“You’re in Alaska. People shoot and stuff things around here, and not only the men. It’s the way things are. Get used to it.” I groan. “Get used to it” seems to be Jonah’s new favorite slogan. “As long as you never bring home a carcass and ask me to clean and cook it.” I know Jonah hunts. I’ve seen the collection of rifles and shotguns in his safe. I’m just not sure how I feel about it yet. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I hear the smile in his voice. “The restaurant’s cozy, though, huh?” “Yeah,” I admit. It’s plainly decorated in dark wood paneling and warmed by a rustic stone fireplace that blazes
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