HE IS OBSSESED
He had bright, captivating blue eyes and a shock of sandy-blond hair that was a mess, probably from his own run.
"No worries," he said, steadying me with a light hand on my arm. His grip was firm but gentle. "Completely my fault. I was staring at my watch."
"Me too," I lied, brushing off my shirt. "Hi. I'm Reinna."
"Elvis," he replied, his smile widening. He had a faint, charming drawl—definitely not a local. "And I've never seen you around here before. You new to the neighborhood?"
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