So long as she stood beside him, he was safe. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. “I didn’t blow up the house. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. He was a large oafish man, a man that seemed deceptively harmless, and some thought him slightly retarded.
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