Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders 6)

“Good. I wanted to take you someplace neither one of us have been for our first date.”

“You’re determined we’re really gonna do this dating thing?”

“Yep.”

“Have I mentioned I suck at dating?”

“But, you haven’t dated me.”

“I’ve known you for three years. What’s so different about dating you?”

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

“Then no way do I want to date you, McKay.”

“I’ll be a gentleman for two weeks, then all bets are off.”

“If I refuse?”

“Too late. You already agreed to my terms.”

“I was under duress.”

“Good to know my kisses fluster you that much.” He smooched her nose. “Let’s go.”

The Pizza Barn didn’t exactly drip romance. The square table was standard, covered with a red and white checked tablecloth.

Plastic flowers jammed in a Perrier bottle coated with dripped wax was centered between a shaker of Parmesan cheese and crushed hot peppers.

“Do you know what you want?”

India batted her lashes and cooed, “Guess.”

When the waitress came by, Colt offered India a smug smile and recited their usual pizza order. “A large pepperoni with green olives and two mugs of rootbeer.”

After she’d dropped off their drinks, she’d warned them it’d take at least an hour to get their pizza. India said, “Why do you think the wait is so long? There’s hardly anyone in here.”

“Because they want customers blowing tokens in the arcade.

Which is a great idea.” He scooted out of the booth. “Come on, let’s check out the games.”

Colt dragged her to the arcade and bought twenty bucks worth of tokens. She watched as he played every game from simulated golf to shooting hoops. Damn man made every shot. He was probably a helluva basketball player in his day.

When he hopped into a virtual NASCAR machine, complete with padded seat, steering wheel, goggles and gearshift, she allowed a weary sigh to escape.

“Don’t you wanna play?” Colt indicated the empty machine next to his. “Or are you afraid I’ll beat you?”

“I know you’ll beat me,” she retorted as she slid into the seat.

“I suck at this kind of stuff.”

“Didn’t you play video games in high school?”

“Not really. Unless you count the time my boyfriend dragged me out of the fall festival and down the street so he could challenge the high score on Pac-Man at Burger King.”

“Seriously?”

She crossed her hand over her heart. “No kidding. I never fully recovered.”

“I’ll bet the game was the only place he scored that night.”

“You got that right.” Well, they’d scored some premium grass right after that, but it wasn’t something she wanted to confess to Colt. She blew out an impatient breath after struggling with the mass of wires attached to the goggles.

“Here, lemme help you.” Colt brushed her hair from her face; his touch lingered on the curve of her neck. India held perfectly still, hoping he’d kiss her. But he only eased the helmet on with a friendly pat on her helmeted head. “Ready?”

“No.”

He dropped four tokens in the slots anyway. The racetrack roared to life inside her goggles and she was lost to everything but the thrill of the chase.

It wasn’t much of a contest. Colt won every game. Evidently gentlemanly behavior didn’t include allowing your date to win even one race.

India ripped off the goggles with mock disgust. “I give. Now can we play a game that I might have a chance at beating you?”

“Like what?”

She spied the skee-ball racks in the corner and grabbed his hand. “Like that one.”

“Sugar, have you ever played?”

“No. But how hard can it be? Bowling with croquet balls?” She preened a bit. “I rock at croquet. Bet I can kick your butt.”

“What are you willin’ to bet?”

“That’s just an expression Colt, don’t be so literal.”

His answering chuckle was low and sexy. “Just as I suspected.”

“What?”

“You ain’t willin’ to put your money where your sexy mouth is.”

He thought she had a sexy mouth? “And you are?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, Mr. Moneybags, you’re on.”

“Name your bet.”

“One dollar.”

“Nope.”

“Fine . Two dollars.”

He shook his head. “Not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“How about a kiss?”

Her midsection tightened and blood rushed into all the places blood wasn’t supposed to rush on a first date. “Three dollars?”

“A slow kiss,” he said, acting like he hadn’t heard her.

“Five bucks.”

He erased the gap between them, forcing her to meet his twinkling eyes. “One slow, deep, wet, kiss, for as long as I want.

That’s my final offer.”

“Do I get to pick where you kiss me, slow and long and deep?”

“Ornery woman. You’re hell on my intention of bein’ a gentleman.”

“If I preferred a gentleman, I’d be dating your cousin Blake.”

Shit. That was the wrong thing to say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Think? Yeah, I get that a lot from you. Just forget it.” He scowled, shoving a hand through his hair. “Let’s just play the damn game and have some damn fun.”

For the next ten minutes, India watched him from the corner of her eye. Didn’t seem like he was having fun. At all . He cursed every time the ball landed in the lowly five-point hole, which was a lot.

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?