Wear pants.
Wear pants?
Misty stared down at the text from Denver. What the hell was that about? But she did as he’d asked, unearthing some well-loved jeans that seldom saw much use in the summer. And since she’d gone that far, she paired them with some hand-tooled leather cowboy boots that had seen many, many years’ love. The sleeveless, cream peasant blouse made her feel more appropriately summery. Why was she even worrying about what she wore? It’s not like this was a date. They were looking at a barn for heaven’s sake. It was a…business arrangement, really.
Except he hadn’t looked at her like he was thinking about business. She didn’t actually know what he’d been thinking, but those gunmetal gray eyes had seemed to look into her—beyond the polite and the surface she’d limited hersel
