Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
“Got you, Lennox,” she taunts, which sounds funnier in her French accent.
“No! Say it isn’t so.” Dramatically the man crumples to the ground, and she races over and stands above him smiling, a hunter with her kill. I recognize him as a veterinarian from the city with an online series called The Hot Vet, but he’s originally from this town.
My focus returns to Aurora briefly and then to my teammate who’s just packed another snowball.
“Her left side is her weak one. She doesn’t cover it,” I whisper to Fable, who nods crisply, then sprints toward the baker, ready to act. With a quick and precise aim, she lets loose a beautiful shot straight to Aurora’s left shoulder.
And damn…Fable shoots as well as she lays fake rhinestones on shirts. She knocks Aurora to the ground, but then her father pops up like he’s in Whac-A-Mole.
That won’t do.
I aim, tossing a snowball right into his leg. He tries to dodge it but he’s not fast enough. I take him out cleanly, and he groans loudly, “Are you kidding me? No way. How could you do that to the father of the bride?”
Yup, he steals the limelight. But I got him good, and it serves him right for hurting his wife when they were together. And for hurting Fable and her sister too.
I check to the side, then dart out, grab Fable’s arm, and haul her back behind the fort, providing protection from anyone left—two people specifically. Brady and Iris.
Fable’s breathing hard, her cheeks pink from the cold and the exertion, and she looks stunning. I swipe some of her hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Snowflakes cling to her dark lashes and her cheeks are flushed with the thrill of the snowball fight. Her competitive spirit is my kryptonite. No, that’s not true. She’s my kryptonite.
But there’s no time to linger on my thoughts—not when Brady sneaks out from behind his fort with mischief glinting in his eyes. Iris advances the other way. A surge of protectiveness rushes through me, and my focus sharpens. Without hesitation, I grab a handful of snow and pack it tightly into a snowball. “You get her. I’ll get him,” I tell Fable.
“On it.”
I am not letting him win. No way. Not now.
She darts around the side, and pummels Iris with a snowball. Yes! Now it’s my shot. With a swift motion, I rise up, run around the fort, and cock my arm back. I let the snowball fly toward Brady. It sails through the air with precision, hitting him square in the chest. He stumbles backward, shock etched across his face, and then he topples to the ground, whining like the icy missile hurt him.
“Ouch. That was foul play!”
“Was not,” Fable shouts, popping up, clearly ready to give him a piece of her mind.
I grab her arm, hold her back. “Let him whine.”
“A shot that close has got to be against the rules,” Brady moans from the ground as Iris rushes over to tend to his non-wounds while Sheriff Alejandro Hardick trundles across the snowy park, approaching the whiny brat. The sheriff’s a sturdy man, with a touch of Texan in his voice and a no-bullshit attitude.
“Hate to break it to you, tough guy, but that was well within the rules. Better luck next time,” says Hardick, who’s never suffered fools.
“Not fair,” Brady pouts.
“All’s fair in games and Christmas. Try to be a good sport,” the sheriff admonishes then heads over to join the man who’s presiding over the Evergreen Falls Annual Best in Snow Winter Games Competition. That’s Dan Bumblefritz, the town’s mayor who owns the North Pole Nook and Tavern on Main Street with his wife and who loves all things Christmas and competition. He has thick black hair poking out of a Santa baseball cap. They confer quickly, then Mayor Bumblefritz nods and marches across the snowy park toward us with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “The winners of the first event in the Evergreen Falls competition are…” He stops and asks our team name. We tell him and he grabs my wrist in one hand, Fable’s in the other, then thrusts our arms in the air. “The Reindeer Gamers.”
From the edge of the field, Leo and Charlotte cheer. So do Doctor Lennox and Aurora, Caroline and the others too, including Bibi and Sheriff Hardick.
Brady just pouts.
Serves him right.
When Mayor Bumblefritz lets go of our wrists, Fable and I exchange victorious grins as we turn toward each other.
Fable’s triumphant laughter fills the air around us, a sound that I like far too much. And I feel a little victorious, too, in a whole new way. Making her come was one thing. Winning for her is entirely another, and I want to keep doing both. But the more I bend, the more I’ll break, and then what will be left of me come January? When I return to my regular life? To my business and my daughter?