Page 7 of Bragg's Christmas

She smirks. “You know it.”

The smirk has me questioning my decision. I don’t want a nanny who’s going to hit on me all the time.

“Ken!” Skye shouts. “Are you coming to play? You promised!”

“Coming!” Love Hill answers before addressing me, “We can figure out compensation later. I have dolls to play with.”

“Okay, but this is a trial period.”

“Of freaking course, it is,” she mutters.

She starts toward Skye but I stop her. “Are you okay helping out here at the hotel until we move to Winter Falls?”

“I don’t have a car,” she reminds me.

I open my mouth to offer her my car to commute but snap it shut again. It’s one thing to allow her to use it when she needs to for Skye. It’s another thing to practically give it to her. I don’t know her well enough to trust her with my car for daily use.

“What if you stay here with us in the suite? There are two bedrooms and I’ll share with Skye.” I’m quick to reassure her. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. Especially after the way she threw herself at me at the wedding.

“I’ll need to go home and pack a bag.”

“We’ll make a field trip out of it. Skye hasn’t seen Winter Falls yet.”

“Ken!” Skye shouts before stomping toward the door and peeking into the hallway. “Are you done, Daddy?”

My phone rings and I check the display. “I need to answer this.”

“Go ahead.” Love Hill grasps Skye’s hand and leads her back into the suite.

I hope I’m not making my biggest mistake as a parent yet. Is hiring a nanny who threw herself at you worse than telling your daughter to calm the hell down when she’s in the midst of a temper tantrum?

And what about hiring a nanny you want to fuck? No. I don’t want to fuck her. Iwantedto fuck her. Past tense. She’s now the woman I hired to care for my daughter, which means she’s off limits.

I stare at Love Hill’s ass and how snug her jeans fit as she returns to the hotel room. Fine. Maybe I still want to fuck her but I won’t.

I force my gaze away.

Chapter 4

Does anyone have a pumpkin pie recipe? ~ Message from Damon to the Bragg brothers

Love Hill

“What’s Thanksgiving?” Skye asks as I comb her hair a few days later.

We’ve settled into a routine at the hotel. A routine which involves Damon working in his room all day long and then, after dinner, he tells me to get some rest, which is code forGo to your room.

If I didn’t desperately need the money to repair the roof of my house – the home my father left me when he died – I’d be out of here. Love Hill is not someone you send to her room. At least, not alone.

“You know Thanksgiving,” I tell her. “It’s the holiday when you eat a big meal with all of your family.”

“You mean Daddy and you?”

My heart warms at the idea of this adorable child thinking I’m part of her family. I’m not. And I’ll never have any children of my own. I’d love to have a child. Children are the best, but I don’t have any choice in the matter.

“Yes, of course with your daddy, but…” I pause. I hate to bring up her mother, but I have to ask. “What about with your mommy and her family. Did you have big meals with her on holidays such as Thanksgiving?”

Her nose scrunches. “I don’t remember Thanksgiving. What is it?”

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