““What are you doing?” I ask, holding onto the door handle. “I’ve got to move your car up the road a little so I can shovel the end of the driveway,” he says. “No, I mean why did you not want that guy to clean the driveway?” “If I waited for that guy the snow would melt before your parents’ driveway is cleaned. Scott says he’s been out here for five hours and he has one strip of his driveway done, which is now all over me and thisdriveway.” “Scott’s here?” I ask, looking towards the closed front door. “Yeah, he just went in to get better gloves from your dad. Now that you’re here we can get the driveway cleared in under an hour.” I look back at the neighbour and realise that Travis might have a point about the snow blower. “An hour?” I scoff. “Thirty minutes tops.” His hand stops inches from the ignition and he looks up at me. “Is that a challenge?” “Last one to clear their section has to put their tongue on the lamppost,” I say. The smile spreads over Travis’ face. “You’re on.””
