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In one smooth motion, I pull the diamond ring from my finger and drop it onto the marble between us. “No problem. Definitely don’t want to overstay my welcome. You take this—” “Bailey.” He pushes to stand, and I hate that I notice the way the muscles in his legs flex. The line from his quads that runs down to his knees. Down to his marred feet.
Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)
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