Page 52 of Santa's Girl
I finally closed the laptop and looked around the circle of idiots I called brothers. “Have youseenBecca? She’s a city girl. Class. Sophistication. Lip gloss that probably costs more than your bike, Diesel.”
“Iknewit,” Jinx said, snapping his fingers like he’d just solved a crime. “Wine by Design.”
“Wine by what?”
“Wine by Design,” he repeated. “It’s down in Pigeon Forge. You sip some fancy-ass wine, you paint some flowers or whatever, and pretend you’re cultured. Womenlovethat shit.”
“Paint?” I said, deadpan.
“Brushes, little canvas, glass of merlot. Boom. Chick crack.”
Axel nodded solemnly. “Jinx took his cousin there. Said it bought him two weeks of no attitude.”
I groaned and reopened the laptop.
Wine by Design, Pigeon Forge
Click.
There it was. Bougie fonts. Photos of smiling couples holding up terrible paintings of sunsets and wine glasses.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Pico clapped me on the shoulder. “Into something real, bro.”
Grease added, “Don’t screw it up.”
Jinx grinned. “Don’t wear flannel. And for the love of all things holy,don’t mansplain brush strokes.”
I closed the laptop again. This time with purpose.
“Tonight. Six p.m.” I muttered to myself.
And then, louder: “Now all I gotta do is not make an ass of myself with acrylics and cabernet.”
I stared at the confirmation screen like it might back out if I didn’t blink.
Wine by Design. Today, 6:30 PM. Two guests. Confirmed.
I pulled out my wallet, punched in the card info, and hit “Book.”
Done.
And that’s when it hit me.
I hadnothingto wear. Like,nothing. My entire wardrobe was jeans, flannel, and three MC hoodies that smelled like campfire and sawdust.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Jinx was already two steps ahead of me. “Yeah, no way you’re showing up to a painting date in your serial-killer boots and woodcutter chic.”
“I don’t?—”
He snatched my keys off the table. “Already got my truck running. Let’s go.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What for?”
“We’re gonnaPretty Womanthe shit out of our prez.”
