Eager to escape the stuffy car, Erin opened her door and climbed out, fanning her face with one hand.

“You okay?” Wyatt asked.

“Just a little too warm. It’s not really that hot today, but when you’re inside a black car with the windows rolled up, it gets uncomfortable pretty fast.”

“Ah. I’m sorry. I’ll turn on the AC when I drive you home.”

Erin locked her car, located Buck’s drop box, slipped her keys inside, and turned to face Wyatt again, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. “I’m ready.”

“Where’s your purse?” he asked.

Erin clenched her teeth. “Darn it! I forgot it in the car.” Frustration welled within her. She’d started carrying a handbag only months ago, and it hadn’t become an ingrained habit yet. She thought she saw Wyatt struggling to hold back a smile. “It’s not funny.”

“Anything important in it that you can’t do without until morning?”

“My cell phone. I have to have it with me at all times in case there’s an emergency at the sheriff’s department.”

He shifted his weight onto one booted foot and rested his hands on his narrow hips. The stance made him look every inch a cowboy. Until meeting him, Erin hadn’t found western attire attractive on a man, but now she did. That was just one more reason for her to resent Wyatt Fitzgerald. He messed with her head, making her look at things differently and analyze her reactions.

“Well,” he said in that slow, thoughtful way of his. “I can probably jimmy a door lock if you won’t make me your prime suspect the next time a car is broken into on Main.”

Erin rolled her eyes. In Mystic Creek, a car was robbed only about once a year, and the most likely suspect would be a teenage boy. “Of course I won’t.”

He jumped back into the bed of his pickup, which sent a shiver up her spine. He emanated strength and masculinity in everything he did. Plus, he was too handsome for words. Only a blind woman would fail to find him attractive. If she polled all the adult females in Mystic Creek, she’d probably learn that more than half of them felt flutters in their stomachs when they encountered him on the street.

When he jumped back to the ground, he held a flat piece of metal in his hand. There was a similar device in each of the county vehicles that Erin drove. She’d used one more than once to unlock cars for people who’d accidentally locked their keys inside.

Within seconds, Wyatt had her car opened. He grabbed her purse, relocked the door, and strode toward his truck. “Let’s roll out,” he called to her.

Domino greeted Erin with a face wash as she climbed into the cab of the pickup. She sputtered but didn’t scold the dog. As she settled on the seat and struggled to fasten her safety belt, she endured an ear wash as well. Wyatt glanced over to see if she was buckled up and collared the dog.