A stunt-woman? Cade Garrity’s new short-term tenant risks life and limb for a living? Oh, hell, no. The Black Hills rancher is a single dad with an impressionable young daughter who’s recently expressed an interest in bull riding. Cade married a woman who put her need for excitement ahead of her family and it killed her. He’s not about to go down that road again. But when Jessie Bouchard drops out of the sky into his arms, he realizes he can’t let her go.
Despite what people think, Jessie doesn’t have a death wish. She knows the only way to handle fear is to face it head on. She’s convinced herself that living in the moment is enough–until she meets Cade and his daughter, Shiloh. But even if she did believe she deserved the kind of love Cade has to offer, the stalker who’s trying to kill her might make sure she never gets the chance.
“A little to the left. Puuuush. Harder. Keep it coming. That’s it. Almost. Yes,” Jessie Bouchard cried in triumph. “You’re in.”
She stepped back and looked skyward at the massive man-made climbing tower that she and her team would be scaling in a few hours. “What do you think?” she asked her sister, Remy, who stood a few feet away.
“It’s definitely phallic.”
Jessie ignored the smirk in her twin’s voice. “I meant, does it look plumb? Not the tower itself—the computer on the truck handles that, I mean the lightening rod thingie we added.”
Remy took a step closer. “It looks straight. And dangerous. You aren’t really going to climb this thing then jump off the top holding one of those little, bitty ropes, are you?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Watch out. Here we come.”
“Geronimo.”
Jessie pushed Remy out of the way as Zane and Eerik—the oldest and youngest members, respectively, of Team Shockwave—barreled for the tower and began scrambling like ants, crisscrossing each other’s paths in an attempt to beat the other to the top.
“Hey, guys, cool it. Shane won’t pay us if you break his new toy.”
And the money was important. Jessie needed every penny to fund her three-month training hiatus this summer. By the end of August she planned to be in Japan with her name at the top of the leader board of Kamikaze—the adrenaline-rush game show she’d lost so spectacularly last year. Her reputation was on the line, along with her career and self-esteem.
Remy grabbed her arm, her fingers digging in deeply. “I have a bad feeling about this, Jess. Please don’t climb.”
Jessie hated the shiver that raced down her spine. She shook her arm free. “Nobody is twisting your arm to watch the show. If you hadn’t suddenly popped in to check up on me, you never would have known about this.”
“I was worried. You stopped answering your phone. And emails. The Bullies figured you were still pouting about Mom’s funeral, but I told them something else was going on. Something serious and life altering. I felt it.”
Some people would have taken that kind of woo-woo prophesy from the lips of Remy Bouchard seriously. Not Jessie. She knew all of her twin’s secrets. Well, most of them, anyway. And she knew Remy wasn’t the semipsychic Dream Girl the citizens of Baylorville, Louisiana, thought she was.
“I told you. I lost my cell phone and sublet my apartment for the summer, so I turned off the landline. And my laptop died. I borrowed a friend’s to update my Facebook page, which is how you knew where to find me, right?”
Family was great and all, but the way they looked over her shoulder could be claustrophobic. “The point is I’m not hiding or pouting or taking crazy risks.” She pointed at the tower. “This thing is completely safe. A thousand little kids will be climbing it this summer.”
Remy’s perfectly outlined deep pink lips—her sister knew makeup the way Jessie knew car engines—formed a fretful moue. “What about the lightening rod?”
Jessie gestured to the six-foot pole from which two lines—one red, one black—were partially visible. “That was Zane’s idea. He thought our routine lacked pizzazz. He and I are going to rappel back and forth, like Tarzan and a really hot Jane.” She pounded her chest.
Remy crossed her arms. The disapproving look on her face was so much like their mother’s Jessie felt a shiver pass down her spine. Mom had been gone for nearly ten months, but Jessie thought about her every day. The way she died. The way Jessie let everybody down. Again.
She looked at her watch. “I’m supposed to meet a guy over at the community center in a few minutes. Are you sticking around or what?”
Remy gave her a “well-duh” look. “Of course I’m sticking around. Think I came all this way to ask why you weren’t answering your phone? I figured since you’re staying here for the summer, this would be a great chance for us to spend some time together.”
Some time? How much? Before Jessie could ask her to elaborate on that plan, Eerik shot toward them on a skateboard. At nineteen, the guy was part fearless maniac, part laid-back surfer. “No killing yourself before the show, Eerik. We need you to play a menacing bad guy.”
