his own.
Just the base snowball he rolled was as tall as Ana. When he was finally done, the snowman he’d built—more like a snow behemoth—was even taller than Broxen himself.
It was also more crooked than their little Christmas tree, and its head was nearly the same size as its middle.
After they used rocks for eyes, mouths, and buttons, carrots for noses, and sticks for arms, their snowmen were complete.
“Not bad for a first timer,” Ana said, one hand on her hip as she inspected Broxen’s creation, “but you need to work on your basics.”
“I think it’s good,” Broxen replied with a frown. He crouched down, scooped up a handful of snow, and tossed it at Ana. It struck her coat with a soft piff.
She gasped, her expression one of pure shock and insult. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Gabriela grinned, packed her own snowball, and threw it at her daughter, striking her in the shoulder. “Maybe you should be a little nicer.”
“It’s on!” Ana declared.
Unlike the forest battlefield where they’d had their first snowball fight with Broxen, there was little cover in his front yard, and the three of them were coated in snow in short order. Broxen finally retreated to take shelter behind his snowman, the only thing big enough to shield him.
“No fair,” Gabriela called.
Broxen leaned to the side to look at her. “How?”
The snowball she threw—a soft, powdery one—hit him in the face, bursting into a cloud that left him looking like he’d dunked his head in a bag of flour.
“That’s not fair,” he said, shaking his head to shed excess snow. “You’re playing—”
A snowball from Ana zipped past his ear, prompting him to duck behind the snowman again. He muttered something. Though Gabby couldn’t be sure what it was, it sounded an awful lot like devious females.
“You can’t hide forever,” Ana shouted.
“My snowman will protect me,” Broxen replied. As he shifted his position, one of his legs jutted out from behind the snowman.
Gabriela hit the toe of his boot with another snowball, and he yanked it back into cover. They’d reached a point that so many snowball fights often came down to—the stalemate. But she refused to accept it. There was only one way to end this properly.
She looked at her daughter. “Ana.”
Ana turned her head toward her.
“Dogpile,” Gabby said.
Ana grinned. “Yes!”
“What’s that?” Broxen asked.
“Charge,” Ana cried, racing toward the big snowman.
Smiling so wide her cheeks hurt, Gabriela ran alongside her daughter. They split apart when they reached Broxen’s snowman, rounding it on opposite sides. Broxen, who’d been kneeling atop the snow, darted his gaze from Ana to Gabriela just before they leapt atop him.
His eyes widened in surprise a split second before he fell backward and threw his arms around them with a playful growl, sinking into the snow beneath him. That growl quickly gave way to laughter.
“Your attack failed,” he declared, “and now I’ve captured you both.” He pressed his cold face against Gabby’s neck and snarled.
Gabriela giggled at the vibrations it caused—and at the bolt of desire it sent through her. She shrieked when his tongue flicked her skin an instant before he stroked his lips over the spot. “Broxen!”
“Mmm,” he purred and loosened his hold on Gabriela.
For a minute or two, they lay on the snow, catching their breath. That as all it took for the cold to truly settle in. Ana was the first to start shivering, but Gabriela wasn’t far behind. With a grunt, Broxen said it was time to head in. They disentangled from one another, stood up, and wiped snow from each other’s clothes before hurrying into the house.
They all quickly changed into dry clothes, Broxen lit the fire, and Gabriela headed into the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. With steaming mugs in hand, all three of them sat on the couch. Ana selected a movie to watch—Elf.
Though Gabriela could tell some of the jokes went clear over Broxen’s head, he laughed and smiled throughout most of the movie—though his hardest laughter came when Ana, in a totally serious voice, asked if they could have spaghetti with maple syrup, marshmallows, toaster pastries, and chocolate for dinner.
Gabriela gave her daughter that are you for real look, barely suppressing a shudder. Her teeth ached just thinking about eating something like that. “Heck no, girl.”
But she couldn’t hold in her own laughter when Broxen, suddenly just as serious as Ana had been in her initial request, looked at Gabby and asked, “Why not? Looks good.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I am