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“Hi, Gray. Cassandra.”
His head snapped up. Joy and the cook were walking by the table.
As she lifted her hand in a tentative greeting, Gray’s eyes went over every inch of her black sweater and her worn blue jeans. Her hair had curled up around her face from exertion and her cheeks were flushed.
Oh, sweet, beautiful girl, he thought, fingers tightening on his plastic fork until it bent in two. He dropped the thing quickly and wiped his mouth.
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