“Am I to assume that your home in Mexico features hills grander than these?” Mr. Fox swept his hand at the surrounding countryside, and Ana María noticed he’d yet to put back on his gloves. She stared, transfixed, at the sprinkling of dark hair that peeked out from under his shirtsleeve, and she perversely wondered if it was as soft as it— “Miss Luna?” Ana María flinched, darting her gaze up to meet his. Mr. Fox stared at her for a pregnant moment, and slowly arched his brow. Her face went up in flames, and she was certain it now matched the vivid color of her habit. Pacing a few steps away to
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