My realtor would have earned a higher commission if she had mentioned that the woman who lived next door was Presley Marks. “Isn’t this a surprise?”
“Is it?” Presley asked, frowning as I descended my steps and crossed the lawn, meeting her in her driveway. She raised a dark blond eyebrow. “Because it sort of feels like stalking.”
I chuckled. “I swear I had no idea you lived next door.”
But what a bonus. I wouldn’t have to make excuses to stop by the garage to see her. She could tear that insurance waiver to shreds. Presley had to know I didn’t give a damn about that bike they were building for me.
“You bought this house?”
“Yeah.” I reached for the grocery bags she had in her hands. “Here, let me help.”
She twisted away. “I’ve got them.”
“Come on.” I stepped forward and she took a step back. Wait, did she really think I was stalking her? “I’m just trying to help. I mean, I’ll probably start writing down your daily schedule so I can make sure our paths cross at least once a day. But that’s normal, right? For stalkers?”
“Are you being funny?”
My smile flattened. “I guess not.”