Branded as Trouble by Lorelei James Read Free Book Online Page B

didn’t get a good look at his date’s face.
    Why does it matter what she looks like?
    It just did.
    When they performed the forward turn, India scrutinized her.
    The woman was tall. Sturdy. Blonde, with a wide smile that almost hid her horse face. She was maybe five or six years younger than Colt. She dressed in the style of a ranch woman, dark jeans, a brightly colored blouse dotted with geometric shapes and rhinestone snaps. Well-worn ropers the same turquoise as her shirt.
    Sad thing was, if Colt married her, local people would assume Colt had settled, especially in light of his reputation of preferring 60
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    Branded As Trouble
    good-looking, wild women—of which this prim and proper lady was neither.
    Oh, Ms. Horse Woman would pop out a couple of halfway cute kids, be the perfect FFA mom, she’d help Colt run the ranch at top efficiency. She’d…fit in, in ways India never would. It made India sick, because she figured Colt would be back on the booze within six months of committing his life to such a lackluster woman.
    Colt needed someone like India in his life.
    Right. He’ll be dropping on bended knee after you called him a dickhead.
    A fake smile creased Colt’s face as he danced the woman backward and the couple disappeared into the crowd.
    When the song finished, the lights clicked on and the auctioneer randomly selected prizes for bidding. First, a massage package donated by AJ McKay, of Healing Touch Massage, which earned a respectable bid of two hundred dollars. The band kicked off another song. As soon as it ended, the auctioneer took the stage.
    And so it went for three more tunes.
    Skylar’s basket sold for three hundred bucks. The private cooking lessons with Domini, head cook at Dewey’s Delish Dish, fetched fifteen hundred dollars from an anonymous bidder. Domini was clearly flustered by the attention, but extremely pleased.
    Buck placed the winning bid on the fly-fishing trip. He and Hayden waved to her as they claimed their prize and headed out.
    After a snappy rendition of “Oh Lonesome Me” the moment India dreaded arrived. She kept to the back of the room, hidden in the alcove by the drinking fountain.

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    Lorelei James
    The auctioneer snapped the paper in his hand. “Well, I’ll be.
    This is an interesting prize, a one of a kind tattoo, courtesy of India’s Ink. Who’ll start the bidding?”
    Silence.
    India wanted to throw up.
    “Come on, folks, this is for a good cause. Shall we start the bidding at one hundred dollars?”
    More silence.
    “How about fifty dollars?”
    She had to force her feet to stay in place and not run out the back door in sheer mortification.
    “I’ll give ya twenty,” some guy shouted from the front row and the whole room erupted into laughter.
    “Seriously, folks. Minimum bid is fifty dollars. Do I hear fifty dollars?”
    Then, “I’ll bid one thousand dollars.”
    A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
    The auctioneer pointed. “I have a bid of one thousand dollars.
    Going once. Going twice.” Crack . The gavel landed on the podium.
    “Sold to the artistically minded gentleman in the black hat, for the sum of one thousand dollars.”
    A smattering of applause broke out.
    And rather than rejoicing, India seethed.
    Colt McKay was a dead man.
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Chapter Six
    As India headed for the punch table, she formulated a plan of attack. She didn’t know whether to confront him here, or put the anger whammy on him when he least expected it. Her temper was a vile thing. Letting it fly was always a last resort, especially in public, since she usually picked up the nearest heavy object and let it fly too.
    Colt snatched the choice away when he snuck up behind her and drawled, “I didn’t think dances were your thing, India.”
    “You don’t know everything about me.” She whirled around.
    “Where’s your date?”
    “Where’s yours?” he countered.
    “I’m here by