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“Gotcha.” She broke into laughter but was smart enough to step back as she did so, widening the distance between them as her eyes danced with pure delight.
Cole prided himself on his quick reflexes, but he’d been distracted. Her snowball had caught him off guard.
Sophie had him off his game in just about every way possible.
“I can’t believe you did that,” he pretended to complain. That Sophie nailed him with a snowball didn’t actually surprise him, really. “You know that automatically puts you on Santa’s naughty list, right?”
He bent to scoop up a handful of snow. A big handful.
Laughing, she took another couple of steps back but didn’t look afraid. Instead, eyes twinkling with mischief, she was very clearly packing together a second snowball behind her back. He’d bet she was planning to nail him again the second he let his guard down. Did she think he didn’t realize?
“Oh, come on, Santa,” she teased. “Leave me on the nice list. You know there’s nothing like a good old-fashioned snowball fight.”
“No?” Cole arched his brow. “That means I have your permission to throw back?”
“If you’re asking my permission, then no, absolutely, not.” Her laughter threatened to spill from her smiling lips. “Don’t you dare throw snowballs back at me, Cole Aaron.”
Then she nailed him again.
While she danced a happy little snow jig in celebration of her successful aim, Cole stood his ground, not moving toward her, just waiting.
“Tell me I can fight back, Sophie.”
She quit dancing around, gathered up another handful of snow and then stared at him in wonder. “Are you seriously not going to throw any snowballs back unless I say you can?”
“That's right.”
“Well, where’s the fun in that for you?” she huffed. “Because if you think I’m going to give you permission to throw snowballs at me, you’re crazy.”
“I see.” Cole tightened his grip on the snowball in his hand. “So you intend to fight dirty?”
Sophie glanced down at the powdery white snow, then gave him a faux innocent look. “Doesn’t look like a dirty fight to me.”
“No?” He took a step toward her.
About six feet separated them. She didn’t move, just waited, tempting him.
“You should run, Sophie.”
Her eyes widened. “Because you’re going to make me face plant in the snow?”
He shook his head and took another step closer. “Tempting, but no.”
“Then why would I run?”
“Because you’re going to give me permission.”
Howling with exaggerated laughter, Sophie slapped her leg. “You must be suffering from brain freeze, because why would I do that?”
“Because you feel guilty.”
“You think I should feel guilty?”
He was a foot away from her now. “Definitely.”
“Too bad, because I don’t.”
Cole kept his gaze locked with hers, kept his voice low, steady as he said, “Give me permission to defend myself, Sophie.”
