Page 26 of Snowed In with Benefits

That little explanation is both an apology for encroaching on Emmett’s territory and a confession that there’s something on his mind. I can guess what it is. She’s got a way of getting under my skin, and Hunter’s skin is a lot more susceptible to that kind of thing. As for Emmett, I have no idea.

I know him like a brother, but even when we were working together, he never talked much about women. He appreciated them, of course, looked at them when there was something worth looking at, and always treated them with respect… but he’s never confessed to being lonely or wanting a wife or anything, and I haven’t seen anything in his interactions with Josie that would make me think that she’s changed his mind.

Hunter’s being quieter than usual. He’s more of a morning person than I am, more of a night owl too. He’s got too much energy in general. She must really be bothering his brain to interrupt his morning routine of cracking jokes while making breakfast.

As though he read my mind, Hunter shakes himself and pushes out of the chair. Moving slowly and less efficiently than usual, he starts pulling down pans and a cutting board. We have so much to do during the winter that we usually have a big breakfast, but I don’t think we need three frying pans worth of breakfast. I don’t say anything about it, just watch him work.

When he goes to pull down a fourth one, though, I’ve had enough.

“Bro.”

“Hm?” He blinks at me through his smudged glasses.

I nod at the stove. He looks at the stove, then looks at the pan in his hand. I can see his mind calculating just how many pans he actually needs for whatever it is he’s planning on cooking, then he puts the fourth one back and shakes his head.

“Too much whiskey,” he mumbles, mostly to himself.

I don’t know why he’s lying to himself like that. He had, what, three shots? A man of his size and constitution should be fine the next day. Not to mention, I know him. I know how much he can drink in a sitting and be perfectly normal the next day. This has nothing to do with whiskey and everything to do with the little woman who’s busily turning all of us upside down.

That’s not to say that she’s doing it intentionally, or that she’s even aware of what she’s doing. I’m pretty sure she’s still too wrapped up in her pity party about her ex-douchebag and her ruined wedding to realize that we’re all—or at least two of us are—entirely too aware of her.

I sip my coffee and watch Hunter figure out a use for pan number three. He’s frying up sausage and bacon in one and potatoes in another, and now he’s beating eggs. Plenty of protein, a little heavy on the fat, and enough carbs to get through the day. Works for me, even if it was just a decision to save face.

Speak of the devil, here she is. She’s wearing the same set of Hunter’s clothes that she was wearing yesterday. We’re going to have to do something about her lack of appropriate wardrobe.

Just like that, Hunter comes to life. He grins at her as he pours the eggs into the last hot pan.

“Good morning! You’re just in time. Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes.”

She gives him a weak smile, then her eyes flick to me and away in a hurry. Great, now the awkwardness from this morning can last all day.

“Coffee?” I ask her as I pull a cup off its hook.

She nods. “Please.”

“Whiskey’s a hell of a thing,” Emmett mutters at the window.

Josie winces. “Yeah. Might have had a little too much.”

Emmett turns around. “Hunter. After breakfast, or later?”

“Let’s let it warm up a bit first.” Hunter stirs the eggs with a frown of concentration. “Wind’s a little strong right now.”

Emmett nods, then refills his coffee. I frown at the coffee pot. Before she got here, we could all get two cups out of the thing before it was gone. Now, as soon as I get another cup full, I’ll have to make more. That puts us up to, what, three pots a day instead of two? Or two and a half? Is it even worth it to make half a pot of coffee, or should I just make a full one and throw the excess away?

I notice Josie glancing at me from the corner of my eye like she’s trying to figure me out. I force the frown away and pour the dregs into my cup before making another pot. Might as well just make three, it’s not that big of a difference.

But it’ll add up. A fourth person out here messes up all the calculations we did for our winter supplies. It won’t make a big difference today, tomorrow, or even this week, but if she stays much longer than that I’m going to have to figure out the difference in what we’ll need to get by. Which will mean making a Costco run before I wanted to, which will mean driving with chains on.

I hate driving with chains.

“Sit. Eat.” Emmett’s order from across the room can only be directed at me, since everybody else has served up and sat down while I was staring at the coffee brewing and thinking about supplies.

I grunt a response and pile up the rest of the food on my plate. Hunter is amazing at planning portions. We all always magically have exactly enough, which in turn makes planning shopping trips easier, which makes my life exponentially easier.

Until we have an unexpected guest, of course.

“So, what are you all up to today?” Josie asks.