“I assume you’ll want your laptop,” he said. My hands were still in my hair, and I was very tempted to yank it out. “Beau, I swear to the heaven’s above—” “None of that shit is going to work on me,” he returned from the other side of the door, his voice closer. I heard a small thump and decided to get back to cursing his name and family. Maybe then he would leave me the hell alone—like he should have in the first place. I was in the middle of my second curse when the door was pulled open, and all the air left my lungs. Beau had my boots in one hand, my—packed—weekender over that shoulder, and
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