Victoria Pade - Hometown Sweetheart

Wyatt smiled slowly, as if he was pleased regardless of what was behind her decision. “Tomorrow?”

“Theresa is on my calendar for every day. But I have a full schedule and you’re last on it, so we’ll barely make it to the courthouse before it closes. That won’t leave us much time to look through land records.”

“Later in the day is actually better for me. I have to make some business calls and I’d rather get them in before we go.”

Neily nodded, knowing even as she did that the fact that she was already looking forward to the next day was a bad sign.

But she didn’t back out.

“Thanks for showing us around tonight,” he said then.

“Thanks for the hot chocolate,” she countered.

Wyatt leaned forward and although there was absolutely no reason to believe it was even likely, Neily thought he was going to kiss her good-night.

Shocked, she bolted up straighter and veered away from him just as he pulled his bags of groceries from behind her seat, obviously having been intent on only that from the beginning.

Of course he hadn’t been going to kiss her! Why would she ever have even thought that?

Wyatt settled his sacks on his lap and looked at her again, showing no sign that he’d noticed her overreaction.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“You’re my four-thirty.”

Something about that garnered her a sweet, sexy smile.

“Shall I meet you somewhere?”

Maybe it would be better not to be in a car with him again.

“Records are all kept at the courthouse,” she said, explaining to him where that was.

“I’ll be there at four-thirty,” he assured her when she was finished.

“I’ll see you then.”

Wyatt nodded and she expected him to get out. But instead he sat there a moment longer, looking at her, studying her.

Then he smiled again, a mystery-man smile if ever Neily had seen one, muttered “Good night” and finally slid from her passenger seat, closing the door after himself.

She should have immediately put the car into gear and backed out of the drive. But she didn’t. She was too intent on watching the tall, well-built man carry his packages to the front door.

And despite the fact that she continued to remind herself that this had not been a date, and to chastise herself for even fleetingly thinking he might have kissed her, she couldn’t help fantasizing—just a little—about what it might have been like if it hadn’t been grocery sacks he’d reached for.

If it had been her instead.

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