“Oh, come on!”
She just grins. “I heard you were a good aim. Guess that was a lie, too.”
“Wow. Okay.” I scoop up snow and start to form a ball.
“Think fast,” she says, getting me again before ducking behind the birdbath.
I hurl a snowball that barely misses.
“Nice try,” she sing-songs, then pops up and gets me right in the chest for a second time. “You know, for someone who claimed to be all man, you’re getting your ass handed to you by someone in a daisy hat.”
I lunge. She shrieks and takes off, but I’ve got longer legs and a point to prove, so it doesn’t take much to catch her around the waist and haul her off her feet.
Frankie’s laughter is breathless and wild, her head tipping back as snow catches in her hair.
I set her down before I start thinking too hard about the way she fits against me. About how fucking good it feels to make her laugh—even if she’s mostly laughing at me.
“You done?” I ask.
“Never.”
She jams a snowball down the back of my jacket.
“Jesus—” I yelp, spinning away while she cackles.
Logan wheezes from across the lawn. “This is the best Christmas ever.”
Tamara yells, “Get her, Mason! For all of us!”
I do try, but she’s nimble as fuck, and that hat bounces like some kind of taunt.
I haven’t been attacked with this much enthusiasm since rookie year. Hell, I probably haven’t had as much fun since then, either.
Frankie is electric—laughing, dodging, teasing me every time she lands a hit.
I want her to hit me again.
I want her to forgive me.
I want to deserve it.
“Alright, enough!” Leah’s voice cuts through the cold. “You’ll all be frozen solid before dessert!”
Groans rise up from the yard, but everyone obeys and shuffles toward the house, soaked and smiling.
I pull my gloves off and jog to catch up, brushing a streak of snow from Frankie’s hat just before she slips inside. She doesn’t thank me, doesn’t even look at me. But she doesn’t shake me off, either.
I’ll take the win.
Inside, Leah presses a towel into my hands and points toward the stairs.
“You lot aren’t sitting in my dining chairs like that. Eli’s got spare clothes up in the second guest room—third door on the right.”
I nod, wiping my face. “Thanks, Leah.”
She turns to scold Logan, who’s dripping melted snow all over the welcome mat, so I head upstairs alone.
The second floor is quiet, the hallway lit with soft sconces and garlands twisted with fairy lights. I count doors as I go, but I must misjudge because I open door three and immediately regret it.
