Eve pressed her fingers to her eyes. When Baxter and Trueheart walked in, she hoped they’d balance things out. Then Peabody came in. She’d ditched the scarf and the pink coat. Eve almost preferred them to the screaming red sweater with fussy pink flounces at the cuffs, the shiny, electric-blue jacket, and, Jesus, neon-green pants with frigging pink flowers down the sides. “Peabody.” Baxter let out a half laugh. “You look like a garden.” “It’s almost spring! Coffee!” “None for you,” Eve snapped. “Aw!” “Water,” she ordered McNab. “Only water.” “On it.” “Sit.” She pulled the pot from Peabody,
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