Though Mitchell had been awestruck by Amy’s appearance, he found his voice quickly enough when Dylan introduced her. “Sherwood?” he said. “Are you related to the guy who’s always nagging me to sell my autograph collection?”
She shot a look at Dylan, who shrugged. He’d done his best; now it was up to her.
“I heard somewhere he’d taken up with quite a dish,” Mitchell went on. “But I had no idea what kind of dish we were talking about.”
Dylan glanced sideways at Amy, curious to see how she would react to being confused with Honey. She looked a little like a firecracker just before the explosion—sparks and all. He stepped nimbly into the breach. “That’s a different dish, Mitchell. This one’s his daughter.”
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