Rio Carlsen turned his gaze away from the picturesque wine country scenery speeding past them—spring-green everywhere—to stretch a long arm across the back of Kimmer’s bucket seat, glancing behind them and bracing himself as she took an unsignaled left turn. “Suburban. Big. Old. Can you say ‘eat my dust’?”Kimmer shook her head, short and firm, eyes on the road. She could outrun him…but she wouldn’t. She took another left, accelerated down a barely traveled alley on the outer edge of Watkins Glen, shot across a one-way feeder road, and downshifted to take the next left at speed. “This isn’t a Hunter Agency assignment. This is my home. There are rules.”Rules about how to live…rules for those around her.Rio’s hand strayed from the back of the seat to stroke the hair at Kimmer’s nape, a short dark fringe that showed well enough how her hair would explode into curls if she ever freed it from its close cut. A reassuring touch that could turn smoldering in a moment, but right now it wasn’t nearly as casual as it might seem.
