Chasing Mr. Wrong Read online

  Finally, his patience paid off.

  “Maybe this woman also knows that you’re different in public than you are in private.”

  That swatted his ribs like a rolled up newspaper. Of course he was different with Whitney in private than public. It had been a basis of their whole frustrating relationship. The truth was, though, he felt more himself—safer—alone with her than anywhere else.

  “Do you think the woman in question likes me in private or public?”

  Whitney looked at him. “She likes you in private, just wishes she knew the public side of you better.”

  She reached up and ran a finger along the edge of his Stetson.

  “I’m learning she has a thing for cowboys, too,” he whispered, his mouth hovering just over hers.

  “But you’re not a cowboy,” she countered.

  “No, ma’am, I’m not.”

  She searched his face, those fingers dropping from his hat to his cheek, then down to his neck. “So maybe she just has a thing for you.”

  “If that’s so, why would she run?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “She’s bound to leave eventually.”

  That made something twist in his stomach, but he did his best to ignore and move past it. “Maybe so. But she’s not leaving tonight.”

  He leaned down and snagged the smallest sample of those full lips, tasting the sweetest drug he’d ever had. And damn he’d missed it. Not having a hit of her for a week had strung him out in a way that hurt. It left him jonesing for more, needing that fire to feel alive. With one taste, he turned on like a broken engine revved to life.

  “Whoa,” she breathed against his mouth. “It’s not very fair that you can rock a girl’s world with one kiss.”

  His thoughts exactly. He grinned, but stopped short, because the truth was, the woman in his arms was rocking a lot in his own world. Like, the whole damn atmosphere.

  “You’re the one who’s shaking up my life, sweetness.”

  She looked up at him, and he kept her close so he could continue slowly kissing her lips, taking little tastes, like she was the last spoonful of sweet cream and he wanted every drop.

  “You don’t seem like a shakable guy,” she whispered, then gently met his tongue with the tip of her own. It took all of his will to keep the languid pace and light brushes from escalating prematurely. Because he was ready to dive deep and get lost for the whole night.

  “I’m not,” he admitted. “But I’ve had my moments.”

  “Tell me,” she asked, and the softness in her voice, paired with the way her breath hit his face, made him give in. Something, once again, he shouldn’t do. But Whitney was there with him, making him feel like he wanted to confide in her. As if, in this one moment, just the two of them, away from prying eyes and the reality of a public persona, he could be himself.

  “I’ve followed the wildness all the way, and it didn’t turn out well for me.”

  Her hand smoothed up his stomach, his pressed shirt giving off a crisp sound as she went, as if she were quietly urging him to go on.

  “I was young,” he said, “I got caught up in a woman that had certain interests. I thought I was one of them. I was too far gone to see what she was really after, and I almost lost everything.”

  Whitney’s mocha eyes searched his for a moment, then she leaned in. Her nose skimmed along his jaw as she tilted her head, and a look of anger and sadness crossed her face.

  “You are more than…” She trailed off, and Ryder really wanted to hear the rest of that thought, but she changed gears. “What do you mean you almost lost everything?”

  “I eloped with her. My money, my inheritance, my family’s legacy, it all came into play. I knew that. My father had warned me about it every day of my life. But I was young. Stupid. I didn’t think she’d want anything more than me.” He shook his head. “Luckily, I got out of it without losing too much of my family’s money or good name.”

  Just talking about it filled him with anger at himself. She could have taken his family to the cleaners. The settlement hadn’t hit them too hard, but that wasn’t the worst part. It was that Ryder had flat out lost control and given in to what he shouldn’t have—his own wants, his own desires—with no thought for the consequences.

  “It’s hard to imagine that you eloped.”

  “Not one of my finest moments,” he rasped. “Which is why I don’t jump into anything. Don’t play casual and don’t—”

  “Go for women with nothing to offer,” she said, and the expression that crossed her face was one he couldn’t stand.

  “I was going to say that I stay away from things that tempt me past the point of reason.” Using a single fingertip, he raised her chin until her dark gaze was back on his. She was the most tempting thing he’d ever encountered. Which was why he did know better than to pursue her. He was trying to control his addiction, and he was slipping. He felt it every time she was in his arms. And try as he might, he kept finding her back in them.

  “I’m not looking for anything from you, Ryder,” she said. And that admission should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. It hit against his chest like a rubber bullet and left a painful numbness. “You looked dressed for a night out,” she breathed against his lips.

  He had decided to go to the BBQ and ask her out. Again. Then she would have turned him down. Again. Then he’d persist and, once she agreed, he’d finally prove to himself he could control himself around her after all.

  The plan had been doomed from the start, though. He ought to just cut himself off from her completely. But the truth was, he enjoyed Whitney—everything from her body to her company. What was more, he enjoyed who he was with her, bad idea or not. With her, he got to be real, and she allowed that. Welcomed it, even.

  He needed to lie to her now, find the words that would send her away from him before he got himself in any deeper. But she wanted from him only what was real, and though he knew it would make things worse, he wouldn’t betray her with anything less than the truth.

