The sun wasn’t even up when you opened the door, only to find Luna already squatting on your welcome mat like she owned the place. You groaned, scooped up the tiny “gift,” and lobbed it over the fence in one swift motion. A soft thud followed by Sean’s amused voice drifted back: “Nice aim.” You froze, cheeks burning. He was leaning on his porch rail, sipping coffee, smirking. Luna yipped, as if she’d just scored a point.
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