Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(16)

“Not like mine.” Cam’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you oughta take your own advice.”


“You want me to ask Domini out?”


“Fuck off. Maybe you should quit mooning around India and do something about it.”


Colt chugged the last of his water. “I have done something about it.”


“What?”


“Given up.”


“Are you kidding me?”


“Nope. I realized India ain’t ever gonna see me beyond a drunk she’s counseled or her best bud, so I asked someone else to the community dance Saturday night.”


“Who?”


“Fallon Jacobson.”


Cam’s jaw dropped. “No f*cking way.”


“What makes you say that?”


“Because she’s so not your type. She’s…”


Irritably, Colt said, “She’s what?”


“Nice. Normal. Quiet.” He sipped his water. “Kinda plain.”


“And that’s bad?”


“Hell no. That’s just not the type of woman you’ve chased after in the past.”


“It’s been so long since I’ve done any chasin’ I figured my tastes have changed.”


“How’d you hook up with her?”


“She was in the hardware store Monday mornin’. We got to talkin’ and the next thing I knew I was askin’ her out.” His determination to move on had happened far quicker than Colt planned. “Maybe you should ask Domini and we can make it a double date.”


Cam scowled. “Yeah. I’m a one-legged dancing machine these days. Thanks, but I’ll pass from that public humiliation.”


“You can run five miles but you won’t two-step? That’s sad, man. Lemme know if you change your mind.” Colt stood. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”


“Me too. Later.” Cam grabbed his duffel and headed for the exit—the opposite direction of the showers. He never took off his prosthetic in public.


When Colt climbed into his pickup, his cell phone buzzed in the seat. He didn’t have to pick it up to know who’d called him.


Three times.


India.


Seeing her name—and no one else’s—pop up on the screen, strengthened his resolve to put physical and emotional distance between them.


Chapter Five


“Come on, come on, come on, pick up,” India muttered as she paced in her kitchen.


“The number you’ve reached is unavailable. At the tone, please record your message. Beep.”


“Hi, Colt. It’s India. But you knew that. Anyway, I-umm, hope you’re okay. We missed you at the meeting Tuesday night, and I’m…well, I’m worried about you. I’ve been trying to reach you since Monday.” Stupid, India, he knows that, courtesy of the twenty increasingly paranoid messages you’ve left him.


“Beep. End of message.”


“Fuck!” India hit redial and waited for it to kick over to voice mail. She half-listened to the same canned response. Finally, the beep sounded.


“Look. I understand that you’re embarrassed about what happened Sunday morning. But I don’t see where you get off blowing three years worth of our friendship just because you’re embarrassed. We’ve always been able to talk through anything, and this shouldn’t be an exception. You’re making this so hard on—”