Friends To Lovers by Barth Christi

Author:Barth, Christi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

When men and women are able to respect and accept their differences then love has a chance to blossom ~ John Gray

Gib hitched up his sweatpants. The scent of something mouthwatering had broken through his haze of bone-deep exhaustion. As much as he didn’t want to crawl out of bed, breakfast beckoned. The thick, dark roast of coffee in the air gave him the energy to get vertical. Overlaying that was caramelized sugar, seductive and beckoning. With an eye on the prize, he’d dragged on sweats and thick socks.

He opened his bedroom door. The puffy nylon of his parka smacked against his face.

“Put the coat on and grab your boots,” barked Milo. At least, the voice belonged to Milo. A hunter’s cap with fleece-lined ear flaps came down to his eyebrows, and a purple argyle scarf pulled up over his nose. The bulk of what had to be three pairs of sweats ballooned from beneath his snow-white parka.

One arm in his coat, Gib stepped into his black Sorels. In those boots, he could stand in a snowdrift in the Arctic for three days and not feel it. “Is this a fire drill?”

“Opposite. It’s a blizzard.”

“Really?” Disbelieving, Gib clunked across the room. One shove at the curtain revealed a gray sky. Below it, everything looked like it had been dipped in marshmallow fluff. Snow buried the line of parked cars up to their windshields. Bare, skeletal branches dipped low under the heavy wetness of it.

“Started about midnight. Looked bad right from the start, so I stayed up and threw together a strawberry-stuffed French toast. Should be ready by the time we finish our place.” Milo handed over a blue knit cap.

“Did you call the guys? Are we starting here?” Gib, Milo and Sam usually pitched in to dig out the girls and the bakery. With Ben in the mix, it should go fast. Of course, now they had to shovel out Sam’s bakery, Daphne’s apartment, Ben and Ivy’s new digs, and here. If anyone else joined their little group, Gib might have to break down and buy a snowblower.

“Ben and Sam swung by Daphne’s already. Figured you wouldn’t want to be seen over there this morning. Or more to the point,” Milo said archly, “she wouldn’t want to see you.”

Here it comes, Gib thought. Although he’d spent several hours braced for a lecture, he hadn’t heard Milo come in last night. Probably because he’d been busy cutting a bloody swath through shoot ‘em up car chase game. Gib had plugged into headphones as soon as he finished scarfing down a hamburger and cold fries. He cranked the volume way up. Every crash, every gunshot, every siren vibrated into his skull. It was fast and violent and the perfect match for his hideous mood. He’d hammered at the joystick and buttons until his thumb gave out.

“You’ve got something to say? Spit it out, man,” Gib ordered. Might as well get the ass-kicking over with.

Milo opened his mouth. Closed it. Walked to the front closet and pulled out their shovels.

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