Finders Keepers (10 page)

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.

I STARED AT myself in the mirror
until the steam from the shower fogged it up. Again, not a vanity thing. It was
a was-Josie-right? thing. Did I not have a clue what was good for me? I’d
always believed I was one of the people who’d drawn the short straw in life.
I’d accepted that fortune favored the few, and I wasn’t in that tight circle.
I’d accepted life was a chore some days, a damn obstacle course other days, and
out to get me most days. Could twenty-one years of waving my middle finger at
social norms have given me a skewed sense of right and wrong? Of what was good
and what was bad for me?

Instead of driving my fist into the mirror like I wanted to,
I gripped the edges of the sink until my knuckles went white. Up until
recently, I’d never questioned anything and everything. I had all the answers.
Lately, I had exchanged all the answers for all the questions. I was drowning
in an ocean of questions, and even though I knew the answers would eliminate
the questions, I was afraid of what the answers would be. I was afraid the
answers would do the opposite of set me at peace. So my options were to stay
lost in a sea of questions or drown under the weight of the answers.

Yeah, I was fucked. I barely stopped my fist before it
pounded through the mirror. Not even a second later, a different pounding
sounded. It came from the bathroom door. “Yeah?”

“Unless you want to come out smelling like honeysuckle body
wash—which you’re totally free to use, by the way—I brought you a bar of soap.”

With handful of words from Josie, my mood shifted to a few
levels above depressed. “Thanks, Joze. You know how I hate honeysuckle.”

“I’m not doing this for you, Black. I’m doing this for your
date tonight. I wouldn’t want her to crawl into bed with a man whose junk smelt
like honeysuckle when she thought she was in for a wild night with Garth Black.
That’s a way to crush a girl’s fantasies.”

“You’re so selfless.” I chuckled before wiping the steam
from the mirror with my forearm. “Hey, Joze? You wouldn’t happen to have a
blade I could use to shave my face, would you? I’m about to turn into Grizzly
Adams.” I didn’t mind a little bit of scruff and, let’s face it, neither did
the ladies, but there was scruff and there was the monster I was growing on my
face.

“Um, yeah, I think so.” The doorknob twisted. “Are you
decent?” That was a question I didn’t need to answer. “Never mind. Most obvious
question ever. How about . . . are you clothed?”

I glanced down. “Mostly.”

“Given you said you were naked last night, but the opposite
turned out to be true, I’m going to go with the same trend this morning and
assume that you saying you’re mostly clothed means you’re bare-ass naked.”

The girl’s reasoning was solid, but trying to apply reason
to me was a huge error. “There are no bare asses in view. I promise.
Unfortunately.”

“You swear to god and hope to die?”

I smiled. That had been our favorite way to promise things
as kids. “I’ll even stick a needle in my eye.”

“I’m trusting you, Black.” The door opened slowly before she
slipped inside. Her eyes were sealed closed. “As much as trusting Garth Black
is counterintuitive.”

I settled my backside on the ledge of the sink. “See? No
bare asses in view since it’s sitting on your bathroom sink. Only bare fronts
in view.” Josie’s face ironed out in shock before her eyes flashed open. Just
as quickly, they narrowed on me. “Made you look.” I winked.

“You and those jeans.” She tossed the bar of soap at me.
“You seem more like the guy who’d be waltzing around in his underwear every
chance he got.”

I shrugged. “I probably would be, but that would require
wearing underwear in the first place. Which I don’t. Which you might remember
if . . .”
Insert foot here.

Thankfully, Josie didn’t look as uncomfortable as I felt.
“Even if I hadn’t been so drunk I couldn’t remember my name, I’d still repress
that night into the darkest recesses of my mind.”

“You mean the
Black
recesses of your mind?” The words
and smile I’d given her totally deserved a slap across the face, but instead
she gave me a look that made me feel half a foot tall. Pulling open a drawer,
she grabbed a razor and flashed it in front of my face. “Do I look like the
kind of guy who uses a razor to shave my face? A
pink
one at that?”

