got this cool, slick exterior, but on top of those designer duds, your mind ticks with the precision of a Swiss clock. Chalk this one up as a holiday to remember, and move on.”
Probably quite sound advice. Gib hated advice. He far preferred to make up his own mind. Another reason he avoided the albatross of a serious relationship around his neck. But he still couldn’t ignore the need to find her, and kiss her again. Over and over and over. “It’s not that easy.”
“Why not? You don’t need her. You’ve got Milo, the best roommate in the known universe, doing your laundry and keeping the house tidy—”
Gib cut him off as he neatly creased his trousers before draping them over the hanger. “Hey, Milo swears that he enjoys cleaning. He likes to play with the feather duster. And as a trade-off, I set him up with fantastic orchestra seats at the Goodman and Ford Oriental for every show that comes through town.”
“Let me finish.” Ben let go of his ankle and began ticking points off on his fingers. “You’ve got most of the eligible hotties in town ready to roll into your bed at the blink of an eye, and you’ve got Daphne to watch soccer with and share those nuclear hot wings you love.”
They were both addicted to the sweet heat that blistered their lips when they ate enough. Once she introduced wings to his bland English palate, there was no turning back. Their fingers and lips were usually stained bright orange during their wing nights. He’d never let any woman in the world but Daphne see him like that. Around her, Gib could let down his guard. Being in her company was like slipping into a pair of often-washed flannel pajamas. Soft, easy, comfortable.
Gib kept talking while he swapped his French cuffed shirt for his favorite red Under Armour compression tee. He liked the way it shortened his recovery time after an extensive circuit of the weight room. “Another useful thing about Daphne is that she’s always ready to impart the female perspective on life. I find having a conduit to that information quite valuable when chatting up women.”
“Oh yeah—Daphne’s never afraid to tell you what she thinks. She’s the whole package, no question. Which brings me full circle to my point. You don’t have any holes in your life. There’s nothing this mystery woman could give you that you don’t already get from someone else. Except for a whole world of trouble. And possible arrest as a stalker. So let her go.”
Ben made sense. Gib couldn’t dispute a single point he’d made. Chasing this woman over the internet could easily cause embarrassment both personally and professionally. No woman was worth that. He had a great life. Why do anything to change it?
He sat on the bench to put on his running trainers. “You’re right. And you’ve stopped me from making a total cock-up.”
“What the hell?” Ben’s startled gaze swung straight to Gib’s groin. “Since when is your cock up, and why are we talking about it?”
Barking out a laugh, Gib fig-leafed his hands. “Sorry. Don’t wig out on me. It’s slang. The British version, at any rate. A cock-up is a big mess.”
“Huh. I’d recommend you never, ever use that phrase in a locker room again.”
Gib pointed at the door, and waited for Ben to exit into the weight room. “You’re chock-full of good advice today. It’s kind of like hanging out with a spot-on fortune cookie.” He could joke with Ben, and resolve not to waste any more time looking for the girl with the luscious lips. He could put New Year’s Eve in his rearview mirror, and concentrate on the actual new year in front of him. But Gib knew that deep down, he’d never be able to forget exactly how she felt, how she tasted and how perfectly they meshed. Bloody hell.
Chapter Four
Hopes are planted in friendship’s garden where dreams blossom into priceless treasures
~ Anonymous
Daphne pulled off her beloved Bears jersey, balled it up and tossed it in the corner.
Probably quite sound advice. Gib hated advice. He far preferred to make up his own mind. Another reason he avoided the albatross of a serious relationship around his neck. But he still couldn’t ignore the need to find her, and kiss her again. Over and over and over. “It’s not that easy.”
“Why not? You don’t need her. You’ve got Milo, the best roommate in the known universe, doing your laundry and keeping the house tidy—”
Gib cut him off as he neatly creased his trousers before draping them over the hanger. “Hey, Milo swears that he enjoys cleaning. He likes to play with the feather duster. And as a trade-off, I set him up with fantastic orchestra seats at the Goodman and Ford Oriental for every show that comes through town.”
“Let me finish.” Ben let go of his ankle and began ticking points off on his fingers. “You’ve got most of the eligible hotties in town ready to roll into your bed at the blink of an eye, and you’ve got Daphne to watch soccer with and share those nuclear hot wings you love.”
They were both addicted to the sweet heat that blistered their lips when they ate enough. Once she introduced wings to his bland English palate, there was no turning back. Their fingers and lips were usually stained bright orange during their wing nights. He’d never let any woman in the world but Daphne see him like that. Around her, Gib could let down his guard. Being in her company was like slipping into a pair of often-washed flannel pajamas. Soft, easy, comfortable.
Gib kept talking while he swapped his French cuffed shirt for his favorite red Under Armour compression tee. He liked the way it shortened his recovery time after an extensive circuit of the weight room. “Another useful thing about Daphne is that she’s always ready to impart the female perspective on life. I find having a conduit to that information quite valuable when chatting up women.”
“Oh yeah—Daphne’s never afraid to tell you what she thinks. She’s the whole package, no question. Which brings me full circle to my point. You don’t have any holes in your life. There’s nothing this mystery woman could give you that you don’t already get from someone else. Except for a whole world of trouble. And possible arrest as a stalker. So let her go.”
Ben made sense. Gib couldn’t dispute a single point he’d made. Chasing this woman over the internet could easily cause embarrassment both personally and professionally. No woman was worth that. He had a great life. Why do anything to change it?
He sat on the bench to put on his running trainers. “You’re right. And you’ve stopped me from making a total cock-up.”
“What the hell?” Ben’s startled gaze swung straight to Gib’s groin. “Since when is your cock up, and why are we talking about it?”
Barking out a laugh, Gib fig-leafed his hands. “Sorry. Don’t wig out on me. It’s slang. The British version, at any rate. A cock-up is a big mess.”
“Huh. I’d recommend you never, ever use that phrase in a locker room again.”
Gib pointed at the door, and waited for Ben to exit into the weight room. “You’re chock-full of good advice today. It’s kind of like hanging out with a spot-on fortune cookie.” He could joke with Ben, and resolve not to waste any more time looking for the girl with the luscious lips. He could put New Year’s Eve in his rearview mirror, and concentrate on the actual new year in front of him. But Gib knew that deep down, he’d never be able to forget exactly how she felt, how she tasted and how perfectly they meshed. Bloody hell.
Chapter Four
Hopes are planted in friendship’s garden where dreams blossom into priceless treasures
~ Anonymous
Daphne pulled off her beloved Bears jersey, balled it up and tossed it in the corner.
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