Chapter 2 Allie
ALLIE
I wake up with my hair stuck to my face and my head pounding like something is trying to escape from it. I lick my dry, cracked lips and throw back the blanket covering me. The black blanket. Not my light pink duvet…
What did you do, Allie? What the fuck did you do?
My eyes slowly adjust as the morning light spills in through the curtains, but everything is blurry in one eye. Shit, I slept with a contact in again. I scrounge around for my glasses, but they’re not on my nightstand. It’s not your nightstand, the voice in my head reminds me.
Fuck.
I hear shuffling as the door creaks open.
Squinting with one eye closed, I see a tall, blurry figure walking toward me.
His dark hair is gelled to the side, suit pressed to perfection, crisp white shirt bright against his tanned skin.
Two blue-grey eyes flick to mine as he sits at the edge of the bed and holds out a bottle of water.
Relief instantly surges through my body.
Nate.
My relief is short-lived when I realize last night is still fuzzy at best. Some of it is starting to come back to me.
I was so good all weekend. I even started researching some new restaurants in the area so I could pitch them on Monday.
Then Sunday evening rolled around and the scaries hit me hard.
Still, I was going to have one glass of wine.
Just to calm my nerves. Then my friend, Lexi, from kickboxing, texted me to see if I wanted to meet up for a drink.
That’s when things started to get murky.
I remember running into Nate at the bar, but not much else after that.
“Thanks,” I croak, taking the bottle from him and downing half of it in one go. “Nate, I have to ask…”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Allie? You’re my sister’s best friend. Unlike Emory, I respect those boundaries.” He’s, of course, referring to the fact that his little sister, Emory, is now engaged to and having a baby with his best friend.
I snort. “Got it. So we didn’t…” I motion back and forth between us.
“No, Allie. Even if you weren’t my sister’s best friend, not to mention practically a sister to me, I prefer women to be conscious when I fuck them. You were wasted, so I brought you here to sleep it off. I didn’t want Emory worrying if she saw you come home like that. ”
“Plus, I’m not tied up,” I point out. “So, I guess your story checks out.”
Nate rolls his eyes in annoyance but also doesn’t deny anything. I don’t generally make a habit of knowing gritty details about other people’s sex lives, but I accidentally walked in on Nate once, and let’s just say it was Fifty Shades of Caldwell in there.
Ignoring my last comment, he sighs as he stands up from the bed. “You know she waits up and looks out the window to make sure you’re okay when you come home, right?”
“I know.”
“It’s not just about Emory. I care about you, Allie. This behavior…”
“Nope. Don’t even finish that sentence. I’m not Emory, and I’m certainly not one of your little subs or whatever you call them. You do not get to comment on my ‘behavior.’”
“I don’t have—” he starts but thinks better of it.
“I don’t speak to Emory like that anymore.
I know I haven’t been the best brother in the past, but I will always protect her.
” He’s silent for a moment. “I’ll protect you, too.
Although these days it feels like you need the most protection from yourself. ”
Ouch. “I’m an adult, Nate.”
“I get it, but you’re self-sabotaging. You know that, right? Getting drunk the night before you start a new job…”
New job. Fuck.
“What time is it?” I yell as I fly out of bed.
“It’s only eight. I would have woken you up if you slept any later,” he calls.
Shit, shit, shit.
I throw off my clothes—the same ones I was wearing last night—and hop into the ensuite shower in the guest bedroom.
I don’t have time to wash and dry my hair, but I can at least rid my pores of tequila.
I grab the lavender body wash from the built-in shelf as the warm water glides down my body.
Okay, so maybe this isn’t the first time I’ve ended up in Nate’s guest room.
He might have started keeping my preferred toiletries in the guest shower after the third or fourth time it happened.
That’s the thing about Nate. He may have this stern, no-nonsense persona, but he cares deeply about the people in his life.