“No prob, Jess. Just staying loose.”
“I hope he remembers his stocking cap,” Jessie said, watching him show off. “A blond ponytail isn’t very threatening, is it?”
She glanced over her shoulder when Remy didn’t answer right away and found her sister’s gaze following the fit, sexy, young Brad Pitt-looking kid. Not that Jessie blamed her. Eerik was hot, but Jessie didn’t date coworkers. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. Plus, romance was so far off her radar at the moment it was a non-issue. Men were one luxury she couldn’t afford.
“Watch where you’re going, a-hole,” Jessie heard someone shout. She turned in time to see Zane stiff-arm Eerik, sending the younger man stumbling.
Eerik rebounded with the grace and nimbleness of a highly trained athlete, executing a back flip to land on his feet. The average person would have been on their butt on the ground. He spun around, fists raised.
Before Jessie could voice her protest, Marsh, the third member of their team, dashed between the two men. “Take it down a notch, guys. We have a show in forty minutes.”
Zane, who at the moment looked very much like the Special Forces commando he claimed to have been, flipped them both off and stormed away. Marsh looked at her, hands out in a what-the-heck motion.
Jessie had no idea what was going on with Zane. He’d been more short-tempered than usual the past few days. A veteran stuntman and co-captain of Team Shockwave, their eight-member competitive Parkour/Freerunning team, Zane brought strength and cunning to the mix. But his team name was Inzanity, which, lately, seemed a little too apropos.
“Come on,” she said, changing direction. “I need a drink of water before my meeting. There’s a cooler in Yota.”
Her impossible-to-miss, 1971 turquoise Toyota Land Cruiser was parked midway between the post office, where the show would originate, and the tower. In Parkour, athletes incorporated existing landmarks, like light poles, walls, parking meters, even cars in their routines. Yota was used to playing the foil for Jessie and her troupe.
She opened the rear doors and reached for her cooler. She smiled when she saw Remy lovingly pat the car’s dusty fender. They’d bought the car together shortly after graduating from high school. Jessie had replaced the engine twice, but she had no plans to trade it in on a newer model. She loved the boxy old thing like a member of the family.
The vehicle lacked an authentic tailgate and Jessie had removed the rear seats years earlier to allow for more cargo space, but Remy didn’t let that stop her from making herself comfortable. She turned and hopped backward to sit on the threshold, adjusting the fall of her gauzy purple-and-blue cotton skirt. As usual, she looked pretty and feminine.
Jessie stripped off her sweaty black T-shirt and grabbed the green, sleeveless blouse she’d worn the night before. Not too wrinkled, she decided, buttoning it partway. Her bright orange tank with the built-in workout bra didn’t clash too badly, she decided, checking out her reflection in the passenger-side mirror.
Remy tilted her head to scrutinize Jessie’s outfit but didn’t comment. “Who did you say you were meeting?”
“Cade Garrity. His sister, Kat, is a friend of Libby Lindstrom’s. Cooper Lindstrom’s wife.”
Jessie knew her sister wasn’t a big fan of television, but she didn’t live under a rock, either. Sentinel Passtime was a legitimate TV hit and a stunt double’s dream. Jessie loved this annual trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota to film on location. Since they already had the permit to film scenes in this part of town, Shane Reynard, the director, had decided to give a stunt demonstration as a thank-you to the locals for sharing space with Hollywood types.
“I asked Libby if she knew of any rentals in the area. Kat said her brother had a place—a ranch somewhere north of here. It sounds perfect. So I emailed him last week.”
Remy frowned. “If you wanted to do your training someplace other than L.A., you could have come home.”
Jessie heard something not-quite-Remy in her sister’s voice. Grievance? Complaint? Remy was the one person Jessie could always count on to be in her corner. She never complained about Jessie’s choices or lifestyle. Obviously that had changed.
“Okay. Out with it. What’s going on?”
“I lost my job.”
“At Shadybrook? No way. You’re the best thing those old people ever saw.”
“Budget cuts. They lost their funding for my program and didn’t want to raise their rates.”
Jessie gave her a one-arm hug. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I needed a change. Plus, I figured I’d find you to deliver this in person.” Remy settled her oversize carpetbag of a purse on her lap and pulled out an envelope, which she handed to Jessie.
