Текст книги "Finders Keepers"

Автор книги: Nicole Williams

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Josie in her itty-bitty tank top with her hair in a floppy ponytail and her hands clamped over her eyes . . . It was the funniest, sexiest sight I’d seen. “Okay, fine. If you’re going to go all prude on me.” Sitting up just enough, I pretended to get up to grab some clothes, but I was watching her without blinking.

A couple moments later, her fingers splayed just enough for me to see her eyes, which meant . . .

I flashed my face in front of hers and winked. “Made you look.”

Josie’s hands dropped from her eyes and went straight to my chest. She shoved me hard enough I almost tipped off the bed. “Nice jeans, asshole.”

I laughed again when she threw herself back down, her back to me again. “Nice sneaking a peek there, Secret Agent Gibson. Hoping to catch a glimpse of something?”

Josie gave an irritated sigh. “Shut up, Black.”

“Why would I do that when it’s so much more fun to tease you?”

“Because you like-slash-love your dick and probably want to keep it.”

“Hold up. Are you threatening the very piece of anatomy you were just hoping to sneak a peek at?” I pulled off my socks, left my jeans in place, and laid back down. Josie had been checking me out. I was back to grinning at the ceiling.

“My threat’s about to turn into a reality if you don’t zip it and go to sleep like I thought you were dying to do five minutes ago.”

“Come on, it’s no big deal. It’s perfectly natural to want to inspect a fine specimen like myself. I’d be happy to give you the whole show—the full monty—free of charge. But only looking, no touching. Or wait, you prefer peeking, right?” Our endless banter felt good. It took me back to a happier time before things had gotten so complicated between us.

“Sleep now or forever hold your peace, Black.” I was working up my reply when she added, “I mean it.” From her tone, I knew she was done. She’d hit her bullshit limit.

I’d learned enough to know when to back off. After a few minutes of silence, I was close to falling asleep when I felt the mattress quaking. It was so infinitesimal, I was surprised I’d even noticed. When I glanced at Josie’s back, I understood where it was coming from. She was shivering. I didn’t think next. I responded.

“You’re shivering.” I scooted up behind her and draped my arm around her before pulling her close. I couldn’t tell if she was cold. The only thing I felt was her body pressed into mine.

She didn’t pull away. In fact, she seemed to burrow deeper into my arms. “Yeah, well, I had to go and save this asshole from freezing to death.”

I tilted my face into her hair and smiled. “Plus, you’re wearing lingerie to bed.”

“Plus that.” I heard the smile in her voice.

We didn’t say anything else for a while. We just lay together until our breathing synced and her shivering stopped. I’d been on that bed with Josie before in the most intimate way a man and woman could be together, but I hadn’t felt connected to her the way I did with my arms around her, both of us mostly clothed. I wasn’t familiar with that kind of intimacy, but it felt strangely more intimate than sex. I was close to falling asleep, and I was sure she already must have been, when I whispered, “Better now?”

I wasn’t expecting a response, but the last thing I heard before letting myself go was a quiet, “Better now.”

I WASN’T A dreamer. Never had been, never would be. That translated into my sleep state as well. I didn’t dream at night. Or at least not the kind I remembered when I woke up.

Waking up in Josie’s bed, I remembered so many different dreams, it didn’t seem possible that much could have run through my brain in only one night. I wanted to discount the new dream phenomenon with sleeping in a warm house, in a soft bed, but I couldn’t even bullshit myself into believing that. I knew what had caused the dreams. Or who.

A certain someone who wasn’t curled up beside me like she’d been all night. Peeling my eyes open, I scanned Josie’s empty room. If it wasn’t a work day, I wouldn’t have minded throwing the covers over my head and passing out for a few more hours. I hadn’t slept that great in my whole life. I hadn’t woken up feeling so good ever. That might have had something to do with not passing out with a heavy dose of whiskey in me, but it also had a whole lot to do with sleeping beside Josie. Falling asleep beside her was so . . . peaceful. So easy. Those concepts—peaceful and easy—were terms I wasn’t familiar with. They were ideas I’d never really thought I wanted to become familiar with until last night. Until I felt them so strongly I wondered if my whole life, I’d been doing it wrong.

