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“What about him?”

“Nothing.” She immediately wished she could take it back. Of all the things she could’ve blurted out, why did she have to mention him?

The brief silence on the other end told her Madeline wasn’t buying it. “Why did you say it like that?”

Amanda turned away from the window. “Say what like what?”

“The sheriff. Like he means something to you.”

“He doesn’t.” Even to her own ears, the denial came a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh.”

“He arrested me, remember?” That should’ve been enough to explain why Grady was on her mind. Unfortunately, she’d done more than her share of complaining about him to Madeline since arriving in Wyoming.

“Yes, and you’ve spent a suspicious amount of time talking about him ever since.”

Amanda refused to touch that one. “His department is going to have to deal with this. Traffic, crowds, filming permits, and whatever else the crew needs.”

“The production company handles most of that.”

“Most isn’t all.”

And Grady was going to think she’d known about this before their date. Wonderful. Less than twelve hours after he’d kissed her and asked to see her again, he was probably sitting in his office imagining she’d invited half of Los Angeles to invade his small town.

“I have to go.”

“Amanda—”

“I’ll call you later.”

Before Madeline could say anything else, Amanda ended the call and considered going to the sheriff’s department to see Grady since they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. The idea lasted all of a few seconds. What exactly was she supposed to say? Good morning. Thanks again for dinner and that spectacular kiss. By the way, a television crew I didn’t invite is about to descend on your town, and I swear I had nothing to do with it.

She dropped back onto the couch with a groan and picked up the red pen she’d abandoned on top of the manuscript. After staring at it for a moment, she tossed it down again. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was getting any more editing done this morning.

So much for the quiet life.

Chapter Twenty

By the time Grady left work, his irritation over the production crew hadn’t improved. He’d spent the afternoon dealing with his normal workload while part of his brain kept returning to the same question.

Why the hell hadn’t Amanda told him?

Maybe there was a reasonable explanation, but he didn't like feeling as though he'd been played for a fool.

He turned onto Edith’s road. He wasn’t going over there to start a fight, but he damn well intended to get an explanation. After last night, he’d thought they’d finally gotten past the constant irritation and assumptions that had marked nearly every encounter since she’d arrived in town. Finding out she might have been keeping something this big from him made him wonder if he’d been wrong.

Edith’s house came into view, and he slowed, then turned into the driveway. The older woman's truck was there, saving him the trouble of tracking Amanda down. Good. He’d rather have this conversation face to face anyway.

He parked behind the pickup and shut off the engine. He’d barely reached for the door handle when the front door flew open.

Amanda hurried outside and rushed down the porch steps. She wore jeans, black sneakers, and a black V-neck T-shirt with what looked like paint splattered across it in a few spots. Her hair was a little mussed, and her expression made it clear she was upset about something. Still, Grady couldn’t help noticing how pretty she looked. Apparently, even being pissed at her wasn’t enough to keep him from being attracted to her.

Judging by how fast she came toward him, she knew exactly why he was there. He climbed out of the SUV, prepared to demand an explanation, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“I didn’t know.”

He stared at her. “Amanda⁠—”