Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)

Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6) by Lorelei James


Chapter One

In celebration of his first year of sobriety, Colt McKay climbed on the back of a bull and rode for a full eight seconds.

In celebration of his second year of sobriety, Colt McKay climbed in an airplane and parachuted out.

In celebration of his third year of sobriety, Colt McKay had hoped to climb on a woman and end his self-imposed sexual abstinence of the previous thirty-six months.

He imagined soft candlelight, soft kisses, a woman’s soft skin and a soft bed beneath him.

At least that part of his fantasy had come true. Colt was in bed.

He was even laying face down on a puffy tie-dyed quilt with a woman beside him. However, he was not basking in the afterglow of red-hot sex, rather, he was grimacing in pain from the sensation of a red-hot poker jabbing him in the butt for the millionth time.

“Fuck. That hurts.”

“Almost done. Two more quick stitches and you’ll be good to go,” Doctor Monroe trilled in that annoyingly chipper voice of hers.

Go. Right. Where the hell was he supposed to go?

Snip snip. Murmured words. Everything was going fuzzy. With his previous substance abuse issues he’d refused the torturous Doc’s Lorelei James

painkillers, so he figured the adrenaline high was wearing off and he was about to crash. Hard.

Great. Just what he didn’t need. To look even more pathetic, helpless and weak.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Colt lifted his head and glared at the woman with the whiskey-rough voice who’d dared to speak to him. Any other time the remorse swimming in those amazing sapphire eyes would sway him to be soft and sweet with her.

Not now. Maybe not ever again.

He kept his tone cool, even when he wanted to scream his fool head off at her. “Not so bad? For who? Jesus Christ, Indy, you shot me in the ass. It don’t get a whole lot worse than that.”

Chapter Two

“It was an accident.”

Colt grunted.

“Why did you come barging in like that anyway?” India’s pulse skipped when he cranked his head around and glared at her.

Again.

“Are you serious? Three punks were hassling you. You were by yourself. At night.”

“So? It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. Besides, I had it under control.”

“Sure didn’t look like it. Why didn’t you shoot them with the nail gun?”

“I would have if I’d thought of it.”

Dr. Monroe said, “Well, whatever her intentions were, you’re very lucky she had a bad angle and the nail only went through the dermis and not into the bone.”

“Lucky. Right.”

“Done.” The smell of antiseptic burned strong for a second.

The sound of ripping paper was followed by the snapping removal of latex gloves. Dr. Monroe said, “You sure you don’t want a painkiller, Colt? That local anesthetic will wear off in another two hours.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I thought you’d say that.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll swing by tomorrow to check on you to make sure there’s no infection.”

“Wasn’t that what the tetanus shot was for?”

“No. The only reason I’m not admitting you to the hospital is because of the…delicate nature of the wound’s location. The gossipmongers in this town would have a field day with this incident, especially in light of your previous reputation, so I understand why your brother thought it’d be best if you were treated here.” Her eyes narrowed. “That said, if you feel feverish and uncommonly sore at any time in the next twelve hours, you’d better get this butt to the ER. Pronto.”