“What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
She let the envelope rest in the palm of her hand a moment. Thin. Cheap, ordinary paper. Nothing special—except for her name written in her mother’s hand. Jessie.
Her throat tightened, making it hard to swallow. “Where’d you find this?”
“In her desk in the kitchen. You know Mama. One desk wasn’t enough; ten were too many.”
The old joke helped ease the tension. Jessie had had a turbulent relationship with her mother for most of her life, and one point of contention was Marlene Bouchard’s penchant for buying estate-sale furniture she didn’t need, couldn’t afford and didn’t have space for in her Louisiana shotgun-style home.
Jessie ripped open the envelope and quickly scanned the one-page missive. Without conscious thought she gently rubbed the tender spot on the side of her forehead. The stitches were gone but the pain lingered. “You got one, too, I assume?”
“We all did.”
Jessie reached for her duffle bag. She found the plastic vile of prescription pain pills the doctor had given her. She didn’t like to take them before a job, but one wouldn’t hurt, she figured. She choked it down with a swig of water.
“So, what changes? She’d already told everybody how she wanted her will handled. Now we have it writing. Big deal. I still don’t want anything—including my half of the house. You know that. You didn’t have to come all this way to hear me say so in person.”
Remy blew out a huff of exasperation. “That’s exactly why I had to come. To talk some sense into you. Just because you don’t want your share of Mama’s estate doesn’t mean you might not have kids some day that would treasure a small piece of their grandmother’s past. I refuse to let you give away your inheritance simply because you feel guilty.”
Jessie heaved the duffle deep into the car and turned her back on her sister. “I don’t want to talk about this. Not now.”
“No problem. Like I said, I think I’ll stick around for a while. We can be roomies. Like when we lived in Nashville.”
“What about the house? Aren’t you afraid the Bullies will make off with all those so-called treasures you think I deserve?” The Bullies was the pet name the twins had for their three older sisters.
Remy gave her head a shake, making her white-blonde hair shimmer in the intense noon sunlight. “They’ve already taken everything they want. I told them when I left I might not come back right away, depending on your plans. Luckily, since Mama’s house is paid for, I can help you out with rent and it won’t feel as if I’m paying double. How big is this new place?”
This sort of spur-of-the-moment planning was more her than Remy. “I don’t know all the details. That’s what I’m here to find out. This Cade guy said he was willing to trade part of the rent for a few hours of child care during the week.”
“Child care? You?”
Jessie spun on one heel. “See? You’re as bad as the Bullies. You all assume certain truths about me that aren’t based on any actual facts.”
Remy put up her hands defensively. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you actually liked kids. You have to admit you’ve never had much to do with our nieces and nephews.”
“That would have meant spending time with their parents. I’ve learned that I can get along with my older sisters just fine if I keep a few states between us. Which is another reason I want no part of Mom’s house.”
“But—”
“Not now, Rem. I gotta go. This ranch sounds perfect. Out of the way. Practically off the grid.” A bonus given the mess she’d left in L.A. “So, stay here. I’ll feel him out about renting to two tenants. If he doesn’t have a problem with the idea, I’ll mention that you’re in town and thinking about staying. Okay?”
“I could kick in more rent.”
Jessie thought about Cade Garrity’s initial reply to her query: brief—almost terse—as if he were doing something he wasn’t totally happy about. “I don’t think this is about money. His main focus seemed to be his daughter. She’s twelve. He said he wanted someone to pick her up at the bus stop and supervise her after-school time until he got home.”
“A teen. Good luck with that,” Remy said, with a slight smirk.
“Hey, for your information, last year I coached two Girlz On Fire gymnastics teams. A couple of the girls came very close to placing at the district level. Not bad for our first try.” First, and probably the last, Jessie thought.
She pushed the memory away. What was happening with Girlz On Fire was out of her hands at the moment. Maybe someday, after the dust had settled, she might be able to resurrect the pieces of the dream, but that was going to take more money than she currently had. Another reason to win Kamikaze’s million-dollar prize.
She looked at her watch. “Damn. I have to run. I only have a few minutes to talk to him before the show starts. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
She jogged across the street, which was completely devoid of traffic thanks to the bright yellow caution tape that Marsh and Eerik had put up early that morning before they started filming their Sentinel Passtime scenes.