“No, you look like a guy who doesn’t have a lot of options,
and unless he wants to go into the rug-growing business, he’ll take what’s
offered. With a smile and a thank you,” Josie finished with a sigh. “Besides,
if you don’t use a razor like this, what do you use? An electric one? I think
my mom still has the one she uses—”

I lifted my hand. I did not want Mrs. Gibson’s electric
shaver—wherever she used that sucker—up against my face. “I use a
straight-edge. I’ve got one in my truck, so I’ll just grab it and shave
tomorrow.”

“A straight-edge? Isn’t that one of those things that can
slice through a man’s neck with just a hint too much pressure?” I shrugged.
“Seems a little barbaric given there are modern options and advancements.” She
waved the pink razor at me again.

I grabbed it and tossed it in the garbage can. “A barbaric
tool for a barbaric man.” Josie shoved my chest, but that time, I caught her
wrists and pinned them behind her back, grinning victoriously at her. She
rolled her eyes at me. “I warned you with my intimidating ‘or else’ threat.
What are you going to do now, tough girl?”

She didn’t waste any time trying to physically over power
me. She didn’t go for the cheap shot and knee me in the nuts either. She just
stood there for a few moments, focusing on a spot just past my shoulder, as the
wheels turned in her head. She was working something out so hard I was waiting
for smoke to billow from her ears. A few seconds later, I saw the light bulb go
off. Her eyes widened for a split second before a smile so small it could
barely be detected fell into place.

And then, her eyes shifted up. They locked onto mine, and
something in hers softened something in mine, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted
to do more: get down on my hands and knees to worship her or throw her up
against a wall and screw until we passed out. My breathing picked up, my
heartbeat even more so, and she was still a half a foot away from me. When she
stepped forward so that her body, and all its curves and bends and soft spots
and hard spots, formed into mine, my breath and my heart stopped altogether. My
mind was made up. I was one stalled heartbeat away from doing what I needed to
do most with her when a door slamming jolted us out of whatever fog we’d been
in.

“Josie! We’re home, sweet pea.”

“Shoot,” Josie hissed, breaking free of my hold and rushing
toward the door.

I took another moment to break free of whatever spell she’d
put me under, then uttered my own estimation of the current situation. It
wasn’t Josie’s PG version either. “I thought you said they were running errands
in town.”

“They are. They
were
.” Josie fumbled with the
doorknob like she was hoping a lock would magically appear. A pair of footsteps
marched up the stairs. The next thing Josie hissed wasn’t a
shoot
.

“What do you want me to do? There isn’t a window for me to
jump out of, and I’m not a damn gopher who can burrow my way out of here,” I
said.

“Stop being such a smart-ass.”

“Start giving me a little more direction and a little less
attitude.”

“Josie? Are you in the bathroom?” Mrs. Gibson asked, almost
outside the door.

“Uh, yeah, Mom. I am. Just a minute!” Josie powered up to
me, and lowered her voice. “Sorry I don’t have a lot of experience sneaking
guys in and out of rooms. I thought you were the expert on this.”

“Sneaking guys out of rooms?” I gave her a look.

“Unbelievable. You still manage to be a comedian when your
life’s thirty seconds away from being over.”

I never knew a woman whispering could be more intimidating
than one screaming, but I made sure to take note. “Fine. Since my options in
the escape route department are limited, I’ll hop in the shower and hide out
there.”

“Josie, I have to show you this dress I picked up for you.
You’re going to love it.” The door was just opening when I dodged behind the
shower curtain. Who walked in on someone in the bathroom without being invited?
Oh, yeah. This is Mrs. Gibson we were talking about.
She didn’t do
personal space well—or keeping her thoughts to herself.

“Hold up, Mom!” Josie called, but it was too late. Mrs.
Gibson was already in the bathroom. How did I know? Heaps of experience in
lying in wait, or hiding from, all sorts of people. Boyfriends, husbands, and
lovers mostly, but name a kind of person and a certain place, and chances are
I’d hidden from it or in it. I could detect when the air moved inside a room
from a door opening or closing. I was just that good. Or, thanks to the things
I was doing leading up to finding myself in that kind of a situation, I was
just that
bad
.

“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.