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“They don’t orchestrate elaborate meet-cutes involving property damage.”
“No harm done,” he says, his voice a low rumble that I feel in my chest. “Though I think your reindeer might need resuscitation.”
“To new beginnings,” he says, raising his glass. “And sweaters that die heroically in the line of duty.”
“I think I’m being courted by a potential serial killer,” I say when Chloe answers. “Ooh, fun! Wait, what?”

