Chasing Mr. Wrong (Chasing Love 4)

On the other hand, what she wouldn’t give for a fantasy man to help scratch that itch. Even if just for tonight.

She walked around the table one more time, eyeing her next shot, pausing only to grab a Sour Patch Kid from her purse and pop it into her mouth. Nothing was better than sweet, sour, and vodka.

Her sister Kacey had hated sour things. She’d also hated mustard and white chocolate. But she’d loved summertime. Loved running straight into the ocean with her arms spread wide. Loved life.

It had been over a year since her big sister had died in a car accident. And the memory still cut straight to her bones when Whitney thought of her. Yet all she did lately was think of her sister and the night she’d lost her. How she was the lucky one who had walked away from the crash, and Kacey wasn’t.

But Whitney didn’t feel lucky. It should have been Kacey who survived. She’d always been the stronger one. The wiser one. The better sister. But fate had chosen Whitney to survive, and every day since, she’d been on the run from both that moment and the life she’d left behind.

It made her sick to think of the things her sister would now never achieve. She’d been trying to figure out what to do ever since Kacey had died, and she’d finally come to one conclusion. If fate had chosen Whitney to live, then that was what she would do. She would embrace every new opportunity. She would see the world. She would follow her heart and never look back. If not for her, then for Kacey.

Which was why at almost eight o’clock on a Friday night, she was alone in some small-ass Kansas town, ready to spend a few weeks there before taking off again for however far her next tank of gas lasted. Tomorrow, she’d have to figure out what the next step would be. But tonight? Time to see where the wind blew her.

She took another drink of her vodka, set it down, and bent over the pool table. She stroked the pool cue, positioned it, aimed…

“Nine ball, side pocket,” she whispered. With a crack of the cue ball hitting the nine, she sank her shot with precision.

“Candy?” came a rugged voice from behind her.

She gasped, startled she wasn’t alone in the room anymore and turned to face—

Hol-ee-hotness.

A tall, painfully attractive man with intense gray eyes and boy next door charm was staring her down. He might have a gentlemanly appeal that radiated off of him, but there was nothing gentlemanly about the obviously well-honed muscles he was rockin’ beneath that shirt.

“Candy?” she repeated. She frowned then glanced at her purse. Odd request, but maybe he’d seen her snag some and

wanted a piece. She walked to her bag, trying to hide her smile. She’d happily give him a piece…anytime. Because the guy was seriously sexy.

She reached in and grabbed a Sour Patch Kid and walked it to the hottie.

He took the piece, looked at it, then at her.

“Cute,” he said. “Really cute.” He popped it in his mouth. “I’m Ryder.”

He reached out his hand to shake hers. Yep, gentleman. But she took it, and his grip instantly engulfed her smaller hand. His palm was thick with healed callouses.

Must be a hard worker…

What would those big hands feel like running up her bare back…

She just stood mute, struck by those hot gray eyes, while her mind churned out a wicked fantasy involving tall, tan, and sexy over there and the pool table behind her. A grin tugged at his perfect lips, as if he could read her thoughts. She blushed and pulled her hand away.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

She just nodded, because he was the first nice thing to come walking into her world in a long time. It wasn’t until his gaze had fastened on her that she realized how rarely she interacted with people for any amount of time. Sure, she got out and lived it up when she could, but she never made friends because she was always moving.

Yet people fascinated her. Being a sociology major, she’d always enjoyed observing individuals and their interactions within their societal norms, what passed for prim and proper versus wild and wanton depending on the city. Nothing about this man struck her as prim and proper, though. The way he looked at her made her shiver, and she wanted to stand there and bask in the moment for a second.

He looked so damn put together that it made her examine herself quickly. She was in her favorite cutoff shorts and tank top that read put some south in your mouth—something it seemed Ryder couldn’t help but notice. Good. She’d gotten the shirt for its sass as much as for how it outlined the girls and got the attention of whatever man she put in her sights.

Because she was looking right back at him, wishing she had the power to melt cotton with her eyes. While she wasn’t sure on most things, she was certain that the man before her had an impressive physique, and she wanted to see more of it.

“So.” He glanced at the pool table before returning that smoldering gaze to her. He looked at her in a way that made her chest hitch and her breasts tingle. “Care for a partner?”

His eyes stayed on her, and she was ready to take him up on that offer in more ways than one.

“Yes, please,” she said.