I hopped up the stairs onto the front porch and knocked on the door, waiting for a moment before someone answered. When the guy finally did, he looked surprised to see me. He was shirtless and tanned, tall with lean muscle, and his hair was rumpled as if he had just gotten out of bed. He was carrying a dog under one arm. A puppy, really. A cute one.
But I barely had eyes for the dog. Instead, I couldn’t seem to draw my gaze away from the guy’s sculpted abs. God, he was attractive. I suddenly remembered Dad’s reminder to be careful, and I wondered if he knew more than he had let on about the Dawson family.
The guy cleared his throat, and I realized I was blocking his way out. I took a step back and to the side. Something hit into the backs of my knees, and I fell backward, landing hard on the porch. “There’s a chair there,” the man said, raising an eyebrow at me as he walked out to the yard and set the pooch down. The dog immediately ran off, bounding across the fields, and the guy reached out to give me a hand up.
I was still staring at him, I realized. But I couldn’t seem to help it. He looked amused, in any case.
“You must be Brea?” he asked, his voice rich and silky-smooth. Even his voice was sexy? I was such a goner. “I’m Luke Dawson.”
“Yeah,” I said breathlessly. “Brea. That’s me.”
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