“Born and raised.”

“So, what brings you to Utah?” It seems a strange choice for a southern girl who’s never had enough snow to make even a few snowballs.

Instead of answering, she sends a second snowball careening straight toward me. It hits me right between the eyes, even stings a little. The girl is a fast learner.

I bend over and start to scoop up some snow, and she takes off through the park. She’s not used to snow, doesn’t know how to run in it, so she isn’t moving very fast. I could catch her without even trying, but instead I let her get a little ahead of me. Lull her into a false sense of security.

Sure enough, after she’s gotten twenty or so yards in front of me, she turns and looks over her shoulder. And that’s when I let her have it. I send a snowball soaring across the distance between us, then watch with satisfaction as it slams straight into her chin.

Some girls would probably get mad—kind of like Cam—but Ophelia just gives her tinkling-bell laugh, a pure, rich sound that echoes through the empty park. It gets to me, has a chill running down my spine even as my cock twitches a little. Especially when she gathers up more snow and makes a huge snowball. There’s something really sexy about a girl who knows how to play.

I don’t bother to turn around, don’t even think about dodging or running. I’m too fascinated by the laughter she makes no effort to hide and the sparkle in her normally sober eyes. I brace myself for impact, but once again this girl is full of surprises. She whirls at the last second and hurls her snowball straight at Luc.

By the time he figures out he’s about to get hit, it’s too late for him to do anything other than jump to the side. The snowball gets him in the arm, exploding into a million clumps of snow on impact.

And then, quite simply, it’s on.

The rules are simple: there are no rules. And while it may seem vicious to some, this no-holds-barred game is exactly what I need.

Since there are five of us, it starts out as pretty much every man for himself. Still, I stick close to Ophelia in case she runs into trouble. Running on snow can be treacherous, and the last thing I want is for her to slip and break a leg her first month in town. Especially when this is supposed to be about fun, not pain.

We end up running through the whole park twenty or thirty times, Ash and Luc hot on our heels the whole way. Snow is everywhere, so we have no problem making snowballs and lobbing them at the two guys whenever they get too close to us, but we focus so much attention on them that we forget to look out for Cam. Which is stupid on my part, because finding a hiding spot and then building a stockpile of ammunition is totally her modus operandi. She’s been doing it since we were kids.

Sure enough, we’re making yet another circuit of the park, trying to get to the retaining wall in the back corner so we can make our stand without worrying that someone will creep up behind us, when a volley of snowballs rains down on our heads. Cam has set herself up behind the art wall of one of the playscapes so that she’s perfectly shielded as she sends snowball after snowball flying at us. One after another, again and again and again, until we give up any attempt at fighting and instead look for a place to hide.

Ophelia tries to duck behind a teeter-totter, but it’s too exposed. As soon as we turn our attention to Cam, we’ll be sitting ducks for Luc and Ash, who are already circling.

Grabbing Ophelia’s hand, I pull her behind a large tree and flatten her against it with my body. She stiffens, but as the snowballs start flying, she figures out pretty quickly that I’m trying to protect her.

“Get down,” I shout as they start coming faster. Ash and Luc have obviously scented blood in the water, and they’re going to annihilate us if we don’t do something soon. “Start scooping up snow.”

“What’s that going to do?” she demands, even as she starts raking at the snow with her gloved hands. “They’ve got us.”

They do. I know they do. But I’m not willing to give up yet. This is Ophelia’s first snowball fight, and I started it. The least I can do is protect her if I can’t actually help her win it.

I bend down, making sure to keep her covered even as I start to scoop snow as well. “Make as many as you can,” I tell her, “But don’t throw any. Not yet.”

She turns her head, peeks over my shoulder. “You’re getting pummeled.”

“Doesn’t matter.” It’s not like I don’t spend the better part of every day surrounded by or falling into snow. Besides, Ophelia’s shivering already. If I move and she gets hit with a continual barrage of snow, she’ll probably end up with hypothermia or some such shit.

The snowballs are coming fast and furious now, one after the other, and from two different directions—Cam, who has moved out from behind the wall, is hitting us from the right, while Ash and Luc are attacking us from the left.

Which is exactly where I want them.

“How many snowballs do we have ready?” I hiss at Ophelia, bending down to look at our pile.

“Twenty or so,” she answers as she continues to scoop up snow.

Not enough, but they’re closing in. We’ll be pinned down in seconds, and then there really will be no escape. At least not without a faceful of snow.

“Get ready,” I tell her, gathering up fistfuls of snowballs.

She nods, does the same.

“On the count of three, launch everything we’ve got at Luc and Ash. Got it?”

“Yeah.” She moves from her knees to her feet but keeps low in a crouch so that I can still cover her. I like that she does that, though I don’t know why it matters.

I count off, and at three we both explode into action, lobbing snowball after snowball straight at my two best friends. It turns out Ophelia has one hell of a throwing arm, because she nails them both in the face, again and again.

When they’re both covered in ice and snow and are too busy wiping their faces to pay attention to us, I lob two last snowballs straight at them, then grab Ophelia’s hand and slip around to the other side of the tree. Shouts echo as Cam’s snowballs suddenly make contact with Ash and Luc now that we’re not in the way anymore.

We run full out across the park, bobbing and weaving, dodging snowballs and curses and laughing so hard that we nearly fall down two different times. Ash and Luc can’t keep up, though, and soon we’re closing in on the safety zone the four of us established years ago, when we were just kids.

We’re almost there, so close that I can taste victory, when Ophelia suddenly steps on a slick patch of snow and her feet go sliding out from underneath her. I try to catch her, but our legs get tangled together and we end up going down hard, together. I shift her so that I’m underneath and take the brunt of the fall while she is stretched out on top of me.

“That was—that was—” She’s laughing too hard to finish, her long, curvy body pressing itself to mine as she shakes with amusement.

Her green eyes are staring into mine and I know she expects me to laugh with her, but the feel of her body against mine is setting off another whole set of alarms, ones that have nothing to do with laughter and everything to do with sex. She feels good, really good, and as she squirms to sit up, I get hard.

It’s inappropriate and crazy and kind of unexpected considering that we’ve just been running around together like a couple of kids, but I can’t help my response. She’s right fucking there, her sex burning hot where it brushes against my cock. So hot that I can feel it through her jeans and the boarding pants I’ve been wearing ever since I took a header on the half-pipe hours ago. Luc and Cam hadn’t seemed inclined to give me time to change before going to the hospital, and with my head feeling like it had been split in half, I hadn’t been inclined to argue.

Now, however, I’m cursing them up one side and down the other. If I were in jeans, I’d be able to feel her so much better. Her heat. Her wetness. My dick actually twitches at the thought, and Ophelia’s breath catches in her throat.