Spectators were starting to collect along the sidewalks and storefronts. She probably should have scheduled this for later, but she had to admit she’d wanted to show off a bit for Cade Garrity. If the guy was going to be her landlord, he deserved to know what kind of person she was—and her work pretty much defined her.
When she reached the plaza adjacent to the Community Center, she glanced over her shoulder. Remy was still by Yota, but she wasn’t alone. Eerik–skateboard in hand—had stopped to talk to her.
Jessie wasn’t surprised. Remy was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women Jessie had ever known. The irony was they were identical twins. They just didn’t look—or act—anything alike.
With a shake of her head, she hurried across the open plaza, which had been packed with tourists and paparazzi earlier that morning during filming. At the moment, the area was empty save a tall man in jeans, a white shirt and cowboy boots. No hat. A few feet away, a young teen she assumed was his daughter, lounged against the town’s mascot—a pony-size concrete dinosaur named Seymour. The girl was dressed similarly, except she was wearing a cowboy hat and a bright pink T-shirt sporting a Lady Antebellum logo.
“Hi,” Jessie called out. At the curb, impulsively, she did a round off, ending in a backward flip to land a foot in front of the pair.
“Wow,” the girl exclaimed, pushing off to step closer to her father. Twelve going on twenty, Jessie thought. Been there and then some.
“That was very cool,” the girl said. “Can you teach me how to do that? Dad says you’re a stuntwoman. I plan to ride bulls someday, but maybe I could be a stuntwoman, too.”
Jessie wiped her hands on her pants. “I’m Jessie Bouchard.” She shook Cade Garrity’s hand first. “Sorry about showing off. It’s what I do.”
“Show off?” His tone wasn’t cutting or rude, but Jessie could tell her stunt had left him underwhelmed.
“I meant the flip. I do stunts for a living, but my passion is Parkour. It’s also called Freerunning. Ever hear of it?”
“As opposed to paying to run?”
She couldn’t decide if his question was meant to be serious or snide.
“Oh, Daddy, stop. I promise not to bug her about teaching me how to jump off buildings. Really. I mean it.”
Jessie looked between them trying to follow the debate, which obviously had been going on for a long while.
“Fine. Okay. I believe you.” To Jessie, he said, “Sorry. We were rude. I’m Cade Garrity. This is my daughter, Shiloh. We aren’t in complete agreement about renting to you. I like the fact that you don’t smoke, don’t have pets and only need the house for three months. Which, hopefully, is about how long my dad will be at his spiritual retreat. My reservations have to do with your job.”
“My job?”
“You jump off buildings for a living, correct?”
“When the script calls for it,” she said, slowly. She was beginning not to like this man—even though he was handsome enough to be on some Western-wear billboard. “And when all the proper safety precautions are in place and the stunt’s been cleared by all the right people. I wasn’t planning to jump off any of the buildings on your ranch, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He had the grace to blush a small degree, but his daughter saved him from having to apologize. “See, Daddy. I told you she was normal. She just has an extreme job. Like Mom used to.” She looked at Jessie and explained, “My mother was a barrel racer. Her saddle slipped and she got trampled by her horse when I was a baby.”
The stark announcement left Jessie speechless. She looked at the man across from her in a different light. No wonder he wasn’t crazy about her career. He probably assumed it held the same kind of risk as the one that killed his wife. Before she could formulate any sort of reply, a voice said, “Hi. Sorry to interrupt. I’m Remy Bouchard, Jessie’s sister. Has she asked you, yet?”
* * *
There are two of them? Cade looked from the athlete to the southern belle. Sisters?
“Hey. You two look alike. Are you twins?” Shiloh asked, her tone suddenly very girlish and young.
Cade still couldn’t believe she’d dumped a lapful of personal information on a perfect stranger. They were going to have a long talk about personal boundaries and privacy. Especially since Shiloh was the reason he was here today. His perfect little girl seemingly overnight had turned into a rebellious little hellion with a snippy attitude and secrets that could easily get her in a lot of trouble. Cade had felt panicky and out of his depth. Instinct told him he needed help. Family.
Unfortunately, returning to the Black Hills meant trusting his father. A losing proposition no matter how badly you wanted it to work.
“Ask me what?”
He directed his question not toward the vivacious blonde but to the woman he’d been mailing for the past week: Jessie Bouchard AKA Jess DeLeon. He’d checked out her website. Hip, jazzy and impersonal. Nowhere did it say anything about a twin sister.
