The pounding grew harder and louder as I rounded the corner, finally stopping in the foyer. Without a second thought, I flipped the three locks, dropped the chain, twisted the knob, and yanked the door open. There was one big, huge, no—monumental problem. It wasn’t Dave standing on my porch at four in the morning. Hell, it wasn’t even my stalker. My chest heaved as I took him in with wide eyes, from his boots, to his Wranglers that fit him in a way that drove me mad, to his damp white T-shirt, to his cream cowboy hat. My eyes dropped down from the top of the cowboy hat I was very familiar with
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