Unfortunately, a good night’s sleep hadn’t eased my confusion. If anything, it had only increased. Confusion was the new normal for me, but one thing I had been able to pinpoint—Josie was somehow connected to it all. The confusion, the dual consciousnesses warring with one another, the steady stream of questions, the dry river of answers . . . it all connected to her somehow.

My life had become one giant cluster-fuck all because of a woman. I suppose, given my history, that wasn’t so hard to believe. What was hard to believe was which woman had brought it on. The girl I’d grown up with. My childhood friend, my adolescent secret obsession, my biggest mistake. That was a whole lot of screwed up I just wasn’t up to working out without a cup of coffee in me.

Rolling over, I sat up. My gaze immediately landed on Josie’s vanity mirror across the room. Not because I was so relentlessly vain I couldn’t go thirty seconds after waking up without checking myself out—I might have been a cocky son of a bitch, but vain was a stretch—but because it was impossible to miss the red lipstick note taking up the whole mirror.

Stay put until I give you the all clear. I’d hate to spend the summer picking shotgun shell out of your ass.

 

I couldn’t decide what I liked more: the oozing smart-ass in Josie’s note or that she’d written it in lipstick on a mirror. Because, you know, a paper and pen were so inconvenient.

My jeans were still in place—something that was as fortunate as it was unfortunate—so after grabbing my shirt from the floor, I slid into it and stood up. How long would I have to wait before Josie deemed it safe for me to come out? Hopefully soon because my stomach was rumbling something fierce and Willow Springs was, judging from how high the sun was, expecting me at work at least three hours ago. Neil was the kind of employer who was quick to forgive, but I wasn’t. He depended on me, and I didn’t want to repay that by disappointing him.

“All clear!”

If Josie was yelling at that volume, her parents had to be a state away. I didn’t need to be invited twice. Hurrying out of the room, I jogged down the stairs and into the kitchen. Josie finished pouring a couple cups of coffee before sitting at the table.

She motioned at the chair beside her but couldn’t seem to look at me. “I made some breakfast. If you’re hungry.” My stomach answered for me. “Dig in. I wasn’t sure exactly what you’d want, so I made a little bit of everything.” Josie bit her lip and waved at the spread on the table. I’d been so preoccupied with staring at her that I hadn’t noticed what was for breakfast.

“Whoa, Joze. This isn’t breakfast, this is a bloody feast.” I’d seen that much food at a table before—when I was in the Walkers’ kitchen and they were feeding twenty hungry cowboys.

“I know, I know. I overdid it. My mom’s a firm believer in having too much food rather than not enough food, so I suppose I picked up that from her.”

I came around the table and took a seat. When I was that close to her, it was hard for me to look her straight on, too. “Too much food is having leftovers for the next day. This . . . well this is having leftovers until next year.” Really, there was so much meat on the table, it was a miracle it hadn’t buckled from the weight. That was just the start. I saw so many different types of eggs, I couldn’t even identify them all. The pile of pancakes in the center of the table was a true engineering feat. Fruit, fried potatoes, pitchers of juice . . . It was a damn breakfast buffet fit for the cavalry. “Did your parents already eat?”

“They left earlier this morning to run some errands in town. I made this for you.” She scanned the table again, biting her lip even harder.

“For me?”

“Well, for us.”

I could recall every last kind gesture a person had paid me in my life—they were that few—and Josie putting together a breakfast like that for me, for us, just secured a top five spot. I was momentarily struck speechless. “What are we doing just gawking at it then? Let’s dig in.”

I smiled at her, and she returned it. Getting the shy act from Josie was something I expected about as frequently as her inviting me to the nail salon. Basically, never. I wasn’t sure how to take it.

I loaded up on fried potatoes and sausage while Josie went for the pancakes and fruit. After shoveling most of my first serving down, along with two full cups of coffee, I gave my stomach a break to process. The food was good, just as solid as the stuff that came out of the Walkers’ kitchen. Josie knew how to cook. When had that happened?

“So . . . how did you sleep?” I gave her the vocal equivalent of a nudge.

“Not bad,” she answered, lifting a shoulder. At least she’d thrown on a bathrobe. After last night and her breakfast, I wasn’t sure what I would do next. Had Josie still been wearing nothing more than glorified lingerie, the outlook for keeping my hands to myself wasn’t good. Lifting her gaze to mine, she lifted an eyebrow. “How did you sleep?”

