Return to the Black Hills

Cade could say what he felt—that she was better off not working in such a dangerous field. But what he did know was the passion she brought to her work.
Passion.
Bad choice of words. He pictured himself kissing her, holding her, doing a lot more with her.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Just realized I forgot to turn off the slow cooker,” he lied.

“I’ve never met a man who rescues damsels in distress by day and cooks and cleans at night. You might very well be perfect.”

“I’m a single dad. If I don’t do it, nobody does. And as for rescuing you, that was more a matter of being in the right place at the right time.”

After they hung up, Cade sighed. Jessie made him remember he was a man who hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. Which made him realize inviting the Bouchard twins into his life might well have been his worst idea to date.

We are nearing the end of the Spotlight on Sentinel Pass series. It seemed appropriate that the final two books would begin to draw us away from the Black Hills. Ironic, given the title of this book, right? But in romance, all is never what it seems at first glance.

Jessie Bouchard, a successful stuntwoman, has sacrificed a great deal for her career. She’s chosen an “extreme” lifestyle of physical challenges and relentless travel as a way to avoid those sticky, unpleasant emotional tangles she witnessed in her mother’s life.

Prodigal son Cade Garrity returns to his Black Hills roots knowing exactly what he wants: to build a safe, nurturing home for his daughter. Would Cade be open to finding a mate? Absolutely. But his late wife chose her career over her family. He won’t go down that road again—even for someone like Jessie, who tempts him to make a short-term exception to his rules.

In researching Jessie’s backstory, I learned a great deal about the sports called Parkour and Free running. These athletes are fearless, dedicated and exciting to watch. I knew I’d found my heroine when I saw stuntwoman Luci Romberg’s Incredible Egg commercial on TV. Thanks, Luci, for friending me on Facebook. It’s a joy to follow your interesting career.

Next month, Jessie’s twin sister, Remy, will close out this series. I hope you’ve enjoyed all nine Spotlight on Sentinel Pass books. If you’ve missed any, Harlequin has released them all as ebooks. As a new devotee of electronic books, I highly recommend you give downloading these titles a try. What a great way to store a library!

Debra Salonen

1238—CALEB’S CHRISTMAS WISH

1279—HIS REAL FATHER

1386—A BABY ON THE WAY

1392—WHO NEEDS CUPID?
“The Max Factor”

1434—LOVE, BY GEORGE

1452—BETTING ON SANTA

1492—BABY BY CONTRACT
#

1516—HIS BROTHER’S SECRET
#

1540—DADDY BY SURPRISE
#

1564—PICTURE-PERFECT MOM
#

1588—FINDING THEIR SON
#

1633—UNTIL HE MET RACHEL
#

1662—THE GOOD PROVIDER
#

1126—BRINGING BABY HOME

1139—THE QUIET CHILD

“It’s definitely phallic.”

Jessie ignored the humor 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 lightning rod thingie we added.”

Remy moved 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,” Jessie answered, watching Zane and Eerik—the oldest and youngest members, respectively, of Team Shockwave—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 leaderboard 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.

“Well, the plan looks downright dumb to me,” Remy groused. “But since when have you ever listened to any one else?”

Jessie turned to look at her. “Nobody is twisting your arm to watch the show, you know. 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, seriously, the way they looked over her shoulder could be claustrophobic. “The point is I’m not hiding or pouting or taking crazy risks. Just the opposite, in fact.” 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 moue. “What about the lightning 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 jump backward and rappel back and forth, like Tarzan and a really hot Jane,” she said, pounding her chest.

Remy crossed her arms. The pinched 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 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 her plans to stay in the Black Hills, Eerik shot toward them on a skateboard. At nineteen, the guy was part fearless maniac, part laid-back surfer dude. “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 Parkour athlete, executing a backflip 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 some 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. Instead, she asked, “Who did you say you were meeting?”

“Cade Garrity. His sister, Kat, is friends with Libby Lindstrom. Cooper Lindstrom’s wife,” Jessie added meaningfully. She 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, the director, had decided to give the stunt demonstration as a thank-you to the locals for so generously 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 duffel bag. She found the plastic vial 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 in 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 someday who 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 duffel 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-blond 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 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 he’s doing this for the 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 a lot more money than she currently had. Another reason to win
Kamikaze’s
million-dollar prize.