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“You two think this is funny?” Declan asked as he trudged out into the snow. He bent at the waist to grab a handful. With only a quick glance in Chris’s direction, Declan tossed the small ball with eerie accuracy, hitting his son’s hip. Before Natalie could react, a lightly packed ball slammed into her arm and exploded in her hair.
“Hey! Dad, no fair!” Chris yelled as he took off, the deep snow causing him to fall as his dad hit him again in the center of his back.
Another snowball nailed Natalie’s upper thigh before she, too, moved for cover. Her legs were longer than the six-year-old’s, so one at a time, she pulled her knees up high and ran toward the trees at the edge of the yard.
“Natalie hit you. Not me! I’m on your team!” Chris announced as Natalie glanced back to see Declan helping Chris to his feet.
“Traitor!” Natalie chuckled, taking cover behind a thick tree.
She waited for the attack, but after a minute of silence, she peeked around one side and came face to face with a grin that almost knocked the breath out of her.
The grump knew how to smile?
Declan’s usual gruff expression was hot. But when the man smiled, he was all sparkling eyes, white teeth, and full lips. Her stomach flipped, sending an unexpected shock up her spine.
“You’re in trouble,” he growled.
“Get her, Dad!” Chris yelled.
The command had Declan turning to his son. Natalie took the chance to run. But she’d only taken two steps when muscular arms circled her waist and pulled her against the hard wall of his chest.
“Got ya.” His breath danced against her ear, sending a shiver coursing through her. He chuckled as he lifted her feet inches off the ground.
“Put me down.” Natalie squirmed, to no avail. His grip stayed firm.
“No can do, Goldilocks. My team is counting on me.” Each warm exhale bounced against her neck as they moved. “Get ready, Chris.”
How much more ready could he be? Chris guarded a pile of snowballs, jumping up and down with the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face. As they came close, he hurled one ball after another at them. The first two hit Natalie in the legs.
“Step and throw,” Declan corrected after two misses.
“Giving him pointers on how better to hit me?” Natalie ducked so Chris’s next shot hit Declan instead. The man chuckled as his son’s last snowball pelted into her upper thigh.
The strong arms that had her pinned tight against his chest loosened, and Declan stepped back and pressed his lips together, almost like he was fighting a smile. “I think it’s safe to say I won. And as the winner, I say it’s time to get out of this cold, wet crap.” Declan turned and headed toward the mudroom entrance.
“You throw balls for a living, Dad. Of course you won. But since I’m on your team, I won to.” Chris ran to catch up to his dad and held up a gloved hand for a high-five as Natalie trudged behind.
“You get paid to throw balls? How does that work?” She tilted her head when Declan scoffed. Both turned, and two sets of eyebrows rose as dad and son shook their heads at her, their expressions and movements comically identical, like they’d rehearsed this routine.
“I’m the third baseman for the Metros.”
Sports ball talk. No wonder she wasn’t getting it.
“You know…New York’s baseball team?” Chris stepped through the door and stomped the snow off his boots.
“Oh.Baseball.” Natalie supposed she’d heard of the team. They had almost won the big contest thing last year. Was it the huge bowl thing? Or was it the big cup one?
“Not a baseball fan?” Declan asked as he shut the door and locked away the cold air.
Natalie unzipped her jacket and hung it up. “Sports and I took a break after my divorce.”
Declan’s eyebrows rose. “You were married?”
“And she has a girl who is littler than me,” Chris added, kicking off his boots. “Her name is Addy, and she loves to help cook, just like I do.”
“She’s with her dad this week?” Declan asked.
The reminder sent an ache through her chest. She was glad Addy was having a fun week, but she missed her. Declan’s gruff expression softened infinitesimally when he lifted his hand to her shoulder and gave her a firm squeeze, his heat pressing through her sweater.
