Gloria Munson had knocked. She had. Twice. No one had come, and she’d heard the singing wafting out of the open window, much the same way the scent of marinara and garlic bread had.
A tall, broad, dark-haired man came toward her, his hand extended. “I’m so sorry. I’m Hunter Hammond, and I forgot to cancel with you.”
Gloria kept her eyes on him, because it…
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