“Yes.” Trina’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Are you expecting him?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “I made a visit out to his place a few days ago.”
“No!” She stepped inside my office and shut the door. “Do tell.”
I rolled my eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Then why didn’t you mention it to me?”
“Because there’s nothing to tell. Stark has targeted their property. It was on the list you gave me.”
“Oh. Right.”
There was a knock on the door. Trina turned and opened it. “Mr. Jones.”
She opened the door and Wyatt walked in looking like he was a cowboy fantasy come to life. Those worn jeans, dark t-shirt pulled taut over his chest. Every neuron in my body fired with a universal “yum”.
He looked at Trina and I could tell he was trying to place her.
“Katrina Lados,” she said. “We went to high school together. With deputy mayor Simms too.”
“Oh right.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I do remember you. You used to like to bug Ryder.”
She smirked. “He’s a slacker. Always was one. Always will be one.”
“Someone has to do it,” Wyatt said affably.
Trina laughed. “You sound just like him. The mayor isn’t back yet, but if you’d like to wait out here, I’ll get you a cold drink.”
I had this crazy notion that maybe Trina was flirting with my man. Well, no, not my man, but…Ugh!
Wyatt followed her out to the waiting area. I should have gone back to work. After all, except for a lingering glance in my direction, he didn’t ask to see me.
Crap. I tossed my pen down, rose from my chair and headed to the main lobby area of the mayor’s office.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Jones?”
He was sitting in one of the hard chairs flipping through a hunting magazine. His brows lifted like he thought it was weird for me to call him Mr. Jones. It was weird. But we were grown-ups now. Not two teenagers lost in lust.
“Can you get me in to see the mayor?” He set the magazine down.
“Probably. What’s your business with him?” I sat in the chair next to him.
“Some fancy-dressed thugs were at the house trying to coerce my mother into leaving the property. They say my father is selling, but according to her, since he left the property and I’m there, he can’t sell it.”
“You know I’ve heard a rumor about that,” Trina said from her desk.
Wyatt and I looked at her.
“Something about how the Jones property is passed on. You know it’s one of the oldest farms in the area.”
“Oldest continuously owned by a Jones,” Wyatt corrected.
“Right.” Trina pointed at him with her pen. I could see the wheels in her head turning as s
he started typing on her computer.
“What do you think the mayor can help you with?” I asked Wyatt, trying not to look into his gorgeous green eyes.