Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(7)

“This is the thanks I get for keeping your humiliation under wraps?”


“Come on, Cam. Ranchin’ with the family ain’t that bad.”


Cam snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you. How you feelin’?”


“Sore.”


“Could be worse.”


“True. I could’ve been facin’ forward and she could’ve shot me in the dick.”


“Ouch. Anyway, thought I’d give you a heads up. Blake will be there tonight.”


“Be where?”


“In India’s apartment.”


“Why? Is he doin’ some remodeling for her after hours?”


“No. They, ah, have a date.”


The muscles in Colt’s gut tightened. “Golden boy ain’t pouring drafts tonight at the Rusty Spur?”


“Guess not.”


“Where’d you hear this gossip? The diner?”


“I haven’t been in the diner today.”


“What the hell? You’re in there like three times a day.” Cam had a thing for sweet, shy Domini, the cook/waitress/hostess at Dewey’s Delish Dish, the restaurant next door to the tattoo shop.


“There are other places in town I can get dirty looks with my morning coffee,” Cam said without humor. “Anyway, I ran into Blake at the Super-Value. He was buying flowers, I asked him what for, and he mentioned his date with India.”


Just what Colt didn’t need, to hear Indy and Blake laughing, having a good old time, while he was hiding in the spare bedroom.


Or worse, feeling like a pervert at hearing them squeaking the mattress springs.


“Why you tellin’ me this?” Colt snapped.


A weighted pause hung. Finally, Cam sighed. “Colt, man, it’s me. No bullshit between us, remember? I know you’ve got it bad for her. Probably have for years, huh? I just didn’t want you to be caught off guard. Thought maybe you prefer to clear out.”


Right then, Colt decided rather than let his imagination run wild about what Blake and Indy had done, he’d stay and learn what they were doing firsthand. “Thanks. I appreciate the warning, but I’ll stick around.”


“You sure that’s the smartest choice?”


“No. But depending on what happens with them…it’ll give me a reason to move on, either way. Time to fish or cut bait, know what I mean?”


“I hear ya. Just don’t do anything stupid that’ll bring me there in an official capacity tonight, okay?”


“Deal. And, uh, thanks.”


“No prob. Think you’ll feel up to working out this week?”


“As long as I ain’t sittin’ on a rowing machine, I oughta be good. Why? You ain’t thinkin’ of pussing out on me, are ya, matey?”


Cam laughed. “No chance, rummy. I can still whip your shot-up ass on the treadmill, even with a peg leg.”


“Bring it.” Colt hung up. He slowly rolled over and glanced at the clock. Roughly an hour before India closed up shop. Maybe if he was lucky he could get a little shut-eye.


The outer apartment door slammed ten minutes later, followed by the squeak of his door being opened. “Colt? You asleep?”


“Not any more.”


“Sorry. Look, I think you need to—”