I remember three things most about Lucas Warner. One. He’s a dirty talker, and I doubt ten years in the military cleaned up that filthy mouth of his. (Not a complaint. In fact, just the opposite.) Two. He has a possessive streak. When we dated, I was his. Hard stop. Three. The look on his face when we broke up. When my father’s relentless complaints about “that boy from the wrong side of town” finally wore me down. Unfortunately, my father was wrong about a lot of things including that breaking up with Lucas would effectively end my “bad boy” phase. Because he’s back home, raising hell in Kitchi Falls by opening up a tattoo parlor on our quiet little Main Street, and nothing would make me happier than to march into his studio and beg for him to possess me one more time. The only problem? Besides the fact that Lucas hates me? He’s not the only one on a road to redemption, and my path does not include a detour with the one man most likely to break my heart. Again.