I didn’t even try to dim my grin. “Not bad.”

Josie shook her head and laughed softly. At least we were past the shy act. I wasn’t sure how to act around shy Josie, but the part-amused, part-irritated one I’d had a decade and a half of experience with.

“So? Parents? Dad? Shotgun? How long before I can expect it to be aimed my way?” Last night I’d been too beat to think about what came next, but after a good night’s sleep and breakfast, I was able to form a string of clear thoughts.

“Provided you don’t go and steal his daughter’s ‘virtue’ which, hell, you and I know that’s two years too late”—Josie shot me a smirk before popping a grape in her mouth—“you should be good. I caught them this morning before they left, explained your situation, and they agreed to let you stay here for a while. In the guest room.”

I stopped refilling my coffee cup mid-way through. “Wait. What? Last night was a one-time deal. It was wonderful and amazing and just what I needed, but it’s not happening again.”

Josie tossed another grape in her mouth. “No need for a recap. I know I totally rocked your world, baby.” My eyebrows drew together before she shoved my arm. “Lighten up. Can’t take a joke this early in the morning?”

Apparently not when Josie was throwing out sexual innuendos and I was fixated on her mouth. And the grapes she kept popping in there. And the way she sucked one for a moment before biting into it. Holy shit. Proverbial cold shower or face slap or something.

“I can take a joke anytime you want to send one my way, Joze. Bring it.” I had to force myself to stop staring at her mouth because apparently I was incapable of talking and staring at the same time. “But by last night being a one-time deal, I didn’t mean that in the obvious fantasy you’ve created of what happened between us last night. Come on, if we’re making up fantasies, it was me that rocked your world.” Josie made a Ha! sound. “But hating to have to bring our filthy fantasies to an end and face reality—sleeping in your bed and squatting at your place was a one-night deal. I wasn’t planning on moving in with you and your parents indefinitely. I’m not imposing on you all like that. No way.”

Josie waited a few seconds. Her reply came in the form of an unimpressed face and voice. “Are you done yet?”

“Just getting warmed up if need be.”

“Good for you.” She nodded down the hall. “You’ve got the guest room. If you need anything, let me know.”

I exhaled. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Yep. Loud and clear. I’m just choosing to ignore it.”

Two whole minutes of having the Josie I knew back, and I almost missed the shy version. “Josie—”

“Garth. Stop. Yes, I know you’d rather eat your own boot than accept something that even resembles generosity. I know you’d rather freeze your ass off than sleep in a warm house and bed because of your warped views of making sure you’re never in the red in someone’s ledger, but this isn’t open to negotiation. This is me telling you that you’re staying here. Partly because this cold snap is here to stay for the rest of the week, and if you think I’m letting you go back to your truck, you’re insane.” She looked like she had more to say, but after her mouth clamped shut, it didn’t open again.

“And what’s the other part?”

“What do you mean?” She was back to looking everywhere else but at me.

“You said ‘partly,’ which by the laws of parts and wholes, means there’s another ‘partly’ you failed to mention.” I tried not to smile at her apparent discomfort. “So what’s the other part?”

Josie stalled by sipping her juice. Leaning back, I crossed my arms and waited. After a few seconds, she slammed her juice down and groaned. “There is no other part. None. Nada. No. Other. Part. Got it?” Tilting my head closer to her, I tapped my ear. Her reply was another groan and a shove. “You know, I made all of this food in hopes it would keep your mouth and mind occupied so we could sit in peace for a whole five minutes.”

“You mean it wasn’t to get my energy stores high so I could give you another world-rocking night later on?” I was just reaching for the fried eggs when I got my second shove of the morning. A few seconds of silence followed, just long enough for me to be reminded of something. “Hey, Joze, would you mind if I borrowed your phone? I need to call Willow Springs and check in with Neil.”

“I already called him and explained the situation.” Maybe she could explain it to me, because I was still trying to figure out my “situation”. “He said to just take the rest of the day off because he’s cancelled all of the non-essential work until this cold front lifts.”

“Oh . . . okay.” I was at a temporary loss. I wasn’t used to someone else taking care of my business. It was a novel concept for me, like so much lately. “Did he say anything else?”

