Finders Keepers (11 page)

When the water finally burst out of the shower head, I realized
how wrong Mrs. Gibson had been. The water wasn’t cold. Not even close.

No, it was fucking glacial.

I had to clamp my mouth closed to ensure I wouldn’t let out
some sort of hoot, holler, or curse. Once I was certain of that, all there was
left to do was wrap my arms around my chest and curl up as tight as I could and
wait it out. So much for saving me from the freezing cold. Josie had simply
removed the threat of one form and replaced it with one that was twice as
severe.

“Do you know what time Garth will be arriving?” The oozing
excitement in Mrs. Gibson’s voice as she talked about Mason? There wasn’t a
scrap of it left when she mentioned me.

“Um . . . later?”

Killer answer, Joze. Killer.

Mrs. Gibson let out a familiar sigh. I knew where Josie had
learned hers. “I know you and Garth go way back, but you know how your father
and I feel about that boy.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Josie said. The strength in her voice that I
was used to was back in place. “And you know how I feel about you two feeling
that way about him. All your opinions about him are due to rumors and hearsay.”

I was drenched in freezing cold water that was slowly
numbing every square inch of my skin, but in that moment, I felt nothing but
warmth. Josie standing up for me brought a strange mix of emotions. All of them
good.

“They aren’t rumors when I’m friends with the mothers whose
daughters have had their hearts crushed and reputations ruined by that boy.
It’s not hearsay when I’ve seen him drinking straight out of the bottle at ten
o’clock in the morning.” Mrs. Gibson was working herself up. I could almost
imagine her meticulously styled hair standing on end. “Don’t let your
friendship with him blind you to the person he is. That’s not the kind of man
your father or me want you hanging around. We’re not letting him move in
because he’s ever proven himself to us. We’re letting him move in because
you’ve
proven yourself to us. You’ve proven capable of making good choices for
yourself, and as long as you keep up that pattern, Dad and me will continue to
let you do your thing. Even if that includes inviting Garth Black to be a
houseguest.” There was some rustling—what I imagined was Mrs. Gibson hugging
Josie—before her heels clacked toward the door.

“Just give him a chance, okay? Once you get to know him, you’ll
see how wrong you are. There’s more to Garth Black than everyone thinks. Way
more.”

“We’ll see,” Mrs. Gibson answered before clicking the door
closed.

A second hadn’t passed before Josie threw open the shower
curtain and inspected me like she was worried I’d stopped breathing. She
reached for the shower lever.

“No, don’t,” I whispered in case Mrs. Gibson was within
earshot. “It’s finally starting to get warm.”

Josie tested the shower water with her hand. “So? How bad
are you?” Her forehead lined as she kneeled beside the tub.

“On a scale of cold to hypothermic . . .” I slid off my hat
and tossed it out onto the floor. It was already soaked, so I don’t know why I
bothered. “I’m a popsicle.” I worked a smile into place and almost groaned as
the water continued to heat. I broke out in goose bumps it felt so good.

“God, Garth. I’m so sorry.” Josie tested the water again and
adjusted the dial.

“It’s just a little bit of cold water. No big deal,” I
understated. If I was asked to choose between getting thrown from a bull a
dozen times in one night or sitting through another five minutes of glacial
shower water pelting me while I had to lay immobile and take it, I’d take the
bull without a moment’s thought. I wasn’t sure if that made me a badass or a
baby. Wasn’t sure if I wanted the answer to that either.

“Not that. Although I am sorry about the water, too.” The
sleeves of Josie’s bathrobe were getting wet, so she slipped out of it. Leaving
on nothing but the pajamas that had the man stamp of approval all over them.
“I’m sorry for the things she said. Those weren’t fair things to say, and they
were hurtful, too. I wish you hadn’t heard any of that.”

Josie was right. The things her mom said were hurtful, but
that’s not what I’d focused on. The thing I took away from that mother-daughter
conversation was the way Josie had stuck up for me. I hadn’t asked her to; I
never had and never would. She’d stuck up for me simply because she
chose
to.
Just thinking about it brought the same tsunami of emotions I’d felt minutes ago.
All of those good ones that were so foreign I couldn’t name them.

