Housekeeper (Lavens Family, part 1)

8. Hangover

*Vanessa*

This morning, I woke up with the worst hangover of my life. My head pounded with every movement, and nausea churned in my stomach. Groaning, I forced myself up and stumbled to the sink, gulping down several handfuls of water before crawling into the shower. The hot water did little to soothe me, but at least I no longer felt like death itself.

As I stepped out, towelling off my damp hair, I froze. There was a sound—movement. Someone was in my house.

Heart pounding, I clutched my towel tightly around myself and padded toward the kitchen. Rounding the corner, I came face-to-face with Dave. He was leaning casually against the counter, his eyes flicking over me in my towel with a slow, amused smirk.

"Would you mind leaving my house?" I said, trying to inject authority into my voice despite feeling entirely too exposed.

He didn't budge. Instead, he held up an empty sugar bowl. "You forgot the sugar cubes, and they're not where Linda used to keep them. Otherwise, I would've been out of here before you finished your shower."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You could have waited. Asking me via phone call or so."

He shrugged, completely unbothered. "I hadn't thought about that."

I scowled, marching past him to open the cupboard where I kept the unopened sugar cubes. Stretching onto my tiptoes, I strained to reach the plastic container at the back of the shelf. Behind me, Dave chuckled.

"You could help, you know. You're taller," I muttered.

"I enjoy watching you struggle," he said with far too much amusement.

I whirled on him, my towel shifting dangerously. "Just take the pack and leave, idiot."

His smirk widened. "That's twice you've called me that."

I blinked. "What?"

"Last night. After you kissed me."

Heat flooded my face. "I did not—"

"Oh, you did." His grin was infuriating. "Slurred speech, lingering hands, tongue involved. Quite bold, really."

I gaped at him. "I don't... I don't remember that."

Dave shook his head. "Such a pity. It was a very good kiss."

My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. With an easygoing shrug, he snatched the sugar cubes from my hand and turned toward the door. "See you tonight, Vanessa."

Then he was gone, leaving me standing in my kitchen, my brain short-circuiting.

As soon as I regained motor function, I grabbed my phone and dialled the only person who could help me process this madness.

Stephanie answered on the second ring. "Vanessa? You never call this early. What happened?"

"I got very drunk last night," I groaned.

She sighed dramatically. "Not exactly breaking news."

"This time, I kissed my boss."

There was silence. Then—"WHAT?"

I winced, pulling the phone away from my ear. "Yeah."

"How? Why? WHEN?"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "Dinner was supposed to be for myself, but he turned it into a celebration. I signed my permanent contract, and there was champagne... and wine... and more wine."

Stephanie let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl. So you do remember?"

I hesitated. "I thought it was a dream. But apparently, no."