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Of course, the producers probably encouraged a few people to complain to drum up some drama.

He chose the episode that had aired earlier that evening and settled in to watch. An older widow had grown tired of cleaning a big house after her children grew up and moved away. Her new place was being built in a community of tiny homes, which he thought was an awesome idea. In fact, more towns and cities should consider similar measures to provide more affordable housing options.

A little over thirty minutes later, a commercial ended, and the jingle and logo for Compact Cribs came back on. When the host appeared with someone new, he nearly spit out a mouthful of whiskey and shot upright in the recliner.

His eyes widened.

The face centered on the screen belonged to the woman he’d pulled over a few hours ago.

Through his shock, he almost missed the host’s introduction.

“Please welcome our guest designer, Amanda Sparks, to the show! You probably know her from her wildly popular YouTube channel, Inspired by Amanda, her hit cable series, Life, Restyled, or her bestselling book series. She’s one of today’s hottest how-to bloggers and influencers. Amanda, it’s so great to have you on the show! Welcome!”

“Thanks for having me, Bryan. It’s a pleasure to be here. I’ve been looking forward to this all week!”

Grady picked his jaw up off the floor and wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. “Well, dip me in sheep shit and roll me through a haystack. What the fuck? She’s famous?”

Her attitude that afternoon started to make more sense. Not that it excused it, but at least he understood where some of it came from. It wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with someone in the public eye.

Several famous and notable people owned multimillion-dollar mansions and vacation ranches in Valley City, on the other side of the county from Antelope Rock. Most of them thought their shit didn’t stink and that Grady could be bought like some elected officials.

Several had learned the hard way how wrong they were.

Staring at the TV, where Ms. Sparks was now on a shopping trip with the tiny home’s owner, he tried not to compare the vibrant decorator with the stern, complaining woman he’d pulled over that afternoon. Her license said she was forty-three, though he’d guessed she was several years younger.

If only he could drag his gaze away from her plump, pink, lip-glossed mouth whenever the camera zoomed in on it, maybe he could actually listen to what she was saying as they wandered through a furniture store.

Scowling, he begrudgingly admitted her choice of a multipurpose chair was a good one.

Dammit.

Chapter Five

On Monday morning, Amanda groaned and knocked her phone to the floor when the alarm beeped incessantly. A morning person she was not. It was one reason she’d made sure her contracts gave her the final say over her daily schedule. Filming her show, guest appearances, and book signings didn’t start until after ten a.m., and even then, only after several cups of coffee.

Over the weekend, she’d helped her aunt with numerous things around the house while they caught each other up on what was going on in their respective lives. Despite speaking on the phone every few weeks, they’d still had plenty to talk about. They had also taken numerous trips down memory lane, leaving them both laughing or groaning. More than once, she’d regretted not visiting Edith sooner.

Sitting up, she rubbed her face and suddenly remembered why she was getting up earlier than normal.

The court hearing. Those bullshit tickets. That incredibly handsome yet aggravatingly arrogant sheriff.

Right. Time to slay some obnoxious dragons.

She’d considered flying her attorney in to fight the charges but, in the end, figured she could handle some Podunk small-town court without forking over a hefty retainer plus travel expenses.

Grumbling under her breath, she climbed out of bed, retrieved her phone from the floor, and stumbled across the hall to the bathroom, where she’d left her clean clothes out the night before. It was a small organizational ritual she never deviated from. Otherwise, she’d spend far too long debating what to wear each morning.

After a shower, she took extra care with her beauty regimen, then glowered at her reflection in the mirror.

Jesus, dial it back, Amanda. This is a court appearance, not a date. No matter how cute that sheriff is, you’re going there to show him he’s wrong, not to show off how hot you look.

She knew from experience that men hated being shown up, particularly in front of their colleagues. She’d gone toe-to-toe with plenty of producers and directors over the years, so talking her way out of two traffic tickets should be child’s play. Sheriff Hottie had no idea who he was dealing with.

After dressing, she gave herself a once-over in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Hair styled perfectly. Clothes neat and orderly—attractive but not overtly sexy. Modest jewelry. Practical shoes that still made a statement.

Satisfied, she spritzed on her favorite perfume and went to check on her aunt before heading into town.

She knocked softly on the older woman’s bedroom door. “Aunt Edith? You awake?”