“Sure, what your mom said might have hurt my feelings,
Joze.” She lifted an eyebrow. “And you’d better not tell anyone that I have
any. Feelings, that is . . . But what she said wasn’t anything I haven’t heard
before. What she said was fair because—even though I might try to dismiss it
and you might try to soften it—it’s the truth. I’m not the kind of guy parents
want their daughters hanging around. I have ruined plenty of reputations. I don’t
think twice about getting rip-roaring drunk on a Sunday morning. I’m that guy.
You know it, and I sure as hell do, too.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “Your point being?”

I sat up to look her straight on. “I know who I am. I’m not
ashamed of that person.
Most
days.” I gave her a twisted smile. “I don’t
want you to be ashamed of the person I am either. You don’t have to try to
paint me as the misunderstood good guy to everyone and their dog.”

Her face broke for a moment, but it cleared, another moment
later and then Josie did something I wasn’t expecting. She crawled over the
side of the tub, closed the shower curtain, and tried to squeeze next to me.
When that didn’t work, she spread out over me. The shower had her clothes and
hair soaked in about ten seconds, and if her expression wasn’t so serious, I
probably would have laughed at the two taking a shower fully clothed. Or I
would have been kissing her, sucking every last drop of water from her lips.

“I’m not ashamed of you. I never have been, and I never will
be,” she said as her fingers skimmed my forehead, sliding my hair to the side.
The touch was intimate without being the kind of “intimate” I was used to. I’d
gotten a lot of those innocent intimate touches from Josie lately. “The only
reason I paint you as the misunderstood good guy is because that’s who you are.
You’re the guy who shows up on his friend’s doorstep in the middle of the night
if they call. You’re the guy who is one of the first guys at work in the
morning and one of the last to leave. You’re the guy who played Cupid when his
best friend almost lost the woman he loved. You’re the guy who would give your
kidney to a homeless three-legged dog if it needed one. You’re
that
guy,
Garth. You know it. And I’ve known it for a hell of a lot longer.”

A woman could render a man speechless one way, a way I was
exceptionally familiar with . . . And there was that way. The things Josie had
just said, the conviction in the words and her eyes . . . It was all a bit
overwhelming. Especially as we shared a shower with her sprawled out on top of
me. I wanted to give what she’d said more thought, but that was next to
impossible when our bodies were perfectly aligned. Save for a couple pieces of
clothing, I was one hip rock away from . . .

Shit. All my attempts to hide that I was turned on went out
the window with that vivid thought. I knew that, given Josie’s position, she
knew. That she knew I was turned on and hard and still didn’t get up to leave
in a fit of disgust made me wonder why she was hanging around. That question,
of course, led to the next . . . Why had Josie hung around my whole life? Why
hadn’t she left me in the rearview like so many people before her? Why was she
staring at me with that look in her eyes, almost like she wanted me to . . .
kiss
her?

I knew that look—that expectant, lidded-eye, flushed-cheek
look. I was a pro at creating it and identifying it because that was my
so-called gateway. If I could get a woman to look at me that way—to want me to
kiss her—I could get her to go along for the rest of the ride, too. It had
worked without exception, and I knew that if I kissed Josie, the same would
probably happen. Especially when both of our bodies were responding to each
other.

I couldn’t do that to Josie. Not again. She might have forgiven
me for the first time I let my body take the steering wheel with her, but she
wouldn’t if I gave in a second time. I sure as hell hadn’t forgiven myself for
the first time, so if I did what I wanted to then, I would probably wake up
tomorrow crushed by guilt.

So instead of coaxing her mouth to mine and sliding my hands
down her body like they were twitching to do, I exhaled and forced that twisted
smile of mine into position. That smile, with that gleam in my eyes, gave off
the cool and removed vibe. The one I was notorious for. The one I knew Josie
could see through, but the only one I could rely on to keep me from giving into
what my body wanted. One part of me hoped she’d slap me for using a façade and
march out of there, and the other part of me hoped she’d call bullshit and drop
her mouth to mine and leave it there. Again, the two consciousnesses were at
war with one another. “Did you just say all of that because you feel bad for
the ice shower you gave me?”