  “I just want to spend the night with you. However you want.”

  She looked him in the eyes. “How about a compromise?”

  He trailed his lips along hers and said, “I’m listening.”

  “You want a dinner date. I want to eat you for dinner… How about we meet in the middle and I cook for you this time?”

  He smiled against her mouth and said the one word she’d given him over the past couple of weeks that always made his pulse quicken with anticipation.

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I really do love your cooking,” Ryder said, spooning up a helping of dessert.

  “Yes, well, I worked hard on this meal,” Whitney fibbed. Obviously she hadn’t baked since they were in her hotel room.

  He just shot her a smile. “Yeah, I saw how difficult it was dialing the phone to order room service.”

  She shrugged. “It’s my version of cooking. Still counts. Sort of…”

  They both laughed.

  Ryder held out a spoonful of dessert and she leaned in to let him feed her.

  “Oh my God, this is good,” Whitney said around a bite of apple cobbler. Yep, room service was the best idea ever. He had stayed true to his word and not touched her until after their meal. He got his pseudo date, and Whitney got him on her bed. Only he was still clothed—something she was hoping to change shortly.

  She sat on the mattress, legs crossed and facing Ryder, while he leaned against the headboard and held the bowl of dessert they shared. He reached out with a spoonful for her. She took another bite, and when the spoon left her lips, he instantly brought it to his own mouth. Watching the man eat was hot. Watching him walk was hot. Watching him stand and do nothing was hot.

  She was hard pressed to find anything about Ryder that wasn’t, in fact, hot. And now her train of thought was on what muscles lay beneath that perfectly pressed shirt of his. Not to mention, he was feeding her, sharing with her, like they were…


  Don’t say it.

  Because they weren’t a couple. Or even friends. They were just having fun. That’s it.

  His cell on the bedside table buzzed. He glanced at it, then took a deep breath and ignored it.

  “If you need to get that—”

  “It’s fine,” he said. But just then, the phone buzzed again.

  “You’re a busy man,” she said. “And apparently in high demand.”

  He glanced at the bowl of dessert. “There’s a lot going on for the opening of the Davenport Hall.”

  “Are you worried?” she asked quietly.

  He shook his head. “Yes and no. There are a lot of people watching. A lot of eyes on this event.”

  “The town you mean? Are they all expecting you to have built this awesome Hall, one with no equal?” She gave a playful smile, but Ryder was serious.

  “Kind of…yeah.”

  Wow, that was heavy. And a lot to deal with.

  “This one is important because it’s a showcase of me and my crew’s work,” he said. “My men are waiting to see if we get a chance to bid on Davenport’s next project.”

  “Job security,” she said.

  “Yeah. But it’s more than that. We’re not just restoring the Hall. We’re restoring the city. It’s a chance for the community to come together. Penny is providing food, the booster club hired the band… Everything and everyone comes together and they earn their livings that way.”

  “So basically this event has a lot of futures wrapped up in it.”

  Ryder nodded and that’s when she saw the pride in his eyes. He was riding at the forefront of this community project like he was born to do it. Because he was a strong, good man who cared about his community. He was a leader.

  “So, have you ever had apple cobbler before?” he asked, holding another spoonful out for her.

  Part of her wanted him to go on speaking about the Hall and his love for the city of Diamond. She’d suspected that his need for self-control was about some deep insecurity. And maybe there was a little of that, but she saw, too, that it was born from a deep devotion to the people he loved. He believed they depended on him, and he’d die before he let them down. No wonder he put such pressure on himself to keep control.

  She knew that look in his eye, though. He needed a little distance. So she took the cobbler with a smile.

  “No, never had it before,” she said. “The group home had mostly boxed meals, and none of my foster parents ever cooked much.”

  Ryder stilled.

  Whitney went pale. At least, she was pretty sure she did, since she felt the blood drain from her face. She never talked about her life. Her past. Any of it. She’d had her sister to talk to, and that was it. And she was gone now. So there was no reminiscing about her less than stellar childhood required.

  Yet she’d just opened up to Ryder like he was her soul mate or something.

  “How many foster parents did you have?” he asked.

  She shrugged, trying for a flippant demeanor, but Ryder’s gray eyes were penetrating, like he could see right through her.

  “Lost count,” she admitted. “But about two a year. Then there were bouts in the group home until another family was selected.”

  “That’s why you said you were from everywhere.”

  “We stayed near the Boston area.”

  “We, as in you and your sister.”

  She leaned toward him and licked her lips. He obliged her with another bite of cobbler. It gave her a minute to think. Usually her thoughts would be about how to get out of this conversation, but for some reason, talking to Ryder didn’t feel so bad.

  “Yes, we stuck together.”

  “I’m glad. So you had a sense of home wherever you went,” he said, and the softness in his voice made that hole in her chest throb. He understood. They were two totally different people from totally different walks of life, and somehow he said the one thing that summed up perfectly her life, her sister, and what Kacey had meant to her.

  “Yes. She was like home.” Just saying it crushed her. Yeah, she went from place to place now, no roots, because once she’d lost Kacey, no place had ever felt like home again.

