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“Maybe,” he repeats, throwing a leg over his ATV. “I gotta run up to the barn. You headin’ out for the night?”

“Yeah, probably. You good here?”

“I got it handled.” He nods to me, adjusting his black cowboy hat. “Thanks, man.”

“Oh, hey. Can you give me a ride back to my house? Josie borrowed my Jeep today.”

He smiles. “Let’s hope she didn’t fuck some ranch hand in it.”

I glare at him. “She better not have.”

* * *

It takesme the better part of the afternoon to make it back to my house, and another hour before my hands thaw out. It’s two days before Christmas and while our house looks like the Jolly fucking Spirit possessed it, I’m not in the mood for anything cheery. In fact, I’m thinking of getting shit-faced drunk tonight to drown out the bright idea that keeps forming in my head to drive to Nashville, punch the doctor in the face, and steal the girl.

I shouldn’t, right?

Or should I? You probably know a little more about her than I do. Is she happy? Would I be destroying a good thing?

Maybe don’t answer me yet. Wait until I’m drunk later and we’ll talk again. That way, if you give me an answer I don’t like, I won’t remember.

I’m in my room after a shower, still shirtless, but I at least have jeans on when Josie appears at my door, chewing on something and a fork in her hand. I look over at my phone on the nightstand, and then back to Josie. “What are you eating?”

She talks around the chewing, batting her eyelashes. “Mom made pie.”

It looks like she has spider legs on her eyes, but I focus on what she’s eating. “Really?” I haven’t eaten all day. I left before sunrise and forgot my lunch box on the counter. I was so desperate to take a shower I forgot to eat.

“I ate the last piece,” she tells me as I reach for my shirt on the bed.

My eyes snap to hers. “You ate a whole pie?”

“No. I gave Dad a piece.”

I glare at her for crushing my pie dreams. “Get out of my room.”

She smiles and steps back a few inches, but still, essentially in my room. “I’m not in your room.”

If you have a sibling, you understand this argument about to go down. “Yes you are,” I growl and stand up. We might be twins and look too similar for her liking, but I’m still taller and meaner. “Get the fuck out.”

“Nope.” She holds her ground and tightens her grip on her fork. I wouldn’t put it past her to stab me with it. “I’m not even penetrating the threshold.”

I take the pillow off my bed and throw it at her face. “Yes you are.”

She dodges the pillow and looks down at her feet, stepping in and out of the doorway of the room quickly like she’s doing some kind of dance. “No, see,penetrated, not penetrated.Penetrated. Not penetrated.”

She’s making me dizzy with her rapid foot movements, and part of me hopes she falls on her ass and stabs herself with the fork in her hand. I roll my eyes and slip my shirt over my head and then stare at her. “Stop saying penetrated.”

“Penetrated.”

“What do you want?” I growl, shoving her.

“Lillian texted me. She’s at the bar. Wanna go?”

“I was already headin’ there.” I reach for my cell phone, stuff it in my back pocket, and then take my flannel off the end of the bed.

“Can you give me a ride? I told her I’d come down.”

“No. Walk.” In the process of retrieving my flannel, I grip a corner of it tightly, then send it whipping in her direction to hit her right on the thigh. She yelps in pain and falls to the ground. “Stay out of my room.”