Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(9)

She kept her mulish mouth shut.


“Watchin’ movies or playin’ cards or cooking dinner. So yeah, maybe I am interested in what kind of fun and games this guy has offered you that I haven’t.”


India glared at him.


“I’m waitin’.”


“Fine. He’s cooking me dinner and then we’re watching a movie at his place.”


He grinned even when he considered what a rat bastard his cousin Blake was and how much he’d like to kick his ass.


“Oh, wipe that smile off your face, McKay. You said there were two reasons. What’s the other reason you’re being so damn snoopy about my personal life?”


“You think I’m snoopy?”


“Either that or you’re living vicariously through me.”


Colt opened his mouth to protest, then clamped his teeth together, choosing to glower at her.


“What’s the matter? Did I hit too close to home?”


“Forget it.”


She stalked closer. “No. You thought it was so damn funny that a man would actually want to spend time with me—”


“What exactly have I been doin’ with you every weekend for the last two and a half years, huh?” Besides spinning my wheels?


“Spending time with me, but it’s not the same thing.”


“Why not?”


“Because we are not dating.” She lifted both pierced eyebrows, drawing his attention to the sexy silver hoops. “Omigod, Colt. All this time, you haven’t thought we were—”


“No, I ain’t that stupid,” he retorted. “I just find it ironic that after you shot me in the ass, and I’m layin’ here in your house, in pain, you’ve got no problem leavin’ me here while you’re flitting off to go on a damn date.”


India did her trout impression again.


Jesus. Way to sound like a needy, bitter bastard, McKay.


“Look, I didn’t think—”


“No, you didn’t think, which is typical behavior for you, Miz Impulsive, so I’m not surprised.”


“Colt—”


“Just go. I’m tired.” Colt shut his eyes and rolled to his side, giving her his back.


“But…”


“Just go,” he repeated. “Shut the door on your way out. Oh, and have a freakin’ awesome time on your date.”


He heard her shallow breathing as she debated on berating him or leaving him.


Guess which one she chose?


The door snicked softly as she let herself out.


Colt felt neither vindicated nor relieved.


Damn him. Her first real date in forever and Colt McKay had sucked all the fun out of it before she’d even left the house.



India threw the hairbrush in the sink. She snatched the gel from the cabinet and squirted the orange goo in her palms, rubbing it vigorously into her hair. Bah. It didn’t help. She still looked like a porcupine who’d lost a fight with a weed whacker. Plus, she needed to recolor the tips. The fuchsia was fading into a hideous bubblegum pink.


What the hell did it matter what her hair looked like? It wasn’t like they were going to be in public.


She froze. Was that why Blake wanted to cook for her at his place? Because the colorful tats and piercings were what most folks noticed and he was embarrassed by it?