“No, Garth. You and I both know you haven’t taken enough
cold showers in your life when you should have.” She smiled at me, combing my
hair with her fingers. “I said those things because they’re true. As much as I
know you’d rather me accept the lie most of the time. But I don’t want to. Not anymore.
I’m done lying to myself.”

Her face inched closer to mine, and the water dripping from
her lips fell right onto mine. My heart couldn’t take much more. The rest of my
body couldn’t either. Josie’s other hand ran up my side, stopping on my chest.
It was like a rare form of torture. The woman of my dreams was able to touch
me, but I couldn’t touch her back because once I did, both of our lives would
be ruined. One touch, and we were as good as dead. I closed my eyes and tried
to compose my thoughts. When Josie’s body slid down a bit, then back up,
applying pressure in all the right places, composing anything was history.

My god, that woman would be the death of me.

A LOT CAN change in twenty-four
hours. A whole life can change.

While mine hadn’t changed totally and completely, it had
changed significantly from the night before. I had a warm bed and house to
sleep in for starters, but that wasn’t all. The rest of me felt like it was
also changing . . . shifting. Ideas were forming, beliefs being questioned,
convictions being challenged. I was in a state of flux, and the catalyst for it
all was Josie. She’d been the catalyst for a lot of things.

After slipping out of the Gibsons’ undetected, Josie drove
me back to my truck so I could head over to Willow Springs. She was silent the
whole ride there. Not like she was fuming in an enraged silence, or festering
in a shamed one, but peaceful in a contemplative one. She’d only broken her
silence to say good-bye, and that was the one word I didn’t want to hear from
Josie Gibson, despite knowing it was the healthiest word she could say to me.

I put in a half day at Willow Springs helping Neil and the
guys get the herd watered and fed. That was about all we could get done because
the temperatures weren’t lifting. He and Rose both caught me before I left for
the day to let me know I was always welcome—more than welcome—to stay in the
bunkhouse. That’s why it was there. I respectfully declined, and they didn’t
push the matter. I liked the Walkers a lot. They’d always been generous in a
way that didn’t feel like they were shoving their generosity down my throat. It
was a quality I could appreciate.

When it was time to head over to the Gibsons’ for dinner and
my “official” move in, I couldn’t seem to get there fast enough. I was eager to
get to a place where two people were the opposite of eager to see me, and
another person was basically my sworn enemy. I must have been really excited to
see the one other person left. After that morning in the shower, I realized Josie
harbored some kind of feelings for me. Whether it was strictly animal desire or
something else, I wasn’t picky. Josie could have whatever kind of connection
she felt for me. That made me even more conflicted. I’d turned into a giant
ball of questions and conflicts and desires. I’d pretty much become my biggest
nightmare. I was a rougher version of Jesse Walker. But a better looking one. A
far
better looking one.

As I pulled up to the Gibsons’ place, I decided to give all
of those questions a rest. Hopefully after a couple days of ignoring them, some
answers would magically appear. Yes, I knew that was a whole lot of wishful,
naive thinking, but any options were better than no options. Obviously nothing
I’d done to try to work them out had succeeded, so ignoring them was as good a
solution as any.

Colt’s truck was already there, gleaming without a spot on
it. People bought trucks for their function. Or at least most people did. Colt
didn’t group into that “most people” category. He was one of the jackasses who
bought a truck because he wanted the truck to label him, not the other way
around. It didn’t have a scratch on it, and I’d be willing to bet my left ball
that he’d never even hauled anything in the bed. I loved my truck and all, but
the thing was beat to shit. It was a truck. Beat to shit came with the
territory.

As I passed Colt’s truck, I resisted the urge to kick the
tires. The damn thing wasn’t even made in the U.S. Either because of the cold
or who was waiting inside for me, I kept my kicks to myself and hurried up to
the front door. I was just raising my hand to knock when the door opened.

“You came.” There was a faint smile on Josie’s lips.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” I stepped inside and shut the
door. For the moment, Josie and I were alone, but I heard three other voices
coming from the dining room.

