Branded as Trouble (5 page)

“By choice?”

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? “I hardly remember the last time I had sex. I was drunk. Or high. Or both. So 44

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Branded As Trouble

I guess you can say I hardly remember what sex is like or what I’m supposed to do besides come in my pants like a teenage boy.”

“Why haven’t you talked about this at meetings?”

“Because it’s not anyone’s goddamned business but mine.”

“Okay. But you could’ve talked to me. One on one. We’re friends.”

Colt laughed again, but it held a bitter edge.

“That wasn’t meant to be funny!”

“Which is why it is.” He grabbed the plastic grocery bag that held his toothbrush, iPod, extra clothes and started downstairs.

“You’re just leaving?”

Was that a regretful note in her voice? He didn’t turn around until he reached the landing at the bottom. “Do you want me to stay and finish what we started?”

India actually backed up a step. A look of surprise—or was it horror?—crossed her face.

Enough. Her expression told him everything he needed to know: it was time for him to move on, much as it pained him.

“But you could stay and we could talk about it.”

“Nothin’ left to say. See you around.”

Halfway home Colt realized he never did get a cup of coffee.

That harsh dose of reality had been enough to kick start his day.

Thursday evening in the gym, Colt and Cam were sweating and grunting, trying to outdo each other. The best five-mile running time www.samhainpublishing.com 45

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went to Colt, but he admitted there was little victory in beating a man with half his leg gone.

Cam out bench-pressed Colt by almost fifty pounds. Their sets of crunches were declared a tie, by the Kewpie-doll manning the desk, who couldn’t keep her jailbait eyes off either of them.

As was their post-workout ritual, they’d toweled off and sat on the wooden bench in the locker room. Colt downed half his water bottle in one gulp. “So, anything interesting happen in the world of law enforcement today?”

“Nope. How about in the world of the McKay gas baron?”

“Fuck you. No one’s ever gonna let me live that down.”

“Why would you want to? Christ, Colt, you’re the one makin’

the rest of ’em look dumb.”

Colt mopped the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, well it was pretty much dumb luck.”

Years ago Colt had purchased a small tract of land from a little old ranch widow. At the time it’d taken all his money and some fancy talking to the banker to fund what his family called his “pity”

venture. He figured he’d hold onto the acreage and figure out if improvements would make it suitable for grazing, if not, he’d sell it.

A few years passed and a surveyor approached him about testing for methane gas. Colt agreed only because it cost him nothing and he’d managed to retain all mineral rights from the original seller, that sweet old lady, who’d since passed away.

The surveyor made a startling discovery. Methane gas, in a place where methane gas was not supposed to be. So Colt signed off 46

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Branded As Trouble

for a hefty chunk of the profits, and let the company set up a drilling site.

They hit Wyoming gold.

After his initial bragging about his cash windfall, and faced with his family’s resentment that the land wasn’t part of the McKay Ranch, hence they got no cut of the profits, he’d taken great pains to downplay his income. Within six years of purchasing the crappy land no one had wanted, Colt earned enough money to survive on his own without his portion of the McKay Ranch or the earnings from it.

Round about that time, his brother Colby returned to Wyoming after a rodeo career-ending injury. At first, Colt was excited to have his brother back helping with the ranch. But that excitement dimmed when their father gave Colby a large chunk of the responsibilities that’d belonged to Colt.

Rather than see it as an easing of his workload, Colt saw it as an indictment of his abilities. He began to spend more time in the local honky-tonks. Drinking, chasing women, trying to build a reputation to rival his brother’s and cousin’s.

It worked, but not in a good way. Colt couldn’t remember exactly when things had spiraled out of control. The year between his younger brother Carter’s wedding, and his cousin Dag’s death, Colt had alienated his family. He worked on the ranch when he felt like it, because he didn’t need the money or the hassle. He drank, started doing drugs, and slept with whoever offered.

What did his loving brothers do when he’d started that downward spiral? Not a damn thing. Part of him wondered if they www.samhainpublishing.com 47

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wanted him to die—because he was worth far more to them dead than alive.

The weight machine clanged in the other room, drawing his attention back to Cam who was saying, “…ain’t been in town.”

“Sorry. I spaced out. What’d you say?”

“Wondered what was keeping you busy at your place because you ain’t been in town all week.” Cam wiped the sweat dotting his neck. “India mentioned you missed the Tuesday night meeting.”

Unreal. He’d been sober three years and missed one meeting in the last two and a half. “And here I thought that was supposed to be confidential information.”

“It is. She told me you’re not returning her phone calls.”

“So? She ain’t my keeper.”

“She’s worried about you.”