He spotted the scalding look she gave her sister. “Remy has unexpectedly come by some free time and she thought it would be a good reason to drop in on me. If you’re not comfortable renting to two people, that’s perfectly understandable.”
The idea of renting his father’s house for the summer had seemed logical when his sister suggested it. He needed another set of eyes on Shiloh for those times when he was in the field. He’d read the horror stories about online predators. That alone made his blood run cold, but discovering his daughter would go behind his back to do exactly the sort of thing her mother had…well, that nearly killed him.
“The house has two bedrooms. The problem is it’s my dad’s place. He’s not here and I don’t have a real clear timeline on when he plans to return.”
“Well, we’re flexible, aren’t we, Jess? Worse-case scenario, his dad comes back early and you have to come home with me to finish your training.”
Cade’s gaze hadn’t left Jessie so he caught the small flicker in her cheek that said going home wasn’t something she was in any hurry to do. He could sympathize. He’d resisted his father’s overtures to return to the ranch and claim his inheritance for years.
Now, here he was. Different reason, but still.
“I need someone to pick up Shiloh from the bus stop five afternoons a week.”
Jessie nodded. “Yep. Got that covered. Saturday mornings and maybe a few evenings if you have meetings. None of that is problem. I’m an early riser. I’ll probably be a few miles into my run by the time you get out of bed.”
Doubtful, but he couldn’t fault her work ethic.
“I am not an early riser, but I am a bit of night owl,” Remy said. “So, if you were called out on a farm emergency, I would happily stay with Shiloh until you got home.”
That sort of thing happened more often than he liked to admit. His father had promised to be around so Shiloh wasn’t left home alone.
A sudden ringing sound made Remy clutch the giant bag at her side. “That’s me. It’s probably Bing,” she said stepping away to take the call. “She’s worried. She saw your rollover. We all did.”
Rollover? He didn’t like the sound of that.
Jessie didn’t comment, but her gaze followed her sister as she returned to the brightly painted box on wheels across the street.
“Is that your car?”
“Yes. That’s Yota.”
“Your car has a name?” Shiloh asked. “Cool. We should name your truck, Dad. How ‘bout…Demon?”
“How ‘bout we don’t?”
Jessie’s unpainted lips moved suspiciously, as if working to suppress a grin.
“So,” he said, a bit more severely than necessary, “you’re planning to stay in the area until mid-August?”
“Yes. I’ve been invited to try out for a game show in Japan. I participated in it last year and didn’t do as well as I would have liked. There were extenuating circumstances but that doesn’t mean a lot in the end. I lost. I don’t intend to lose this year. That’s where the training comes in.”
“What kind of training?”
“A lot of running to build up my endurance. Balance work. Wind sprints. Weights, if I can find them. I figure there must a gym in the area, right? If not, I can make do. I’m adaptable.”
“The nearest one is probably twenty miles away. Do you need any special equipment besides weights?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I always carry a couple of mats with me.” She did a half-squat, drawing his attention to her legs and derriere. Her muscles were well defined by skintight black pants. “Jumps are a big part of Parkour. I try to lower the impact on my knees whenever possible.”
His gaze traveled back up to her face, but not quite as quickly as it probably should have. She was everything an athlete should be: trim, compact, coiled energy in repose. She reminded him of Faith. Unfortunately.
“Hey, listen, if you don’t want to do this, I understand. I would have told you about my sister, but, honestly, I had no idea she was thinking about staying. Our mom passed away last fall, and I think Remy’s been feeling a bit lost lately.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” he said, recalling the argument he’d had with his dad a week earlier.
“I didn’t see this coming when I asked you to move back, son,” his father had said. “People die. You don’t know when and you sure as hell don’t know in advance how that death is going to make you feel.”
Dealing with loss was one thing Cade did understand.
Despite his misgivings about Jessie Bouchard’s career, Cade was tempted to accept her and her sister as tenants, if only to cross one problem off his list. There were still a dozen more he needed to handle.
“Let’s be clear. Shiloh rides the bus, but if she misses it for some reason or needs to come home early, I’d expect you to go after her. Is that a problem?”
“No. Have a cell phone. And, contrary to what some people believe, I can drive a car without rolling it.”