“Yeah, but there have been plenty of times when you’ve said
one thing and done the other. Especially when you start getting . . . close to
someone. Or they start getting close to you.” Josie’s eyes flicked toward the
kitchen when a round of laughter came from it, and I was able to notice other
things. Like what she was wearing.

“Damn, Josie. Are you trying to kill me?”

She glanced back my way. “Not particularly right now. Why?”

I didn’t even try to stop staring. It would have been a
wasted effort. “Because that dress is enough to give a man a heart attack if
you come any closer, or break a man’s heart if you walk away.”

“Now lines like that help me understand why you’ve got a
reputation for being such a ladies man.”

“That wasn’t even my best one.” I slid out of my coat and
hung it up on the coatrack while staring at her. I wasn’t a dress expert, other
than taking them off, so I wasn’t sure how to classify hers. It was the
prettiest shade of blue I’d ever seen, and it hugged every line and curve I’d
had pressed against me that morning. That kind of dress could bring a man to
his knee to propose, even if that had been the furthest thing from his mind
when he woke up that morning. Hell, it was bringing me close to a proposal, and
I was dead set against anything marriage related.

“No? What is your best one then?” She leaned into the wall,
obviously not in a hurry to get back to the others. If she wasn’t in a hurry, I
wasn’t either.

“My best line?”

“Your best,
best
line. I want to hear it. Give me the
one line that would blow me away and make me a slave to your every want and
whim.”

Talking about slaves and wants and whims with Josie that
close to me made me feel like my heart was about to burst through my ribcage.
It also made me feel like something was going to burst out of my zipper.
“Sorry, no can do. It’s way too early in the night to start talking about my
wants and whims. Plus, your innocent ears would never be the same.”

“I’ve known you since we were five. I think my ears stopped
being innocent by the time I was five and a half.” She gave me a wry smile and
crossed her arms.

“Oh, well in that case . . .” I waited until I was sure I’d
created enough dramatic pause that Josie was close to snapping in anticipation.
“Sorry, Joze. No best line ever tonight. You couldn’t handle it.”

“I think I can handle one little line from you. I’ve handled
a lot more from you.”

“Fine.
I
couldn’t handle it. Now, can we change the
subject?”

“What would you like to change the subject to?” She stepped
toward me. I would have stepped back if I wasn’t already backed into a corner.
Literally and figuratively.

“How about me admitting I was an ass this morning and
apologizing? I’m sorry for how far things went.” For me, making apologies ranked
up there with having a bull come down on my foot. But with Josie, it was ten
times easier. Possibly a hundred times. It wasn’t even painful.

“Are you really? Sorry for how far things went? Because I
recall things going way farther between us before and never receiving an
apology for that.”

Ouch. Josie was bringing it. I’d come in prepared to trade
spars with Colt Mason—I was ready for his brand of shit. I had not come
prepared to talk about
that
with Josie. “You’re right. I never
apologized to you for that, but it was for a good reason.”

“And what would that good reason be?”

She was waiting for an answer, but all I could think about
that night and the dress she had on right then and how I couldn’t apologize
because . . . “Because I wasn’t sorry it happened.”

Yeah, I hadn’t exactly planned on that coming out. After it
did, I saw exactly why I’d wanted to keep it to myself. Josie sucked in a tiny
breath of surprise before her whole face smoothed out. Those eyes wouldn’t stop
staring into mine like she could see everything I wanted and needed to keep to
myself. Then she grabbed my hand and lifted it to her cheek. I was a man who,
right then, was a slave to
her
every whim and wish.

“I’m not sorry it happened either.”

I wasn’t sure what was more confusing—that Josie was
touching me when the boy she’d been dating for months was a few rooms away or
that she’d just said that. She wasn’t sorry for what had happened between us?
That was hard to believe.
Impossible
to believe. But she’d said it. At
least a dozen questions were on the tip of my tongue. One was just about to
come out when a pair of familiar-sounding heels clacked our way.

“Josie? Was that Garth who pulled up in the driveway?”

I pulled my hand away from Josie’s cheek, and she took a few
steps backward, smoothing her dress and expression. “Yeah, he’s here.”

