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.

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.