Page 45 of Terms and Traditions

“Now!” I charged the remaining ten feet towards Stephanie, flinging a snowball at her.

She scrambled backwards, her boots slipping as she tried to gain traction. But my legs were longer, and with Jackson at my back, I was shielded from oncoming projectiles. One of my snowballs hit her in the midsection, but she didn’t stop moving.

“Cheater!” someone called, but I pursued her. When she was just in front of me, she stopped on a dime, sidestepping. Then I fell. My arms flung out, snagging Stephanie on my way down.

She screamed, and I twisted to avoid landing on her. And man, that snow was deceptively hard. The air whooshed from my lungs between the impact of the ground against my spine and Stephanie half on top of my chest. Silently, I congratulated myself on the foresight to be wearing my contacts instead of my regular frames.

“You fight dirty, Steph,” I grunted when I could suck enough oxygen in. Sweet fresh air and the smell of vanilla.

Stephanie lifted her head from my chest, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Using my nephew as a shield and sweet talking me doesn’t count?”

I shrugged, one arm still wrapped around her waist. “Strategy. You tripped me after I tagged you out.”

She squawked, smacking my chest. “I did no such thing. You’re clumsy and can’t admit it.”

“That the story you stickin’ to, darlin’?” I rasped, eyes boring into hers. Daring. Our faces only inches apart.

Stephanie’s cheeks reddened, even as her eyes softened. “Maybe. I don’t hate how it ended up.” Her gaze dipped down to my lips.

She was attracted to me. I wasn’t imagining this tension between us. The way she looked at my lips. The moment Zara interrupted last night. The things I liked in Assistant and Friend Steph were the same things I liked in Girlfriend Steph. And looking into those big hazel eyes, I saw a future. My future. “Steph,” I whispered her name and cupped her cheek with my gloved hand. Her eyes fluttered shut, and I probably would’ve kissed her except—

SPLAT!

Cold. My face stung with the sharpness of a thousand needles, and I grunted when Stephanie’s elbow jammed into my ribs as she scrambled off me. I was blind, my skin burning as I tried to brush the rogue snowball off my face. But my gloved hands refused to cooperate. Another set of hands shoved mine away before gently scooping the snow from my skin.

“Who was that?” I growled, ready to rain down justice on the sneak who broke the rules and ruined my kissing plans. When I could sit up, I loosened my scarf. Man, I hated snow running down my neck.

Stephanie giggled—something I’d never heard before—her cheeks still pink. As much as I hated snow to the face, I hated our moment being interrupted even more.

“Oops,” Jackson said without an ounce of apology in his blue eyes and buck-toothed grin.

“So much for a wingman,” I muttered, standing and holding out my hand to Stephanie.

She slipped her hand in mine, letting me pull her to her feet. “Was I your mission?” she asked, glancing between the two of us and crossing her arms.

“I believe the words used were…” Leaning closer, I whispered, “Snowball seduction.” Louder, I added, “Twitterpate Auntie Steph to distraction. Right, Jackson?”

“You little sneak!” Stephanie stepped towards Jackson, but she wobbled.

I snagged her around the waist, tugging her back to my chest. “Ah, ah, careful,” I whispered in her ear, relishing the moment.

She tried half-heartedly to tug out of my loose grip, but she was too busy using me to regain her balance to offer much of a fight.

“You were hit. That means you’re frozen. Tripping is extra time.”

Stephanie scoffed, shoving at my arm. “I didn’t trip you! You fell!”

“You tripped him,” Jackson affirmed with a solemn nod, scooping up more snow and packing it into a sphere.

Stephanie pinned him with a glare. “And you face-washed my man. You better run.”

Jackson’s eyes flew open, and he dashed pell-mell across the carnage of the battlefield without a backwards glance. Clearly he considered this as no idle threat.

“Your man, huh?”

Stephanie twisted in my arms, giving my chest a light shove. “Snowball seduction?”

“Gotta take one for the team.” I shrugged. “Not that they had to twist my arm or anything.” I leaned in, since she was still tagged out. “Game on, sweetheart.”