No, it was fucking 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 . . .

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.


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