I haven’t woken up here in weeks, though. Which means I haven’t gotten drunk enough to call him to pick me up from whatever ridiculous situation I got myself into. It’s why I didn’t immediately recognize where I was this morning. I guess all good streaks must come to an end.
It has been zero days since Allie Montgomery got drunk and had to be put to bed by her best friend’s brother.
After the fastest shower of my life, I wrap myself in the fluffy gray towel Nate left on the hook for me.
As I dry off, I realize that I only have the clothes I wore last night, and I don’t have enough time to go home to change. Somehow, I don’t think Theo would appreciate me showing up in a strappy black mini dress on my first day of work.
Thankfully, when I walk out of the bathroom, I see a neat, folded stack of clothes sitting on the bed.
The bed that is already made. I examine the clothes, noting the mid-calf length gray pencil skirt and cream blouse.
I run my hands over the fabric. It feels like cashmere, but thinner.
It’s not like anything I would usually wear.
I have two looks: tight black dresses for nights out and oversized band tees with leggings or cut-off denim shorts—depending on the season—for every day.
These clothes do scream professionalism, though, and I want to make a good first impression.
There’s even a new pair of nude pantyhose with the tag still attached.
Everything but…I turn my head when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call.
Nate walks in holding something balled up in his right hand.
“Hope the clothes are to your liking,” he says. “Here.” He holds out his hand to reveal a black thong, and thank all that is holy, it also has a tag attached. He clears his throat and goes to turn around.
“Are you seriously embarrassed to hand me a pair of panties?” I accuse. “After the things I saw in that room—”
“Jesus, Allie, I thought we discussed never speaking about that again. This is the third time you’ve brought it up. As I’ve said a million times, you’re practically my sister, so yeah, it’s weird having to give you underwear. Not to mention, you’re half-naked, so I’m just gonna go.”
“Right.” I nod as I put the panties on the pile of clothes and shift in my seat on the bed. “Do I even want to know why you have all this stuff?”
Nate shoots me a look that lets me know I’m playing with fire.
“In case of emergency,” he deadpans as he turns on his heel and shuts the door behind him.
I get dressed in record time and go to call for Nate when I realize I have no makeup, but then I notice some unopened packages on the top of the dresser.
Mascara, lip gloss, blush…did he seriously leave me BB cream?
What kind of emergencies does this man have?
I apply it all quickly and rummage through my purse for the extra pair of glasses I always keep on me.
Thankfully, I was able to get the one contact out in the shower without any issues.
I put my glasses on and rush down the stairs, but just as I’m about to turn the front door handle, strong hands reach out and spin me around.
“Not so fast,” Nate chides. “You need to eat.” He hands me a banana and another bottle of water. I take them both as I grab my winter coat that’s draped over an entryway table. “Thanks, bro,” I tease, stepping into my heels and shrugging on my coat. “Coffee?”
“Bad girls don’t get coffee,” he says in a clipped tone.
I roll my eyes. “And you wonder why I keep bringing up—”
“We’re not done talking, either,” he interrupts.
I turn around and throw up my middle finger, walking backward.
That’s when I realize—where am I going? My car is…
not here. It’s at my house where I left it when I went out last night.
I may have a gold star in self-sabotage, but I cross the line at drunk driving.
“Nate,” I whine.
He smirks from his place at the doorway, then takes his keys off a nearby hook and bends down to get his briefcase.
By the time we get to The Emberfield Lantern offices, Nate has not only lectured me about responsibility and making better life choices but has also somehow convinced me to start exercising with him in the mornings as an alternative to drinking.
Because waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to run is most definitely going to offer the same release as drowning my sorrows in a bottle of tequila.
My general rule of thumb is to not run unless I’m being chased, but Nate is relentless.
At least I’m showing up for my first day of work in a Range Rover instead of my beat-up old Civic.
“Allie,” Nate says as I grasp the door handle to let myself out. “Good luck. You’re going to be great.”
“Thanks.” I look back at him before climbing out. “For everything.”