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.
Chapter Eight
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.
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.
Chapter Eight
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.