“I think he was a little upset you pretty much lied to them about where you were staying. I mean, you know Willow Springs has a bunkhouse for a reason, right?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s so the hands who don’t have homes close by have somewhere to hang their hats.” Plus, my pride might have factored into it as well. I wanted to be able to make it on my own—not take up residence in my employer’s bunkhouse.

“Garth, your home burnt to the ground . . .”

“I’ve got a home, all right?” I hadn’t meant to sound so sharp. So hard.

“Where is that exactly?” Josie was used to my regular bouts of acting like an asshole. They didn’t faze her anymore.

“Joze,” I warned, dropping my fork on the plate. I was done eating if the conversation continued.

“Fine, fine. Home is where the heart is, right?”

“Right.”

“Although I was under the impression you didn’t have a heart,” she mumbled before tossing a grape at me.

“You’re just full of witty comebacks in the morning. I’ve been missing out.” Taking another chug of coffee, I studied Josie from the corner of my eyes. “What about you? Since you’re still here with daddy and mommy dearest, I’m guessing this is where your heart still is.”

Josie shrugged. “I love ranching. All aspects of it. I won’t be happy unless I’m living and working on one, and since dad and mom can’t do it all by themselves and my brother wants nothing to do with it, this is still where my heart and home are.” She shrugged again. “At least until something changes.”

I didn’t need to ask what she meant—I knew. She meant until some rich rancher’s son tossed a ring on her finger. I drained my glass of water to cool me down from the thought of Josie falling in love with and marrying some other guy.

Josie tossed the last grape on her plate into her mouth—thank god—and her expression shifted into something not so light. I knew that face. I needed to get up and bail or grit my teeth and strap in, because Josie didn’t ask roundabout questions or blunt the truth. That was one of the many things I appreciated about her . . . except when it was directed at me.

“Are you ready to tell me why you’ve been living out of your truck for months when you didn’t have to?” She wasn’t easing in with a warm-up question or anything. Straight to game point.

“Partly”—I lifted my finger—“take notes on how a person utilizes the word partly.” And there it was, my first eye roll of the day. “Partly because I like living on my own. Partly because I’ve been sleeping in my truck since I bought it—”

“What you and some nameless Jezebel do on the mattress in the bed of that thing is not considered sleeping.” Cue the peanut gallery. Josie could hang with the best of them.

I continued. “Partly because I don’t like living by someone else’s set of rules. Partly because I don’t like imposing on people. Partly because I kind of like pissing you off.”

Instead of a grape, a wedge of apple slapped against my cheek. “Are you done yet?”

“Joze, I’ve got so many partlys you’ll be old and gray if you sit here listening to them all.”

“Then why don’t you put your parts away before you hurt yourself.”

“Myself likes playing with my parts.” I smiled at her over my cup of coffee.

“That would explain why you spent most of your teenage years cross-eyed. My mom was right, after all. You really do go cross eyed if you masturbate too much.”

“Your mom’s a wise woman.” I drained the rest of my coffee and set the cup down. If I ate any more, I would have to undo the top button of my jeans. But if I was the kind of person who knew their limits, I wouldn’t have drained as many bottles of whiskey as I had and I wouldn’t have an army of women plotting my demise.

“So, because I know you, I understand why you didn’t want to impose on anyone, you’ve been living out of your truck for a while, blah, blah, blah . . . But why didn’t you just go get your own place or something? Rent an apartment or rent a room from one of the old widows out here? I’m sure you’ve been making decent money at Willow Springs.”

I froze for a fraction of a second. “Neil pays me well, but it’s not like I’ve got mountains of money in the bank.”

“What about a mini mountain?” I shook my head. “A molehill?”

I gave another shake. “I believe, at last count, I had a whopping thirteen cents in my account.”

Josie’s forehead lined. “Where the hell has all the money you’ve been making gone?” She wasn’t asking in a rude way; she was just flabbergasted.

I got it, though. I was bringing home solid cash . . . it just didn’t stay put long. I met her gaze and raised a brow in answer.

“Shit, really, Black? You’ve spent that much money on whiskey and women?” I guess she took my lack of response as a confirmation. “Wow. I don’t know whether to applaud you for living it up or have you arrested for grossly irresponsible behavior.”

“Welcome to my predicament.”

Josie stared at the table. “Wow. Just wow.”

“Glad I could wow you this early in the day.”

“There’s a negative and positive form of wow, you know?”

