Finders Keepers

“Would you look at this? Isn’t it to die for?” Mrs. Gibson said, her excitement so extreme I could feel it.

“Yeah, Mom, it’s . . . great.” Josie’s voice bounced around the room, which meant she kept looking over her shoulder. If she didn’t cut that out, mama bear would figure out what was going on, and then papa bear would get his gun, and then I would be a Garth-skin rug on display in front of their fireplace.

“I thought you could wear it tonight for dinner. It’s just your color. Brings out the gold in your hair and eyes.”

“Sure, that sounds . . . great,” Josie said. I sighed quietly. The girl really didn’t have any experience hiding a guy from her parents. She was a damn rookie. “But are you throwing some party for dinner tonight I don’t know about? Why do you want me dressing up in silk chiffon?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Oh, dear me, it must have slipped my mind . . . Your father and I invited Colt Mason over for dinner. He’s such a nice boy, Josie, and we haven’t seen him around lately. He comes from such a good family, and all of that money . . .” Mrs. Gibson sounded close to fainting from the thought of it.

I was close to boiling over. I did not want Colt Mason over there, sitting around Josie’s dining room table, checking her out in whatever pretty dress her mom had picked up for her. The mere thought of him running his eyes all over her made me want to squish his head with my boot until it went splat.

I had a lot of anger. I was working on it.

“That’s great, Mom, but tonight is Garth’s first night here. I thought we could do a dinner with just the four of us. You know, ease him in before having a bunch of company over.”

“It’s just Colt. One extra person hardly qualifies as a bunch of company. If you ask me, Garth Black could learn a lesson or two from Colt. Let’s hope he takes notes tonight.”

Colt Mason was a grade A poser douche. The day I took notes from him was the same one I tied a noose around my neck and pulled the lever myself.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” Josie sounded about as uncomfortable as I was pissed off. “Colt and Garth aren’t exactly best friends.”

“They don’t have to be friends, but they do have to tolerate each other while under my roof. And we both know who would be the first to break that rule.”

Yeah, that made three of us who knew that. No matter if I was under the Gibsons’ roof or inside a seedy bar or he was heading into that damn tanning salon where he kept a standing weekly appointment—I didn’t tolerate Colt Mason.

“Sweetie, were you about to take a shower? Of course you were. I’m sorry. You’d better start warming that water up now if you want a warm shower before lunch. With these frigid temperatures, the water’s taking its sweet time heating up. I had to wait a good ten minutes before the shower downstairs was ready, and the water up here takes much longer to warm up.”

I glared up at the shower head.

“That’s okay. I’m sure it won’t take that long.” Josie’s voice had a nervous wobble.

Mrs. Gibson let out a long sigh. “You are a stubborn one, Josie Belle. Fine. If you don’t want to turn it on, I’ll do it.” A pair of heels only got a couple of clacks toward the shower.

“No worries. I got it.” Josie’s nervous wobble was gone, but something close to frantic had taken its place. “You’re right. I should warm it up first.”

Josie’s shower was small—old farmhouse small. I was already cramped up as small as I’d go on the floor of the tub. There was no way I could cramp up smaller to position my body away from the shower head, so it looked like I’d be getting that shower after all—minus the warm water. Josie peeked her head inside the shower curtain, an apologetic look on her face. Mouthing I’m so, so sorry, she cranked on the water and ducked back out again. The pipes inside the old farmhouse didn’t work as quickly as modern pipes. That gave me a few seconds to brace myself.

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 f**king 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 . . .