“You gonna make it, Spells? You look cold.” Grant stood by my side, cocky as ever. He was built for this kind of weather. The man probably wore shorts in sub-zero temperatures. I was built for a sauna.
“We’re on the same team, Delaney. If I go into frozen convulsions and topple into the pool, we both lose. Aren’t you trying to beat your score from the last retreat?”
“Sunbelter’s,” he grumbled. “Weaklings with a suntan.” He clapped his palms over my shoulders. A muttered spell later, and heat radiated beneath his hands, sending warmth all the way to my toes.
I swallowed a different kind of groan. Who knew the man had Kryptonite in his fingers? Forget a sauna… I could get used to—
A snowball whizzed past my face. Grant’s grip tightened as he yanked us back a step.
“You’re going down, Delspell.” Some guy I recognized from Mistletoe Logistics hefted another snowball, then glanced at my armband defaced in permanent marker. “Or is it Spellaney? Either way, you two are popsicles.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Hit me with that thing and I’ll curse you to die alone.”
Mr. Mistletoe winced and lowered the snowball.
Grant chuckled low in my ear. “You’re savage.”
I wriggled out of his heat cocoon, irritation thick in my tone. “Like I haven’t already done that to you. Ever wonder why you’re still single?”
The heat vanished from Grant’s touch, and in the split second before he lifted his palms, a revenge-laced zing of ice shot through my veins. I shuddered and nearly nose-dived into the pool.
Lesson learned: don’t taunt the human furnace.
We climbed onto our platform and squared off against our opponents: Mr. Mistletoe and Nancy, the sweet older lady who played Mrs. Claus at holiday parties. Nancybared her teeth and jerked hard on the garland, nearly ripping it from my fingers before I’d even planted my feet.
Geez… Mrs. Claus definitely had a gym membership.
“Players ready?” Sage boomed into her bullhorn.
I shot her a glare and waved at the flakes still falling from the angry sky.
She just shrugged and leaned back in the lifeguard chair like the queen of the Arctic.Somebody save me from weather witches and their spells.She owed me a balmy breeze and a cauldron of hot spiked cider after this.
Grant was braced behind me, his stance wide. Wind and snow whipped through his hair as he clenched the garland in his fists.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked, hunching against the cold.
“Pull and don’t fall in,” he said, nodding at the ice cubes floating in the pool below.
“How strategic,” I mocked over my shoulder. “You’re going to make a brilliant leader.”
Grant cocked his head, his expression pure spite. “At least if you fall in, you don’t have to worry about getting stung by any jellyfish.” He paused just long enough to twist the knife. “In the face.”
It took every ounce of self-control not to throw the round and shove him into the pool.
Sage’s bullhorn blared the signal.
Game on.
The garland jerked, prickling my palms with pine-scented needles. I stumbled toward the edge of the platform, breath puffing white as I squinted against the snowsquall. Cheers erupted from the crowd, then turned into a roar as a snowball smacked me hard in the hip.
“Hey! That hurt!” I shouted, lurching backward to dodge another frozen projectile. My heel slammed down hard on Grant’s toes.
He hissed in a breath and shoved me forward. “I’m going to need all those toes, Spells.”
A snowball zoomed between us, splashing into the pool. My fingers slid along the slick garland.
This was chaos, and Team Mistletoe wasn’t faring any better.
