Page 64 of Bragg's Christmas

Soleil pats Eden’s arm. “We don’t care if he’s a grump. We care if he’s good to you.”

“He’s good to me.”

Judging by the blush on Eden’s cheeks, the ways he’s good to her are carnal in nature. Lucky girl. I wouldn’t mind finding out how good a Bragg brother can be to me in the bedroom.

Except you turned Damon down, Love.

Of course, I did. He’s my boss.

Never stopped you before.

I scowl at those thoughts. I’m trying to be better. I swear I am. But old habits die hard. Especially habits ingrained in you since ninth grade when you decided you might as well be a tramp since everyone in town thought you were one anyway.

“Whoever thought you and I would date twins?” Harmony asks Eden.

Moon wags her finger at them. “Nuh-uh. Riley says Miller and Elder aren’t really twins.”

“I beg to differ,” Daisy says as she joins us. “I carried those boys in my womb – together – for nine months.”

Moon clears her throat. “Sorry, Daisy.”

“And if it wasn’t enough to carry twins once – bam! – I got pregnant with a second set. What are the chances?” Daisy grumbles as she sits at the easel next to mine.

I wave in greeting. “Hi, Mrs. Bragg.”

“Call me Daisy.” She winks at me. “We ‘need a second chance’ women stick together.”

My brow furrows. Need a second chance women? Why would Daisy Bragg need a second chance? She’s perfect.

This is where knowing the gossip in town would come in handy. But it’s hard to learn the gossip when most of the women in town cross the street as soon as they see you coming. I don’t have cooties.

Aspen claps her hands. “Shall we begin?”

“Begin discussing the book? Sure. I made notes.”

Aspen stops Feather before she can dig out her notebook. “Later. First, we’ll begin with our painting portion of the evening.”

Moon raises her wine glass. “And the sipping.”

“But what are we going to paint if we don’t have a model?” Sage asks.

“This is Christmas paint and sip.”

“A sexy Santa?” Clove suggests.

“Oh yeah. With his coat open, bearing his six-pack abs.” Cayenne fans her face.

“I said no model.”

“Who thinks Aspen’s become a fuddy-duddy since she got married and had a son?” Moon asks as she sticks her hand in the air.

“Call me what you want, but we aren’t painting sexy Santa. We’re painting a winter scene.” She points to the large canvas propped on the counter in front of the cash register.

While everyone else complains about the lack of a male model, I get to work. I always did enjoy painting in art class at school.

When I finish, I glance up and realize everyone’s getting ready to leave.

“What time is it?”

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