“She drop any hints on whether you knew if I’d fallen off the wagon or not?”

“Nope.”

“That’s good. Where’d you see her? At the diner?”

“I haven’t been in the diner since Friday night.”

“Why? They stop givin’ law enforcement officers free coffee or something?”

“Or something,” Cam muttered.

“What’s up?”

Cam braced his elbows on his knees and pointed his face to the floor. “Evidently Domini saw me giving Doc Monroe a ride home Friday night after your unplanned piercing. The arctic princess blasts me with an icy glare if I so much as step foot on the welcome 48

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mat in Dewey’s. Then she starts cursing at me in Ukrainian and stomps off.”

“Huh. I didn’t realize you and Domini were datin’.”

“That’s the thing; we’re not. I’m not dating the good doc either.

She and I are just friends.”

“So Domini is jealous?”

“Hell if I know. Meantime, I’ve been forced to drink the black sludge from the Conoco station.”

Colt fiddled with the cap on his water bottle. “You could remedy the jealousy situation and ask Domini out.”

Cam laughed. “Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“What about her has you runnin’ scared?”

“Everything. She deserves better than half a man.”

Colt widened his eyes in mock shock. “Did part of your dick get shot off at the same time as your leg and your hand?”

The look on Cam’s face was hilarious. “No!”

“Then you ain’t half a man.”

“What do I have to offer her? A soft, sweet, beautiful girl like her don’t wanna get mixed up with a fucked-up man like me, guaranteed.” The plastic bottle crumpled in his big hand. “I have dark edges she couldn’t handle.”

“Don’t we all?”

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

“You want me to ask Domini out?”

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“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 fucking 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 50

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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.

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“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—”

Dammit. Should she have said
hard-on
? Should she have said
blowing
? Shit shit shit. Think back. Did she say
come
? Or
get off
?

At any point?

Branded As Trouble

“
Beep
. End of message.”

“Fuck!” Infuriated, she pressed redial. This time she was ready for the beep.

“Quit being such a dickhead, McKay. Call me.” She snapped the phone shut. Hah! That’ll get his attention.

But hours passed and still no word from Colt.

India crawled in bed and stared at the shimmery silver canopy.

For the hundredth time, she wondered how everything had spun out of control. Sure, she understood his anger at her accidentally shooting him in the butt and his frustration at being stuck in her apartment. India even understood him being pissed off about her going out on a date with his cousin and how he could’ve jumped to conclusions when Blake was hammering her headboard with such vigor.

What she couldn’t understand? Why sexy-as-sin, charm-the-panties-off-any-woman-with-a-pulse Colt McKay hadn’t gotten laid in three years. That boggled her mind.

The McKay men were all notoriously good-looking. Every.

Single. One. Since her sister, Skylar, was married to one of those hunky McKay men, and those cowboy beefcakes congregated on a regular basis, India had plenty of room to judge. In her eyes, Colt was the best looking of all of them. Period.

Not only was Colt a shining example of masculinity, he was sweet. Smart too, but he preferred to hide his brainpower under beguiling smiles and cajoling words. He was fun to be around, thoughtful, insightful…so it made zero sense he wasn’t getting any.

Neither are you.

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And when had smokin’ hot bad cowboy Colt started leveling his intense I-wanna-fuck-you-now stare…on her? And using a seductive masculine growl instead of words?

Why wasn’t she put off by the changes?

Because it seems right. Natural. And about goddamn time.

India closed her eyes and relived the brief interlude in the kitchen. Her hand rubbing on his cock empowered her. She never remembered feeling such a thrill at a man’s loss of control. Wanting to see how he could take control of her. To see how far he could push her before she lost it.

Hell, she’d been tempted to drag him into her bedroom and see how wild they could be together. But she’d backed off. Partially out of guilt for his injury, partially out of self-preservation, fearing a spontaneous tumble would irreparably damage their friendship—a friendship she valued above all others.

And look what that self-preservation had gotten her…the man had cut off all communication anyway. She could’ve had a mind-bending orgasm or twenty and ended up with the same result.

Frustrated, India covered her head with a pillow and tried to sleep. She’d definitely get in touch with him tomorrow.

***

India hadn’t seen or talked to Colt for six days, which sucked, but not as bad as the impending humiliation sucked. She sighed.

Loudly.

“Stop it,” Domini said.

“But I don’t want to go to this stupid dance.”

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“Tough. You are always making me do things I don’t want to do.”

India cocked an eyebrow at her. “Like what?”

“Things.” Domini waved her off distractedly. “Anyway, you have to put in an appearance. This is a fundraiser for the community and you need to show your support.”