Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders 6)

“No shit. I’ve been there, son. More than once, sad to say.

Didn’t know that about your old dad, didja?”

“No.”

“That’s because Caro’s pulled me up by the bootstraps every time I fell and covered my ass. ’Bout the time you rolled around, I’d gotten my ducks in a row, became the responsible man I needed to be. And ain’t it ironic that you were around that same age when you saw the writin’ on the wall?”

He took another drink.

“What I’m sayin’ is I’m proud of you, Colton. You’re a stronger man than I ever was. What you done, you done on your own. As much as I admire that, I wish it hadn’t played out that way.

I’m sorry. I wish I coulda been a bigger man and a better father and not let you deal with so much shit on your own.”

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. Be a man.

Fuck all if he wouldn’t shed a tear when he’d just gotten everything he’d ever wanted from the man he admired most in the world.

A gentle breeze wafted by, filled with the scents of sage and dirt, of horseflesh and water. Smells he’d always associate with home.

Colt didn’t look at his dad because he suspected the man wasn’t completely dry-eyed. He allowed a couple minutes to compose themselves before he cleared his throat. “Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear it as much as you needed to say it. We’re both livin’ proof that people can change. And it can stick.”

He kicked a clod of dirt. “Will you give us all another chance?

I figure, maybe it’s time we worked to earn your trust instead of the other way around.”

Colt didn’t mention his brothers had already come to that determination. “It’d be good for all of us to start fresh. It’s been a long time comin’.”

“Good. And if you wanna take a month off and go to Hawaii, then so be it. You’ve earned it.” His dad turned and smiled.

“’Course, part of me is hopin’ you’ll be there on your honeymoon with India. I like that little gal. She’s a spitfire. Gotta say, it takes real guts to confront mama bear Carolyn McKay about one of her cubs.”

“Or a deathwish,” Colt muttered. “What happened?”

“India said her piece. Caro said hers, something about India surpassing her expectations and being exactly the type of woman you needed. They both started cryin’ and carryin’ on and were best pals by the time I hightailed it outta there.” Carson stood and scratched his head. “Now I’m afraid I’m gonna come in from checkin’ cattle someday and hear my wife’s gone to town and gotten herself a tattoo.”

“Tattoos aren’t bad, but look out for the piercings.”

“Son, there’s just some stuff I don’t wanna know.”

Chapter Twenty-six

Colt unsaddled Laramie and brushed him down. He was dragging the packs to the back door when he saw her motorcycle parked in the driveway. He dropped everything and tore around the side of the house.

India sat on the steps, head in her hands, looking lost.

But she was here.

“Indy?”

Her head snapped up. “Colt!” She dropped the bundle in her hand, leapt to her feet and ran. Launched herself straight into his arms and peppered his face with kisses. “I missed you, you dickhead. I missed you so goddamn much. Don’t you ever ever ever take off and leave me like that again, do you hear me?”

He laughed. He laughed and swung her around until she started laughing too.

“Oh God, stop. I’m dizzy.”

“It’s okay. I gotcha.” He sat on the steps with India straddled on his lap. He picked up the bundle and it jingled. “What’s this?”

“A present. I realized I never did any romantic dating type crap for you. I didn’t bake you cookies, or surprise you with a picnic—”

“But the caramel incident counts as romantic. So does the whipped cream. And you showin’ up buck-assed nekkid except for a pair of boots counts as the height of romantic behavior.”

“Yeah? Anyway, I wanted to give you something tangible, so I brought you a bag of tokens from the pizza place in Moorcroft where we had our first date.”

“As a token of your affection?”

“Pretty pun-tastic, huh?” She gave him a small head butt. “See?

I knew you’d get it. You know me so well, Colt. Better than anyone ever has.”

“Same goes. So you have to know my meeting with Ginger Paulson—”

India put her fingers over his lips. “You don’t have to explain. I was a jerk. I trust you. Period.”

He nipped her fingertips. “I’m gonna tell you anyway. Her son Hayden is Buck’s little buddy. Hayden wanted to do something special for Buck, and Ginger thought I could give them some ideas.”

“That’s all?”

“Yep. So now—”

“Now you need to listen,” India blurted. “First, I’m sorry. For not defending you, for acting like a lump of shit when Cat spewed all those horrible things about you. I lashed out at you when I should’ve lashed out at her. It’ll never happen again and I’ll beat the living shit out of anyone who casts doubts on your character.”

“Including my mother?”

India snorted. “She’s not afraid to come out swinging, that’s for damn sure. But then again, neither am I. It surprised her that I’d fight for you.”

“That’s a little extreme, but apology accepted.”

“Second, it was a cheap shot, questioning your commitment to sobriety after our fight. I should be your safe harbor, not the crashing waves dragging you down.” India fiddled with the button on his shirt. “I’m the one who had doubts about whether I could hold it together after you left. I, ah, had to call Bert.”

“Ah Indy.” He rested his forehead to hers. “You okay?”

“Now? Yeah. Then? No. I was a mess. I needed help. I wasn’t too proud to ask for it. That…feeling had been building for a while and I ignored it. So the near relapse reminded me I’d gotten cocky. I thought I had addiction whupped, but I don’t. I never will.”

Colt knew no matter what his dad thought about Colt being strong enough to fight his addictions on his own, he never would’ve made it this far if it hadn’t been for India. And he was good with that.

“Lastly, the reason I asked for space was because it freaked me out when I realized we had unprotected sex more than once at my most fertile time. Making that chart gave me a plan of attack so I was fully prepared for if we dodged the baby bullet.”