Page 33 of Beau

“Chicken?” She hit him again, this time in the face. The shock of the ice on his skin stunned him for a minute and had him blinking.

“Darling? Did I hurt you?” Her voice was contrite as she rose and started toward him.

He took that opportunity to scoop snow and balled it into his fist.

“Beau, what–” The words died on her lips as he smashed the snow directly on her face.

His roar of laughter echoed in the early morning when he saw the stunned look on her face.

The laughter died as she spun around and raced toward her arsenal. “You are so going to regret that," she cried.

Before he could lunge for cover, she was pelting him with the balls she had heaped in front of her, hardly giving him time to ward off the attack.

He found cover behind the trunk of a huge oak tree and rapidly built his own weapons.

Within minutes, shrieks and laughter echoed around the vast ground as the couple pelted each other with ice.

“Cry uncle!” he growled, covering her body with his and smashing a handful of snow in her face.

“Uncle!” she gasped.

“Who is your boss?”

When she hesitated, he scooped up more snow threateningly.

“You!”

“Damn right.” Bending, he kissed her roughly, before tenderly wiping the ice from her face.

“Are you cold?”

“No. And I am not leaving until we build the snowman.”

“Then let’s get to it.”

Moments later, they stood wrapped in each other’s arms as they surveyed their handiwork.

“What do you think?” His chin was resting on top of her head.

“I think you are somewhat depraved.”

“Why? Because I was creative?” He scoffed.

“That’s a snow monster. What’s with all the twigs sticking out of its abdomen? And one of the raisins above the other like a- a–”She gestured with one slender hand gloved in ice pink as she sought to find the proper word for what they were staring at. “It’s creepy.”

“It’s a work of art.”

Lifting her head, she cast him a dubious look. “You are not an art lover, are you?”

He gave her a lofty look. “My paintings, the sculptors– the paintings–”

“You said paintings twice.”

“I know.” He kissed her full on the lips. “Besides I am friends with a famous painter and a sculptor.”

“That doesn’t count. Still says it’s weird.”

“It’s magnificent," he concluded. “Now, darling of mine, it’s getting cold as hell–”