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A Different Day

MONDAY

The couch truly was terrible. Getting off it was more like flopping over on my stomach and crawling toward the bathroom until the feeling returned in my legs.

I didn’t know if Teresa and Rita were staring at him in their usual longing way. I couldn’t tell because I seemed to be too busy doing it myself.

Why do I keep staring?

Because he was wearing a pinstripe gray suit today. With a cream-colored button up underneath. Looking comfortable as the accountant with the wide-brimmed glasses he kept pushing up that straight nose.

Nothing like the muscled bouncer in tactical pants I’d watched dressing a few days ago.

I blew a long breath. I’ve got to get away from him.

Staying in his apartment was going nowhere good.

This morning after I’d evolved my plan, I’d followed the scent of coffee to a pot he had on the kitchen counter. But when I’d turned to try to find my thermos in the box I’d packed, I found it sitting on the counter.

I twisted the lid and peeled it open. Seeing the milky
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