Donned up to the nines with a face full of make-up, and crimson painted lips, she looked like she belonged on the cover of a fucking magazine, not a doorstep in Ballylaggin. The miniature-sized Santa hat perched on top of her head was the icing on the cake. I shook my head, at a complete loss. “What. The. Fuck.” Beaming back at me, she waggled her brows and purred, “Ho, ho, ho, Joe.” “Christmas was two months ago, Molloy.” “I know. But I found it on a sale-rail in the city today and couldn’t wait to try it on!” she squealed, clearly delighted with herself, as she did a little dance in her
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