“That’s right, Mom. Why don’t you just give up and quit now?” Isabella already had her eyes on the perfect carrot laid out on the snow in a pile surrounded by buttons, scarves, and hats.
“Not a chance.” Mom’s smile shined through crinkled eyes.
“Whoa, Mom is bringing it this year,” Norah said. “Guess we better not hold her back any longer. Alright, let’s do it. Go!”
Isabella made a beeline for the perfect carrot. Not too big and without a weird squiggly shape. But when she went for the big black buttons, Finn went for them at the same time. She had to hip check him to get her hands on them.
“Oh, you wanna play dirty, huh? Okay, it’s on.” Finn snatched Great Grandpa Whitley’s hat—which was of course the best snowman cap.
“No worries, we can still win with this.” She picked up the remaining hat, a multicolored knitted hat that Norah made years ago when she’d been learning how to crochet. It had gotten stinky over the years of sitting outside wet from the snow. Her hopes of winning dwindled in her chest.
“Ha! Yeah right!” Finn laughed and took off toward Nina who was already busying herself with a good-sized snowball.
Isabella grabbed a scarf and hurried toward Leo who was just standing there, hands on his trim hips, watching her. “Well don’t just stand there,” she sneered. “You should’ve already been working on the bottom. You know you’re the one who does the bottom while I grab the accessories. What’s wrong with you?” She groaned, pushing past him and tossing all the materials into a pile on the snow.
“Uh, what’s wrong with me is it's been a long time sincewe’vedone this.” Leo stayed frozen in place.
“Don’t start with me, Leo. C’mon, help me. We can’t let them win.” She knelt in the snow, grateful her old snow pants from her teen years still fit her, though they were a little snug over her full hips. She formed snow into a tight ball before rolling it across the yard.
Leo shrugged. “Fine. But if we win, what’s in it for me?” He followed Isabella, working on the bottom of the snowman.
“Duh. Bragging rights. Just like always.” She crumpled a handful of snow in her glove and threw it at him. He ducked, and it skimmed his shoulder.
He retaliated by crawling toward her, grabbing hold of her wrists, and pinning her to the cold ground, threatening her with a snowball to the face. She squealed, fighting against the pressure of his body against hers, her wrists caught in his grasp. It was difficult to deny the sexual tension building between them, but acting on it now, in front of her family, would not only be foolish but ludicrous.
Though when she desisted in her struggling, her body stilling, Isabella stared up into Leo’s dark brown eyes, captivated by the way he was looking at her—with intent and desire. She couldn’t pull her attention away.
“See,” Dad mumbled from somewhere in the distance, “I told you Izzy and Leo could handle being on the same team.” Then he chuckled.
Heat rushed at Isabella’s cheeks. Leo cleared his throat and released her wrists. He helped her up to a sitting position, and she adjusted her jacket. He gave her a lopsided smile before returning to work on their snowman.
Leo crouched low and pushed the ball of snow across the yard in a straight line. Dear God, how had his ass gotten even better? She scrubbed a cold, wet glove down her face.
Keeping her distance from him was going to be harder than she imagined.
Chapter Eight
Leo
Isabella huffedwhile she rolled the body of the snowman. Leo averted his eyes so he wouldn’t be tempted to appreciate how she filled out her snow pants in all the right places. With her so close, he lowered his voice and pressed her for an answer to his earlier inquiry. “Well?”
“Well, what?” She cocked her head, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulder.
“What do I get if I help us win?”
Isabella pinned him with a look. “Well, I’m definitely not gonna reward you with a kiss or a glimpse of my boobs this time, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
He exhaled a mirthless laugh. Her face pinked, and not from the cold. He’d already gotten a kiss. Got more than a look at her boobs, too.
Mr. Whitley cleared his throat, loudly and dramatically. “You two know we can hear you, right? And this isn’t something a dad wants to hear about his teenage daughter.”
Oh, if that man only knew the things his daughter had done to Leo back in the day.
“I’m surprised you care,” Isabella sneered, finishing the snowman’s body. “Since it’s Mr. Boy Wonder we’re referring to.”
Mr. Whitley ignored her.
Mr. Boy Wonder?
