I groan dramatically. “Next thing you know, you’ll be asking me to hang stockings and sing carols.” “Don’t tempt me.” He grins. “I’ve got a great singing voice. I could serenade you with ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ right here on the street.” “Please don’t,” I laugh, bumping his shoulder with mine. “I’d hate for you to become the next victim of one of my true crimes.”