“Yes. Unfortunately I’ve become very familiar with one form, but thanks for the reminder.” Generally, I didn’t care what people thought of me or how I chose to live. For some reason, Josie’s face lined with shock and disappointment hit me like a painful blow to the gut. A change of topic was in order. “How did dear daddy and mommy take it when you told them about me and my predicament?”

Josie picked at her scrambled eggs. “Fine. I basically told them you needed a place to stay, we had a place for you, and that was that.”

“They just agreed to it? No questions asked? No argument?”

“Pretty much. Yep.” Whenever Josie kept her answers short and sweet, she was sugarcoating something. Given she was trying to sell me that her parents just went along with the villain known as Garth Black moving into their house without so much as lifting a finger, she wasn’t just sugarcoating. She was sugarblasting.

“And they thought what about me sleeping here last night? In your room?”

Josie took a sip of her juice and threw me a sideways look. “What are you talking about? Your first night here is tonight. In the guest room.”

“My, oh, my. Did Miss Josie Gibson tell her parents a bold-faced lie? You did go to Sunday school growing up, right? The whole thou shalt not lie to thy parents . . . that’s something they taught, right?” I scooted my chair next to hers and leaned in close until she couldn’t not look me in the eye. I grinned.

She scowled. “Since I lied to save your life since my dad has a shoot-first-ask-questions-second policy about guys being in my bed, I figured someone higher up would give me a pass.” She grabbed the brim of my hat and shook it before popping out of her chair to take her plate to the sink.

“If anyone deserves a pass, it would be you.” I stuffed the last piece of toast in my mouth and carried my plate to the sink. She grabbed a washrag as the sink filled with sudsy water. I turned off the water and blocked her from the sink. “Hey, you cooked. I have clean-up duty. But that starts with getting myself cleaned up, then the kitchen.” I tried not to zero in on the triangle of skin just above her chest that popped out of her bathrobe when she threw her hands on her hips. Tried and failed. “Do you mind if I use your shower? Then I’ll clean up in here, and then I’ve got to head over to Willow Springs. Just to check in and make sure Neil really doesn’t need me today.”

“Be my guest. Just save me some hot water.”

“You could just join me, you know. That way you’d be sure to have hot water, and we’d conserve the world’s most precious resource.”

“You and I both know your idea of the world’s most precious resource might be a liquid, but it isn’t water.”

“Ooo, burn. Nice one.” I held my hand up for a high five, but all she did was flick it.

“Away to the shower with you.” She sniffed the air in my direction. “You reek.”

“Whatever. That’s all man you’re smelling. Might want to take note of that the next time Colt Mason shows up at your door smelling like eau de pussy.” That earned me a shove. And another when I didn’t head for the stairs. “Enough with the shoves already, pushy. No more.” She gave me a what are you going to do about it look. “Or else.”

She waved her hands in exaggerated terror at my threat. As far as threats went, “or else” was definitely one of my weaker ones. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard Josie follow me. “What was your plan, Garth? You weren’t planning on living out of your truck the rest of your life were you?” She was at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at me with curious eyes.

“I don’t know. You know me. I live life day to day, hour to hour. I’m not the guy with long-term goals or a five-year plan. I’m the kind of guy who lives for the moment.” I shrugged. “I’m sure if that truck had gotten cold enough, I would have figured something out. I just hadn’t gotten uncomfortable enough to make a change.”

Her eyes widened. “Garth, it was two below last night, and I found you with icicles practically growing out of your nose. That doesn’t make you uncomfortable enough to make a change?”

“Are you trying to say I’ve got the survival instincts of a wooly mammoth?” She was trying to say something; that was obvious.

“No, I’m trying to say I don’t think you know what’s good for you. I’m trying to say you wouldn’t know what was good for you if it fell out of the sky and squirmed around on your face. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

I grabbed the handrail. “Okay, this is all a little too much . . . psychoanalysis for one morning. I’m hitting the shower.”

“Have a nice shower. I hope it’s full of introspection.” She waved before heading into the kitchen.

I leaned over the handrail. “The most introspection that will be happening is me deciding whether to soap my junk clockwise or counterclockwise.” When Josie didn’t have an immediate comeback, I smiled and headed up the rest of the stairs.

“Haven’t you heard? Your junk has a reputation for not being discerning.”

I hated when she got in the last word.