  “I’m sorry you lost her.”

  He didn’t ask how or why, or go for the gory details. He was calm, allowing her to lead with whatever she wanted to tell. And she appreciated him for that. More than she ever thought she could appreciate anyone.

  “So…” She slapped her thighs, hoping for a subject detour. Because, truth was, she wanted to hear about Ryder. He’d opened up to her a little, and she valued that information dearly. It was a glimpse into the man he kept hidden. The man she enjoyed being around. “Word around the BBQ is this Hall you’ve redone is a big hit.” She snagged his hat and put it on her head.

  “It’s a landmark for the town. It’s large and old, but with it restored, and by adding the auditorium, there will be an opportunity for some theater projects, plays, and events to be held there. Which is great for the city.”

  “And that woman you talk to owns it?”

  He looked at her. “Clara Davenport is the daughter of Milton Davenport, the man who owns a lot of property in Kansas.”

  “Ah. So she must love that you’re in her building a lot.”

  Ryder smiled. “Why, sweetness, if I didn’t know better, it’d sound like you were fishing.”

  “Nope,” she said quickly. But crap, was she? She was out of her element here, thanks to this whole not-a-date-but-sort-of-a-date-thing.

  “Clara and I went to school together. That’s it. She’s…”

  “Persistent?”

  “Something like that,” Ryder said. “Where did you go to school?”

  She frowned. “What kind of question is that?”

  “One I’m interested in. I didn’t know, with you having to move so much, if you got to stay at the same school.”

  “For the most part we stayed in the same district. But our housing situation changed a lot. So it’s all a blur.”

  “Making friends must have been hard.”

  She looked at the silvery pools of his eyes, eating her up. Ryder and Penny were close. They had the same friends now that they’d had when they were young. And they were all close. That kind of family was something Whitney had always thought to be a myth. But the town of Diamond embodied the word “family.” If they took you in, you belonged for life, no matter who you were or where you came from.

  Pain welled up in her chest. This was why she didn’t do the whole “talking and getting to know people” part of dating.

  Ryder held out another spoonful of cobbler, and she took it, glad for the distraction. Chewing slightly was calming, and so was the food. So was Ryder’s presence, actually. He looked at her and waited with what seemed like infinite calm and control. And for the first time, she felt the urge to talk about her sister.

  “Kacey was all I had,” she said. “She was really sweet, always setting goals and looking on the bright side. She took joy in every damn thing in life.”

  Ryder nodded, listening intently.

  “She died last year. Car accident. I was with her.”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetness.” His low tone made her heart swell. He was there, not pushing, not asking, just letting her talk. Letting her be who she was. He wasn’t reaching out to rub her arm like she was some broken, pitiful thing. He simply held out another spoonful of dessert, and she took the bite.

  “I miss her. I try to live the way she did. Moving. Experiencing everything I can.”

  “Smart.”

  She frowned. “You think so?”

  “You do what you want, when you want. Always moving, no one to answer to. You live for yourself and for your sister. I can see the appeal of that. Heck, in some ways, I envy you.”

  “But sooner or later, won’t it catch up to me?” she asked, not because she meant it but because she’d heard it so many times she couldn’t stand to hear it again.

  “No,” Ryder said with seriousness
. “I don’t think anything can catch up to you, sweetness. You’re a special kind of wild.” She smiled, and heat spread from her mouth to her stomach. “But sooner or later, you may want to be caught. For real.”

  Was he serious? He couldn’t be talking about himself…could he? He couldn’t honestly be thinking that she’d stay… Or could he? And if he was serious, could she stay? Would she want to?

  No, surely not. There was a reason she lived in the moment and never stayed in any place or with any one person for too long. And as far as staying here with Ryder, hadn’t he just said it himself? Their very natures were on opposite ends of the spectrum. As much as she yearned for roots, she was wild at heart. And as much as he yearned to be wild, he was rooted in Diamond with all the self-control he could summon.

  “I’ll never want to be caught for real,” she whispered. It was too permanent. There was too much life to live. Too many memories to outrun.

  Ryder set the bowl on the bedside table. “Then I pity the person who tries to catch you.”

  Her chest stung on his admission, and she didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to think, because he was taking up too much room in her mind and her heart. She needed to get back to her plan. This was supposed to be casual, right? No dates. No romance. None of the heavy emotions he was pulling out of her.

  Which meant it was time to poke Ryder until that alpha side of his took over.

  “You came in tonight and said you thought of tasting me?”

  He nodded.

  “Want to know what I thought of when I saw you the first time?” she asked.

  He raised a brow. Clearly he wasn’t welcoming the subject change, but when she crawled toward him and unbuttoned the top clasp of his shirt, then the next, then the next, the movement of his chest shifted rhythm, from shallow inhales to deep breaths.

  “I thought of how you would take me. Would you be hard or soft?” She undid another button. “Fast or slow?” The last button opened, showing his impressive skin and hard torso. “Mostly I wondered what your hands would feel like on my skin.”