Why the hell she was dressing up to tour Wyattville was beyond her.Then again, how she’d let Tyson Wyatt—Sheriff of Wyattville—talk her into going out in the first place was also a mystery.Stupid, stupid, stupid. So much for keeping a low profile, Ms. Smarty Pants.She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes to ten. Maybe he wouldn’t show, or would change his mind about today.Disappointment had her stomach sinking and she blinked in dismay at the realization.She wanted to go. Being inside day in and out was driving her crazy. The idea of wandering around Wyattville, enjoying fresh air and the summer sunshine was like being offered a trip to the Bahamas right now.Her gaze slid to the clock again. Thirteen minutes to ten. Walking to the antique mirror on the wall, she checked her appearance.A scowl slid across her face as she pinched her cheeks to bring color into them. Why hadn’t she packed any makeup?Because this is not a vacation where you’re out bar-hopping to meet guys. You’re here to hide.Well, at least she’d had some lip-gloss to apply.
