“Luke threw a blanket he’d taken from his truck over a grassy section, lowering himself while she stayed standing. Well, not exactly standing. More like revolving—her arms extended as she did a three-sixty turn. “Are you communing with the universe?” he asked. She smiled, but her eyes stayed closed. “My grandmother believed the wind blows beauty on a person.” “Then you must have been born in a hurricane.” Laughing lightly, she joined him on the blanket. “You’re sweet.” “I’m h...onest. You’re freaking gorgeous.” “You’re not bad yourself, McBain.” He unpacked their Super Min-bought lunch. “So tell me more about your Grandma Good Egg,” he said. “Did she do spells?” She smiled. “Good Bear. And no, she didn’t do spells.” He munched on a chip, then opened his water.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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