“Then what in the world is taking you so long? You have
company waiting for you.”

Josie’s glanced over at me. “We were just saying hey.”

My brows came together. I didn’t realize what we’d said and
done qualified as a
hey
, but at least the girl was getting better at the
whole parental evasion thing.

“Well can’t you say hey in the kitchen? I think Colt’s
starting to wonder if you’ve run off to Vegas.” The instant Mrs. Gibson’s eyes
fell on me, her mouth turned down and she exhaled. “Hello, Garth. It’s good to
see you again. It’s been a while.” Mrs. Gibson had the robot voice down pat.

I tipped my hat and shoved off the wall. “I’m sorry that ‘a
while’ couldn’t have been a bit longer, but your daughter’s convinced I can’t
survive a night on my own, let alone the whole winter.” Josie received a
sideways look from her mom. “Thank you for offering to let me stay a few
nights. I really appreciate it.” Just because I’d heard exactly how Mrs. Gibson
felt about me earlier didn’t mean I couldn’t muster up some old-fashioned
respect and mind my Ps and Qs.

“A few days? Garth, you can stay as long as you want. It’s
going to take you more than a few days to find a place of your own,” Josie
said, crossing her arms.

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t know. I’m sure if Garth puts his mind
to it, he can do anything. Isn’t that right, Garth?”

If only Mrs. Gibson knew the things I’d put my mind to . . .
“That’s right. You never know, Joze, I might go and surprise the hell out of
you.” Mrs. Gibson cleared of her throat loudly. Oh, yeah. It had been a while
since I’d been in the Gibsons’ home. “Sorry, ma’am. I meant . . . I might go
and surprise the heaven out of you.”

Josie pursed her lips to keep from laughing while Mrs.
Gibson looked more to be holding back from strangling me. Josie said, “Why
don’t we head into the kitchen before I tell you to get out and go to heaven?”
We laughed, turning Mrs. Gibson a special shade of red. She practically marched
back into the dining room.

Walking beside Josie toward the dining room, I nudged her.
“Go to heaven? Really, Joze? That was pathetic. That was like kindergarten
quality comedy right there.”

“It got a laugh out of you, didn’t it?” She nudged me
back—with her elbow into my ribs. That “nudge” was a Josie favorite.

“A pity laugh, Gibson.”

“Nice try. You were in stitches back there. Rolling from
your laughter.”

“I’ll show you rolling in laughter.” I pinched her side, and
when she tried to slide away, I slid with her and kept pinching until she was
an inch from rolling.

Mrs. Gibson did her best to ignore us, but when we made it
into the dining room, the others definitely weren’t ignoring us. I dropped my
hand, but I stayed where I was. Right beside her. That pissed Colt Mason off
more than any other opening jab I could have thrown at him. Mr. Gibson and Colt
stood up from the table, their eyes narrowing on me. So one person wanted me
there. The rest, not so much.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Gibson.”

He shook his head. “Since you’re going to be staying with us
for a while, why don’t you cut the bullshit now, Garth? I know you’re about as
excited to see me as I am to see you.” I tipped my head in agreement. “Good.
Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s enjoy dinner.”

“Daddy, no. We do
not
have that out of the way.” It
was good to know Josie didn’t use that tone only on me. “You promised you would
be fair and not act like a caveman. You promised to give Garth a chance, and
you saying your hellos that way is not giving him a chance.” Josie grabbed my
arm and tugged me toward the table. I went along because . . . well, where else
would I go when Josie was pulling me forward? “You are going to shake his hand
and try it again.”

Mr. Gibson shifted, not making eye contact with Josie. It
was also good to know I wasn’t the only male she could make uncomfortable and
ashamed at the same time. Once we were a few feet in front of Mr. Gibson, Josie
stopped and moved aside like she was playing referee. She pretty much was.

“Well?” She gave me a look and then her dad. When that
pointed expression made its way back to me, I sighed and extended my hand.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Gibson.” I glanced at Josie,
making sure she was taking note. She was definitely taking note, and the way
she was looking at me reminded me of what she’d said in the hall about not
being sorry about that night, and that got me thinking about . . .