“Want a hot toddy?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say, sitting at the table.
I feel bad not helping, but even the suggestion has Mary waving me away. She hands me the drink and goes back to working on Christmas dinner, promising me she has all the help she needs.
Rowan is moving seamlessly along with her, despite the fact that she hasn’t been here in years because of school and work. The way they move around each other shifts something in my gut.
To offset it, I take a sip from the steaming mug and instantly start coughing. “It’s liquor.”
Stating the obvious out loud, everyone looks at me like I should have known.
It feels rude to push it away, so I hold on to it while blowing like I’m waiting for it to cool down.
“You really weren’t kidding last night,” I say, hoping the hair of the dog is true.
Rowan winks, and it adds an anticipation when I think about the other thing the O’Connors do well.
As if summoned by my dirty thoughts, Callahan comes walking into the kitchen, jacket and hat sprinkled with snow.
“It’s still going out there.” He starts to shake it off, but one look from Mary has him keeping his hands at his sides.
“Really, it’s snowing?” I perk up in my seat, my eyes lighting up.
“Want to come see?”
“Of course.” Happy to have an excuse to put the drink down, I rush into the bedroom to grab my jacket and scarf.
When I reach the front door, I hear Rowan yell out, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
That just causes Callahan to smirk, making me feel a little worried.
When we step out into the backyard to a world of fluffy snow covering everything, my mind goes blank.
“It’s so pretty.” Running into it, I must look like a princess about to break out in song.
I spin around with my mouth open, trying to catch a snowflake. Each one that hits my face is like a cool kiss from Mother Nature. Lost in the magic that is a white Christmas, it’s not until I hear him laughing does it register that something hit my back. I turn to see him patting together another snowball.
“Oh, hell no.” I run for the fence, scooping some snow into my bare hands as I go.
Before I can launch it in his direction, his next one hits my face. I scream, almost falling to the ground.
“You, motherfucker.” Whipping my ball, my frustration reaches a new level when he dodges it.
His laughter turns into a cackle as he lobs one right after the other at me, all hitting their mark. He is somehow a dodgeball champ and able to avoid all of mine.
“You mad?” he asks while shuffling from foot to foot and dancing around the yard. His hands clutch another ball, which he keeps holding up to taunt me.
Like a badass bitch warrior, I battle cry before I go charging at him. Shocked into freezing, he does nothing when I tackle him to the ground. I literally feel the wind get knocked out of him as I land on top of him. I’m too pissed to feel bad about it.
Not finished, I gather snow and start to pile it onto his face while laughing like a maniac.
When he finally recovers, he grabs my wrists, pulling them above our heads. Shaking his face clear, he looks up at me, his eyes warming at the same speed as my body seems to be.
“Happy now?” he asks.
“No, but at least I didn’t lose.”
He starts to sit up, and I fight the urge to wrap my legs around him. Instead, I follow suit, pulling my hands free and popping up.
