To be honest, he didn’t have time for dating at all, even if he were interested. But Huck and Bass had been on his ass often enough that agreeing to this one blind date seemed like the easiest way to shut them up.

“I agreed to this setup of yours,” Ryder said. “I didn’t agree to get shit from you about it.”

Besides, Bass’s friend was only in town for one night. Just passing through. So no matter how well—or, if Ryder’s track record was any indication, how not well—it went, he’d be back to his normal life tomorrow.

Still, he felt compelled to say, “I don’t need help getting dates.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Bass said with seriousness. “But half the single females around here don’t want to date you, they want to marry you.”

Huck did some kind of hand waving gesture while singing, “If you like it, you should put a ring on it.”

When both Bass and Ryder stared at their tattooed, pierced, and generally badass looking friend singing, of all things, a Beyoncé song, Huck stopped and shrugged.

“What? Autumn aerobicizes to that song. It’s catchy.”

“Jesus,” Ryder muttered.

Bass gave Huck a look like he understood and smiled.

His friends were happy. Really fucking happy. And Ryder was happy for them. Both had wonderful women in their lives, and Huck was going be a father. Both of them had an ease in every step that made it seem like they were walking on sunshine 24/7.

“This is a great opportunity for you,” Bass said, returning his attention to Ryder. “Everyone around here knows you, your name, and…”

Bass trailed off, but Ryder could guess what he was going to say next, because he’d dealt with it for a while now. Everyone, especially women, wanted a piece of Ryder. And not in the cool kind of way. They didn’t want him, they wanted what he could offer—like his name and station in town.

Something he’d learned the hard way when he was young and stupid, and it had almost cost his family everything.

Bass clapped Ryder on the shoulder. “Tonight you get to be yourself with a stranger that doesn’t know you’re Mr. Diamond of the founding Diamonds.”

“You didn’t tell her my name?”

“Nope. Just told her to be on the lookout for a jackass in a tie.”

“Funny,” Ryder said, really happy he’d ditched the tie now. Bass knew him too well. But the idea his friend had posed was intriguing. For one night, he didn’t have to be Ryder Diamond. And he was meeting his date at the lodge on the edge of town, where almost no locals went.

“I’m going to head out,” Ryder said.

Both guys looked him up and down as if assessing his outfit.

“I dunno…” Huck said.

Bass nodded. “He needs the tie. Don’t you think?”

“Definitely. It would really bring the whole outfit together in that classic ‘I have no clue how to dress myself’ kind of way.”

Ryder rolled his eyes. “What’s her name?”

“Her stage name is Candy,” Bass said.

“Stage name?” Ryder’s eyes shot wide. “Did you set me up with a stripper?”

“She’s really nice,” Bass defended. “A bit quirky, but a fun girl.”

“You’re going to marry my sister, and you know a stripper?” Ryder took a step toward his friend, that itch in his hand doubling.

“Easy there,” Bass said. “I represented her when I worked on a case in Wichita a couple of years ago.” Okay, that was better. But apparently Bass felt the need to elaborate. “Besides, Penny is way sexier than any stripper, and her lap dances are—”

“My ears are bleeding!” Ryder snapped. He didn’t need to hear that shit.

What had Bass been thinking, not telling Ryder these kinds of details about this blind date? He hadn’t even given her actual name. Was Ryder really supposed to call her by her stage name all evening?

He couldn’t. Actually, he shouldn’t go at all.

This was just a bad idea. And bad ideas were what Ryder spent most of his time fighting. He might be responsible, but he had to work at it. Because deep down, Ryder loved a challenge. He also loved his prized control and calm. He had impulses for the wild and crazy as much as the next man, but that was a constant internal battle he fought daily. Logic always won out. It had to.

Huck seemed to recognize the reservation on his face, because he piped up with, “You better get going, golden boy. Running late is against your good manners policy.”

Huck might be giving him a hard time, but he was still right. Ryder hated being late, so yeah, he hustled.

“Remember, this is a casual date,” Bass said. “Be yourself.”

One night to be himself did sound good. But Ryder wasn’t as hopeful as his buddy that this wouldn’t turn in to some kind of disaster. He’d just try to get through what would likely be an awkward meal and be on his way.

“I’m assuming I’ll be able to tell what she looks like?” Ryder asked.

“Yeah, you’ll be able to tell. She’s a brunette stripper. Just look for the hottest girl in the place.”

“And take some condoms with you!” Huck yelled as Ryder grabbed his keys and headed out, hating his friend with a passion at that moment.

Great. Just fucking great.

Whitney took a sip of her pineapple vodka and eyed the pool table. The lodge she was staying at was rustic and quaint. Okay, so it had antlers of all varieties on the wall, and this particular room was covered in floor to ceiling dark wood paneling. The interior decorator was obviously male and some kind of hunting enthusiast. Not her taste, but it was cheap and a place to stay.

The small bar and sitting area around the corner had a few people scattered around, so she came into the horns haven game room to be by herself and try not to think about her life. Or the lack of anyone in it.

On one hand, that was just how she liked it.

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—