Page 52 of Touch of Class

Tegan laughed. “I usually bring napkins or paper plates to the picnics, but Gillian wouldn’t be caught dead with a paper napkin on her table, so once we move inside for the colder months, I bank shot on Brooke’s baking talents and pretend like the garlic bread came from both of us.”

“It did.” Brooke smiled at her. “You helped by keeping me entertained while it baked.”

“How’d you do that, Teegs?” Robin asked with a waggle of her eyebrows. “How long does bread take to bake? Twenty-five minutes or so? Seems like about long enough for—”

Brooke put her hand over Robin’s mouth, then pulled it back quickly. “Ew, she licked me.”

Robin shrugged. “What’d you expect? You put something that close to my tongue, I’m gonna lick it.”

“Can verify,” Sawyer said with a grin. “Big fan of that trait.”

“Okay, okay,” Gillian cut back in. “So much for hoping you’d all be on your best behavior when we have company.”

“Who’s company?” Daphne made a point of looking around. “Is it me? Am I company? If so, I expect you all to be on your worst behavior.”

“Don’t even joke about such things around Robin and Sawyer,” Gillian said. “They’re prone to anarchy unless you give them a job to focus on.”

“What, like a heist?” Daphne asked. “Or a hustle?”

“Oh God, you’re on their team, aren’t you?” Gillian shook her head. “I meant like a drink. Would you like someone to get you a drink?”

“Makes more sense,” Daphne said. “Do you have like a little menu of seasonal cocktails printed on cardstock somewhere?”

“Of course.” Gillian reached behind her to pick one up off the bar separating her kitchen from her dining area.

“Seriously? I was being sarcastic.” She held up the menu for the others, like somehow, they might not know about this. “Who does this?”

“G-Dawg,” Robin said. “The hostess with the mostest. For real, check out those themed drinks. Seasonal AF.”

Daphne scanned the list. There was a “falltini” with pear vodka, Grand Marnier and lemon, a “Bill-liever” with blue curacao and loganberry syrup, and a “caramel apple” with hot or cold apple cider and caramel Baileys, or the mulled mocktail, which involved mulled apple with pear cider and a shot of cranberry hibiscus tea.

“Tea and cider together?” Daphne arched an eyebrow.

“Are you doubting me before you even try it?” The familiar hint of challenge rose in Gillian’s voice.

“Not on your home court.” Daphne alluded to their previous conversation. “I’ll try it before doubting.”

Sawyer sprang forward like a puppy who’d been well trained. They grabbed a mug from the cupboard, then took the lid off a Crock-Pot on the counter. She caught her first whiff of what could only be described as autumn in liquid form, steaming up to meet her.

Sawyer ladled some into the cup and passed it over.

“You’ll never doubt me again,” Gillian declared, and while “never again” seemed like a tall order, by the time the warm, smooth concoction hit her lips, Daphne knew she’d certainly think twice before questioning this woman’s flavor palate anytime soon.

A little moan escaped her throat, and the smugness on Gillian’s face was enough to send the warmth much lower in her core.

“Tell me I’m right,” Gillian said, a low hum of command in her voice.

Daphne pressed her lips together but couldn’t suppress the smile. “It’s very good.”

“Not what I asked, but a compliment is progress.”

“And you reward progress,” Daphne finished. “Got it.”

“Good. Now all of you, get out of my kitchen. The lasagna still has forty minutes, and I can’t watch the game if I also have to keep an eye on you.”

Everyone heeded the order without complaint. Sawyer fell into an overstuffed chair, and Robin draped herself sideways across them, her feet dangling over one edge and her head on her person’s shoulder. Brooke and Tegan took the couch, but not all of it as Brooke curled up in one corner and wedged her sock-covered feet under her girlfriend.

Daphne waited for Gillian to choose her spot, but she shook her head. “I can’t stay sitting down while the Bills are playing. I have to be able to pace.”