Then I fold my arms across my chest because I mean business. “Thanks. I just want whatever is best for my mom. If that’s you, then good.” Mitch rocks on the back of his heels and observes me with a slow nod. Suddenly I decide that I’m being too nice. I’ve hard-wired myself to never be nice to a guy again, so I elect to throw him off a bit. “And if not,” I continue conspiratorially, thinking back to his garage, “I’ve already seen where you keep the murder tools.” Mitch’s eyes widen and then he throws his head back in a dazzling laugh, one hand clutching his wide muscled stomach. I literally
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