Page 42

“I swear to God, Grady, I didn’t know. I was going to call you. I just got home from the school about five minutes ago. I thought about asking Rissa for your number before I left, but then I wondered what I’d tell her if she asked why I wanted it. I don’t even know if she knows we went out last night, and I couldn’t come up with an excuse that didn’t sound ridiculous, so I chickened out. Then when I got home, I called the sheriff’s department, but apparently they don’t give out the sheriff’s personal cell number just because some maniac woman calls and asks for it, which I suppose is a good thing, but not exactly helpful. Then I figured Aunt Edith had your number since she had your address, but she’s napping, and I wasn’t going to wake her just to ask for it. She should be up soon, so I was waiting, and then you pulled into the driveway.”

She sucked in a quick breath, but before Grady could take advantage of the opening, she kept going. “And the fact that I don’t have your number seems ridiculous considering you’ve arrested me, taken me to dinner, kissed me, and sent me enough ridiculous gifts to fill half my aunt’s living room, but somehow we never exchanged phone numbers.”

His brows rose. Hell, he wasn’t even sure which part of that verbal avalanche he should address first. This wasn’t remotely where he’d expected the conversation to start.

“And that’s not the point.” She waved both hands as if brushing the subject aside. “The point is, I was going to call you because Madeline called me earlier and told me about the production company coming here to film my show, and I had absolutely no idea they were planning this. None. Zero. I knew she was pitching some things, but she always is. That’s what she does. She pitches things, and people say no, and then she pitches something else, and sometimes they say yes. But usually, there are meetings and discussions and people asking me questions before anyone decides to send an entire television production crew to Antelope Rock, Wyoming, population one thousand, give or take, right?”

Grady opened his mouth, but she held up one finger. “I’m not done.”

Apparently not.

“I would’ve told you if I’d known. Obviously. Especially after last night. Not that last night has anything to do with it. I mean, it does because...” For the first time since she’d come barreling out of the house, she faltered, and a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Well, because of last night. But even if last night hadn’t happened, I still would’ve told you because you’re the sheriff, and this is going to involve a bunch of people showing up with cameras and trucks and equipment and God only knows what else.”

“Amanda—”

“And I know this looks bad.”

He had to agree, even though he believed her. “It does.”

“Really bad.”

“Pretty bad.” He nodded, fighting a laugh at her ridiculous rant.

“Like I deliberately kept it from you and sat across from you at dinner last night pretending nothing was happening.”

“That thought crossed my mind.”

Her eyes widened, and she pointed at him. “See? That’s exactly what I was afraid of. But I didn’t. I swear. I was sitting across from you, completely ignorant of the fact that Madeline and the network were plotting an invasion of the Rock behind my back.”

His anger had disappeared within the first minute of her rambling. She wasn’t giving him enough time between sentences to get a word in, but he no longer needed convincing. What he hadn’t expected was how genuinely horrified she seemed by the idea that he might think she’d deceived him. Apparently, what he thought of her mattered more than she wanted him to know.

Unfortunately, she kept going.

“I found out this morning that people are already coming tomorrow, which I also didn’t know. Fen’s coming, too. He’s my assistant. You’ll probably meet him. You might even like him. Most people do. He can be a little dramatic, but considering who he works for, I suppose that’s understandable.” She sucked in another quick breath. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. I’m trying to explain that I didn’t know. I’m making a mess of it because I’ve been thinking about this all day while trying to help a bunch of teenagers with a play. I obviously couldn’t tell them I was distracted because the man who arrested me and then kissed me was probably going to think I’d lied by omission about a television crew coming to town.”

Grady pressed his lips together and ran a hand down his face, wondering when she would run out of air.

“I even thought about leaving the school early to come find you, but that would’ve meant explaining why I needed to leave, and I’m pretty sure ‘I have to go convince the sheriff I’m not a lying asshole’ isn’t an acceptable reason to abandon community service. Especially when said sheriff is partially responsible for me having community service in the first place.”

That did it. The laugh he’d been fighting finally broke free.

Amanda finally stopped talking and stared at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

He shook his head, but that only made it worse. The absurdity of standing in Edith’s driveway while Amanda frantically tried to explain everything she’d thought and done since breakfast finally hit him. “I’m trying not to.”

“You’re doing a terrible job.”

“I know.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m having a crisis here, Sheriff.”

“I—I can see that.” He wiped away a tear and straightened.

“And you’re laughing.”

“Because you haven’t taken a breath since you came through that door, woman.”

“I’ve taken several.”