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“I have to follow the eighty-twenty rule.”
“I know; I know. That’s what Myer says too. I’m more of a sixty-forty girl myself,” she says as she stuffs the remainder of a pie in her mouth.
My eyes snap back to his, and he gives me a quick shrug.
“Well, look at that. We can agree on something,” I muse.
“Yep, better grab a coat. It looks like hell might be freezing over tonight,” he says with a grin.