crosses her bare arms over her chest and, like instinct, I peel off my flannel and hold it out to her. “I don’t want your shirt.” “It’s freezing out. Take it or we’re going right back inside so I can punch Ken Doll straight in the face for calling you Hal.” She rolls her eyes. “Why are all you men so goddamn dramatic?” Taking my shirt, she slips her arms through it before cuffing the sleeves enough so that her hands peek through. “There. Happy?”
