Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(43)

She had to do something to make up for her bout of bitchiness.


She could be fun. Playful.


As Colt was about to toss the ball, she tickled his left side, from his hip to his ribs. He faced her with a look of utter disbelief, forgetting about the forward motion of the ball. It flew from his hand and bounced off the top of the metal cage, rebounding toward them.


India yelled, “Duck!” and jerked him down, keeping an eye on the ball as it bounced on the red carpet and narrowly missed smashing his foot.


“What the hell were you doin’?”


“Saving you from the run-away ball.” Why wasn’t he pleased by her quick thinking?


“You were saving me?” he echoed. “It was your fault that the damn thing got away from me in the first place. Were you hopin’ to distract me so you’d win by default?”


“No. I was trying to be spontaneous and fun. Jesus. Now do you believe me that I suck at this dating stuff?”


A beat passed. Colt bestowed that bad boy grin that wreaked havoc on her at the most basic level. “Well, if the datin’ stuff doesn’t work then we can go to plan ‘B’.”


“Which is?”


“Lots and lots of kinky, wild sex.”


“Have I mentioned I’m an alternative plan kind of chick?”


He laughed. “Thought that might spur your interest. Let’s stick with plan ‘A’ for now. Maybe we’d better sit down.”


As Colt led her back to the table, they passed a walled-off area she hadn’t noticed. Apparently he hadn’t noticed either because when he did, he almost dislocated her arm dragging her inside the small space. “Holy crap. I haven’t seen one of them in years.”


India wasn’t sure what he was gawking at. “What?”


“The Eight Ball Express. It’s a classic pinball machine.” He dropped her hand, staring at the machine with reverence. “Just one game.”


When Colt plugged the tokens into the slot, his eyes lit up as brightly as the lights on the machine. His concentration through the cachink cachink of the metal ball, the buzzers, the trilling bells and constant flipper action was impressive. But after ten minutes, India was bored. She sighed heavily.


He glanced at her for all of one second. “Ain’t this great?”


“Yeah, it’s hard, holding in all my excitement.”


The machine beeped some kind of tinny, victorious sound. He punched the air and said, “High score!”


He grinned in the boyish way that had her returning his smile without hesitation. “I see that. Does that mean you’re finished?”


Colt latched onto her hips and thrust her in front of him. “Uh-huh. Now it’s your turn.”


“But I don’t know how to play.”


“I’ll help you.” Colt guided her fingers to the circular buttons on either side of the machine, snuggling his body behind hers.


“These are flippers, they keep your ball in play.” He pressed her fingers and the small mechanical arms moved. “See? Now get ready.” He pulled back on the silver knob on the right side, which connected to a shiny spring.


India watched the metal ball travel up the canal and bounce around the posts at the top, before continuing down the middle and out of sight.


Not a good sign. “Sorry. Told you I was bad at this.”