Her quip made him smile. He looked in her eyes and saw a genuine person. His gut said he could trust her not to do something stupid. Of course, his gut had been wrong in the past. Dead wrong.
“Hey, Dad, look at me.”
He spun around, shocked to discover his daughter wasn’t standing a few feet away from him.
“This is so cool,” she hollered, adding a little squeal of delight as she continued her climb up the tower that had been erected in the middle of the street. Yellow caution tape fluttered in the light breeze. Tape she’d obviously ignored.
“Shit,” he swore and took off running.
Even fueled by pure adrenaline, he was quickly passed up by Jessie, who somehow levered herself from the ground to a spot parallel with Shiloh before Cade even reached the bottom of the tower.
“Hey, Shiloh. You need to stop. Right now.”
Shiloh reached for another knob arm’s length above her head. “Why? This is fun.”
Don’t tell her it’s dangerous. That’ll only make her keep going. He’d learned that the hard way six months earlier.
“It’s also extremely uncool to climb without the right gear. The friction tape on these holds is killer on bare feet. You might not notice that going up—adrenaline does that, but believe me, you will when you start down. It’s going to sting like hell.”
Shiloh froze. “Really?”
Jessie moved horizontally several pegs. She could have been standing on solid ground, she seemed so at ease. “Really. Plus, you might not know this, but it’s against the law for a child under the age of eighteen to climb one of these without protective gear. Your dad can get in trouble for this.”
Shiloh looked down. “Nuh-uh.”
“Oh, yeah. Big fine. They call it child endangerment. He could go to jail.”
“Jail?” Shiloh looked over her shoulder and momentarily lost her balance. One foot slipped out from under her, but, luckily, Jessie was there to stabilize her.
“Grab the purple knob with your left hand and hold on tight until the dizziness passes.”
Cade’s neck ached from looking up but he wouldn’t start breathing normally again until Shiloh was on the ground. Jessie continued to talk in a low, reassuring voice, adding authority to her speech by using phrases such as personal liability, safety first and taking risks not the same as brave.
Hadn’t he said the exact same thing to Shiloh’s mother? Not that it did a bit of good. Faith claimed her career was the key to her self-identity.
“What about being a wife and mother? Doesn’t that count?” he’d asked.
She’d refused to answer. But as they said, actions spoke louder than words. Saddling a horse, riding into an arena, slipping beneath the horse at a full gallop…actions that spelled the end of her being a wife and mother.
He let out the breath he’d been holding the minute he saw Jessie and Shiloh start to descend. They probably weren’t more than ten to twelve feet above him. But it was enough to make every muscle in his body tense in nervous anticipation.
“Oh, my,” a voice said beside him.
He knew it was Remy even though he didn’t dare take his gaze off Shiloh.
He crushed Shiloh to his chest a few moments later, safe and sound. “You are grounded,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “For life.”
She wiggled free. “Oh, Daddy, I wasn’t very far up. I wouldn’t have broken anything if I fell. Would I, Jessie?”
Jessie, who was still perched above them like a lizard on a branch, suddenly launched up and out to land beside them. She picked up the boots Shiloh had kicked off. “It only takes seven pounds per square inch-that’s seven PSI—to break your collar bone. If you had landed wrong, you would have broken something, Shiloh. And if you ever do anything that stupid again, I will break something for you.”
Her tone was part teacher, part drill sergeant and part mother. And, at that moment, Cade wanted to kiss her. She was exactly what had been missing from his life for so damn long he felt like a blind person who suddenly acquired sight.
Shiloh’s look of smug triumph disappeared and she flung herself back into his arms, sobbing.
He patted her back, but his gaze never left Jessie. She looked first at the boots in her hand, then at her sister. He couldn’t read whatever silent communication passed between them, but when she looked at him, he was ready. He knew what he wanted to say.
“So, when can you two move in?”
4.5 STARS FROM RT BOOK REVIEWS:
When Jessie Bouchard, in town with her street acrobatics team, meets landlord Cade Garrity, the attraction is immediate. But when Jessie is injured during a stunt, her risky profession reminds Cade of his deceased wife, who left him a single father when her risky profession caused her death. After the two realize Jessie’s injury was no accident, they work together to find the missing member of her team who sabotaged her. Salonen provides an interesting look inside the world of Parkour/street acrobatics and her story includes lots of vivid description and nice sexual tension between Jessie and Cade.
