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“Shouldn’t we finish the last bit of painting first?” Kerr asked as I practically dragged him down the stairs.

“No! We need to get out there before it melts,” I said, reaching the porch and pulling on my wellies.

“About two feet of snow has fallen since I came over this morning, Nisa,” he grumbled. “It’s not going to melt yet.”

“Ah, come on, you total grump,” I teased, throwing him his coat.

He rolled his eyes affectionately. “Fine.”

We bundled into all our winter gear, then headed out to the front lawn, where I immediately set to work rolling some snow to make the base of the snowman. I looked up to find Kerr watching me with a bemused look on his face. Behind him on the front step stood Izzy, eyeing the frigid snow with disdain.

“Come,” I called to Kerr, continuing to roll. “Anyone would think you’d not made a snowman before. Get cracking.”

He folded his arms. “I have made a snowman before. Just not since I was about nine years old.”

I immediately ceased my rolling to stand straight and look him in the eyes. “You’ve not made a snowman as an adult?”

“Nope.”

I moved closer, yanking his wool hat over his eyes. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

He peered from under the edge of the wool hat, arms still folded. “I grew up, that’s what.”

“Ach, come on, spoilsport,” I said, walking backward with my arms spread. “Do you wanna build a snowman?” I sang a tone-​deaf rendition of the signature song from Frozen. He smiled broadly, arms still crossed, as I sprang across the lawn. I continued to sing as I leaped into the air and landed again, holding my arms out to the sides, and he let out one of those rare and precious hearty laughs that filled me with joy. His arms fell to the sides in the process, and then he lifted them to straighten his hat.

“Right,” I said, turning back to my rolling. “You do the midsection, then we’ll sort the head.”

I heard him emit a chuckle and, as I looked over my shoulder, he was beginning to gather some snow. “Good boy,” I told him, firing him a grin and receiving a shake of his head in return.

I got the base sorted and Kerr added the midsection. “Okay,” I said, blinking as snow fell into my eyes. “You do the head and I’ll fetch some bits and pieces for his face and stuff.”

This time he didn’t argue, and I got the feeling that he was getting into the task. I gathered some pebbles from the edge of the driveway and went inside to fetch an old scarf and a carrot. When I came back outside, he’d gotten a perfectly proportioned and shaped head onto the snowman.

“That, sir, is very impressive,” I told him, handing him some pebbles. “For the buttons,” I said, when he looked at me quizzically.

We set to accessorizing Mr. Frosty, and soon enough his facial features, buttons, and red scarf were in place.

I stood back, folding my arms to admire our handiwork. “Ah, perfect.”

“Nisa. Did you want to build a snowman at your place instead of mine to give you an edge in the competition?” Kerr asked, arms folded as he arched an eyebrow at me.

“Maybe,” I said, shooting him a grin.

He chuckled. “In that case, I hope the snow thaws before the judging in ten days’ time.”

I splayed a hand to my chest in mock outrage. “How dare you!” I turned back to look at our perfectly proportioned snowman. “It’s not my fault you’re so jealous of my house-​decorating prowess. Don’t hate the player, hate the game—” But the last syllable turned into a scream as icy coldness slid down my neck.

I whipped around to find Kerr out-​and-​out grinning, having shoved some snow down my jumper. I attempted to shake it out, failing miserably. “Oh, you are going to get it for this,” I told him, eyes narrowing. He bolted across the lawn and I gave chase, hopelessly outrun by his big, muscular legs. Eventually he turned and let me catch him. I sprang onto him and both of us ended up in the snow—​him on his back and me on top. I slapped a handful of snow onto his neck and he yelped in response, grabbing my wrists and then shifting us over so he was pinning me down in an effort to prevent me from getting him with more snow, but also making me all hot and bothered in the process. He must have seen it in my eyes because his grip on my wrists tightened and he bent down to give me a hard, hot kiss. I bucked up against him instinctively, swiping my tongue and deepening the kiss. I liked the way he obliged me, his tongue answering mine, even though making out on my front lawn in the snow probably wasn’t a public display of affection that would come that naturally to my reserved Kerr. All our public kisses thus far had been strictly minimal tongue.

He broke off to rest his forehead against mine, breathing a little heavier than before. “You do things to me, Nisa Caitlyn Ansari.”

“Like what?” I asked, knowing full well but wanting to hear him say it.

“Like make me want to build snowmen when I haven’t since I was a kid, or have a snowball fight. To kiss you on your back on your front lawn where anyone can see how much I want you. And also, like this,” he says, rolling his hips so that the hardness under his jogging bottoms pressed into my inner thigh. He sighed. “And the latter is just from one kiss.”

I smiled. “I like that I do those things to you.”