Page 52 of Bragg's Christmas

I straighten my spine. Time to deal with the consequences of my actions.

I enter the kitchen where Damon is working at the stove.

“Oh shoot.” I hurry to his side. “I’m late. I got this.”

He nudges me away. “I’m perfectly capable of cooking a few eggs and bacon for breakfast.”

I wring my hands. “But I should be making breakfast.”

“Why don’t you help Skye set the table?” He nods toward his daughter who’s carrying three plates with glasses stacked on top. The glasses wobble and I rush to help her before they fall.

I keep an eye on Damon while Skye and I set the table. He doesn’t appear to be ready to sack me. Although, maybe this breakfast is a last hurrah! I don’t know. I never stick around for breakfast. I don’t do awkward.

Correction. I didn’t do awkward. But now awkward is my new middle name. Love Awkward Hill. Has a good ring to it.

“Stop staring at me as if you’re scared I’m going to attack you,” Damon mutters when he sets a plate in front of me.

“I don’t think you’re going to attack me.”

He cocks an eyebrow.

“I don’t.” I fidget with my fork. “I wouldn’t blame you for firing me, though, after last night.”

He checks Skye isn’t listening before stepping closer. “Last night was more my fault than yours.”

“But I teased you.”

He smirks. “I did some teasing of my own.”

I feel my face heat at the memory of his tongue gliding against mine. His hot breath against my ear.

He chuckles as he steps back. “All is well, Love Hill. All is well.”

“I’m done!” Skye shouts.

Her cheeks are stuffed full. She reminds me of a squirrel preparing for a long winter slumber. I tap one cheek. “You need to chew your food and swallow it.”

“But Daddy said we can pick out a Christmas tree as soon as I’m done.”

I cringe as she speaks with her mouth full.

“No talking with your mouth full.”

“Why not?”

Damon clears his throat. “I said we’d go pick out a Christmas tree wheneveryone’s finished with their breakfast.”

Skye crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. He tweaks her nose. “Be good, squirt. Or we won’t go at all.”

She opens her mouth but before she has a chance to shout or scream or cry or throw a hissy fit, I elbow her. “He’s lying. He can’t wait to go pick out a Christmas tree.”

She sticks out her bottom lip and pouts. “Daddy.” At least she’s swallowed her food in the meantime.

Damon ruffles her hair and she dissolves into giggles. My heart catches. I want to experience this every morning. After a sweaty night spent in Damon’s bed.

I push those thoughts away. It’ll never happen. Damon isn’t mine. He’s meant for someone much better than me. Someone who doesn’t have a checkered past. Someone he wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen in town with. Someone his family doesn’t gossip about during family dinners.

“Christmas tree!” Skye shouts and reminds me now is not the time to sit around and regret every single decision I’ve ever made in my life.

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