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She rode her bike back to her house, a comfortable two-bedroom one-story that she’d made her own. Her place was tucked away on Baker Street, lazy enough that there was a decent amount of space between her and her neighbors but close enough to dodge recluse status. Six houses in a circle, all with beautiful live oak trees lining the walks. She waved each afternoon to Mr. Anderson across the street. Lena and Rick Jacoby from three doors down brought her cookies at Christmas and pie for Thanksgiving. She’d been generous with her doughnuts right back. A dozen for this birthday or for that holiday.The street was a good one to live on as far as streets went. People were friendly but not intrusive.

As for Aster, she didn’t have people over much. But she still kept the place neat and tidy. The fifteen hundred and eighty square foot house was mostly white, and that worked for her aesthetic. She preferred things clean and simple and straightforward. She wasn’t the best at traditional decorating, always leaning toward the more in-your-face motifs like she’d given Hole in One, black and white and full of loud art. But she knew how to use available resources and found a few photos online of professionally decorated homes she liked and did her best to duplicate them, down to the small details, because those seemed to matter most. Some blue pillows on her cream-colored sofa. A framed and matted photo of the waves crashing onto the shore, an image she’d grown to love. Curtains that swooped and grabbed accents of the blue in their diamond pattern. The swooping was very popular these days, so she made sure hers did.

Then there was her overused stainless-steel fridge. It was odd to garner so much happiness from an appliance, but she did. Aster regarded her fridge as an extension of her family. It had been one of her few splurges when business at Hole in One really started to take off. She had room for fresh fruits and vegetables, of which you could purchase a lot in this town, not to mention all sorts of ingredients that kept her experimenting with creative recipes she found online. Cooking was a favorite pastime of hers. Almost as much fun as creating the perfect doughnut. In fact, with the whole night stretched out in front of her, Aster thought she might put on a little classical piano music and make a nice chicken cordon bleu. Practice her technique. As she pulled the ingredients from her fridge, there was a knock on her door. She frowned.Interesting.It wasn’t a holiday.

She glanced down at her clothing, half of which she’d shed when she’d arrived home, leaving her barefoot in faded jeans and a black tank top. Good enough for a neighbor chat. Maybe Mr. Anderson needed someone to pick up his mail.

She opened the door, small smile in place because that was friendly. But it wasn’t Mr. Anderson at all. In a plot twist, she found herself standing in front of Brynn Garrett, who looked just as surprised to see Aster looking back at her.

“Hi. Aster. Was not expecting you. Wow.”

“Yeah, hi.” She glanced behind Brynn for some sort of explanation. Had someone brought her here? Her brother? Mr. Anderson and his mail? Not that either would make much sense.

“Well. Iwasstopping by to say hello and introduce myself. But I think I can throw that out the window now.”

Aster took a beat, still lost. “We’ve already met.”

Brynn laughed. “I know. We have. But I didn’t realize you lived here. Wait. Do you really live here?” Brynn took a step back and looked up at the house. She had one strand of hair behind her ear and looked really pretty.

“I do.”

“That’s crazy.” She hooked her thumb. “I’m renting the place next door.”

“No you’re not.” She’d blurted it, too. It wasn’t the warmly statedWelcome to the neighborhoodthat should have come out of her mouth, but the idea of Brynn turning up as her actual next-door neighbor wasn’t something she could absorb fully.

“I am. Do you want to see the rental agreement?”

“No.” She should have said more. She’d work on it. Talking to Brynn was a new skill she’d yet to master, though she was making progress. But it made sense. That Brad guy who always kept to himself had moved out months ago, and the house had been sitting vacant. She’d somehow missed Brynn’s move in. Though she wouldn’t have come with much for a temporary stay.

Brynn offered her a half smile. It was a thing she did where one side of her mouth pulled up, and a hint of a dimple showed on her right cheek. Just a hint. One couldn’t call it a full dimple. She liked it. A really good look.

“You’re a funny girl, Aster.”

Aster shifted from her left foot to her right. “That’s me. Everyone says so. My comedy is famous across town.” She shook her head adamantly to let Brynn know that wasn’t the case at all. She had a feeling it hadn’t been necessary.

“Well, I guess you’remynew very funny neighbor.”

“You’re not staying at Tyler’s house? I figured this was one of those friend swaps like in the movies. You trade lives for a few months and rediscover yourselves by the end of your respective journeys.”

“You’d think. But Tyler’s place will be undergoing heavy termite treatment while she’s away. The little guys have become a problem, and she’s taking advantage of the empty-house time.”

“Well, that ruins the whole premise of the movie,” Aster said seriously.

“Unfortunate, too.” Brynn straightened. “So, what are the Baker Street rules? I want to be an upstanding citizen. All carrots are up for grabs, obviously.”

Aster rocked back on her heels. “We meet on Tuesdays and argue politics.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. Saturdays are decorate-your-mailbox day, and on the fifth Sunday of the month, we dance naked at midnight.”

Brynn didn’t hesitate. “I can meet those terms.”

“What about your pets? Friendly?” Aster asked.

“I have no pets.”

“Not possible.” That didn’t seem right. “You’re a vet. You have pets. Surely. It’s a rule.”