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“Oh, I don’t mind. I like the snow. There’s something about Christmas that makes it magic.” She did a twirl as she hummed along to “I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” and sashayed out of the kitchen.
Yep, she was quirky and maybe a bit crazy. He’d have to be careful, because she was the type of woman that could leave him utterly screwed.
7
“Now takethe scarf and wrap it around its neck.” Natalie stepped back, examining the less than stellar work of art. Although built with love—and a lot of enthusiasm—some basic aspects, like arms, were missing. Not to mention it was so tilted it looked like it could fall over at any moment. “At home, Addy and I would put buttons down the front of him. And a carrot for his nose. But the pine cone works.” She chuckled, shaking her head. They got points for effort, right? “Props to us for improvising.”
“What does that mean?”
“Improvising?” She pursed her lips. “Hmm. It’s like getting creative. Finding other ways to do something.”
“Oh. Like the pretzel buttons. That was cool improvising.” His smile was blinding as the big word came out of his mouth. “Dad’ll think we did awesome.”
Natalie had wondered if Declan would join them. She’d hoped he might at least come help stack the heavy snowballs, but he hadn’t even poked his head out the door in the hour they’d been working on the snowman. Her fingers were starting to go numb, but Chris hadn’t complained yet.
“Are the big snowballs the same as the little ones?” Chris asked.
“Huh?”
“Like—if I wanted to have a snowball fight, would I make them the same way?” he asked. Although his smile looked innocent, Natalie knew to be careful. She wasn’t big on getting pelted by snow. Her brother had done that a few too many times to her growing up. But that meant she knew some tricks.
“How about I teach you how to make snowballs, and we’ll take turns throwing them at the front door? Let’s aim for the middle of the wreath and see who can get the most bull’s-eyes.”
Chris’s head bobbed up and down vigorously. “I’m so good at throwing. Dad says I have the arm of a pitcher. And Marc even agrees.”
“Marc?” Natalie asked.
“Yeah, he’s the one who helps Corey throw stuff better,” Chris said like that explained anything.
“Corey?” Natalie asked.
“He’s the most popular guy at Dad’s work. Even if Ryan hates it.”
Natalie cocked her head to the side and blinked, trying to make sense of it. “Your dad sounds like he has an…interesting job.”
Chris shook his head. “Peoplealwayssay that.”
Apparently, Natalie wasn’t the only one at a loss for what to say about Chris’s dad’s job.
“Since you throw so well, how about you go first?” she suggested before showing him how to ball up the snow.
He packed it tight before sending it flying toward the door, hitting right below the wreath. A white splatter of sleet shot into the air as the ball exploded into powder, leaving a trace behind on the red door.
“Great shot! Your dad’s right. You do have a good arm. Okay, my turn now.”
Natalie packed the snow and then tossed it at the door. But before the snowball could make what would have been a direct hit to the center of the wreath, the door opened, and Declan’s face appeared.
The icy ball of snow headed straight for him. And before she could even open her mouth to warn Declan, it slammed hard into his cheek, blasting snow not only across his face and into his dark hair but down his gray coat.
His rich brown eyes popped against the white dusting of ice crystals as his mouth went slack.
“You hit Dad.” Chris laughed. “That’s like a super bull’s-eye!”
Natalie bit the inside of her cheek, trying hard to contain her own amusement at the wide-eyed shock on the grump’s face.
Declan shook his head, sending crystals shooting off his beard and hair and leaving a salt-and-pepper look to his normally brown locks.
“I guess you don’t have to ice your cheek today.” Chris laughed so hard Natalie barely caught the words, but she still winced at the reminder of the nasty bruise she’d given Declan.
