—Christian—Rule Number 1: You ride in my truck; you let me open the door. Another problem was the last thing I needed. Unfortunately, Cassandra Parker was mine. But the biggest problem of all? It wasn’t the beautiful stranger sticking her nose in my operations. It wasn’t the bulldozer she was driving over my way of life. And it definitely wasn’t the fact that she was living in my house. My biggest problem? The engagement ring on her finger. —Cassandra—Rule Number 1: If you’re going to kill someone, make it look like an accident, cry at the funeral, admit to nothing, and deny everything. To be clear, I didn’t want to be Christian Griffith’s problem. But there I was: exiled from New York, stranded on a cattle ranch, and desperate to salvage what was left of my career. Living with a single dad and his children was a downgrade from my high-rise office and city comforts, but I agreed to it for one simple reason: to save my job. A hot cowboy wasn’t going to lasso me into staying a second longer than necessary.