Page 71 of Snowbound with the Santas

“You don’t have to,” I say hoarsely, battling a rising wave of emotion.

Nick sets a mug of coffee down in front of me while Archer takes over the frying pan and starts dishing up breakfast.

“We don’t have to,” Nick agrees, “but we want to. In case it escaped your notice, we care about you, Rayne, and you said you love Christmas. I think we all do, in our own ways, and your being here has just prompted us to stop being lazy about it.”

“More than that,” Archer says as he places a plate of powdered scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me. “You make it worthwhile.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” I laugh and dab quickly at the corners of my eyes as tears threaten to overwhelm me. I’ve dreamed of a lot of family Christmases over the years and even yearned for the simple sights I’d see on the television adverts.

And this? This is perfect. A breakfast surrounded by the people I care about, with Christmas music croaking from the old stereo, and the backdrop of lights and glitter in the lounge.

It’s almost like we’re a family.

“Don’t cry,” Frankie says, taking my hand. “You look so beautiful, and I don’t know a lot about it, but I’m pretty sure tears will ruin your mascara.”

I laugh and squeeze his hand back. “It would be good tears, I promise.”

Frankie leans over and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, then Nic squeezes my shoulder.

“Eat up,” Nick encourages as he sits beside me. “You’re going to need your energy.”

“For what?” I ask as I dig in. Either it’s the mountain air or all the energy it takes just to walk through the snow, but my appetite has been amazing since arriving here.

“Snowman building contest!” Frankie declares, nearly knocking Archer’s plate out of his hand when he raises his arms.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Archer says, and from his tone, it definitely wasn’t his idea.

“It’ll be fun.” Frankie grins over his fork. “Unless you’re terrible at building snowmen, in which case you’ll have fun staring at my masterpiece.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Nick replies, stabbing at his eggs. “You’ve never seen me in the zone!”

What follows are the best ninety minutes of my entire life. Archer, Nick, and Frankie all immediately dive into the snow with such comical enthusiasm that it distracts me from my own task for a good few minutes. I’ve watched these men work countless times, whether it be de-icing the generator, climbing the tower, or chopping wood, but building snowmen? It’s a whole other thing entirely. Halfway through rolling up a massive hunk of snow, Archer tears off his jacket and works in just his undershirt.

The Santa hat stays on, though, and it’s endearing to see the once-grumpy, stoic man embrace something so sweet and festive.

Nick and Frankie are much the same in how they work until Frankie tries to haul a second ball of snow on top of his first one and Nick shoves him down onto the snow. Play fighting ensues between the two, and I use the distraction to try and sabotage Archer’s snowman, but he catches me in the act and throws me down into the snow with a laugh.

The cold doesn’t exist out here now. There’s just laughter, tickling, kissing, and cheeky threats about who has the best building skills. Archer pins me for a good few minutes before making me swear not to touch his snowman.

The timer goes off at ninety minutes, and four snowmen stand proudly around the woodshed.

Well, three and a half. My snowman is more like just a ball of snow with twigs for arms and a wonky face. As the others stand back to admire their work, there’s stifled laughter when all attention lands on my ball.

“Rayne,” Nick says, fighting to keep the amusement out of his voice, “what happened?”

I send him a playfully sharp look. “Okay, this whole thing started with an unfair advantage! You three are built like trucksand a lot stronger than I am, okay? I couldn’t haul the snow around like you guys can.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Frankie tuts, stalking past. “Spoken like a true loser.”

I go to shove him, and he catches me by the waist, pulling me in with a laugh and swallowing down my playfully irritated grumble with a kiss. His lips are cold, but with a racing heart and the exertion of building a snowman, I’m plenty warm.

“Okay, so I’m clearly the winner,” Archer says, walking toward his towering, three-stacked-high snowman that has large stick arms, stones for eyes, and a smile. He even used a stick to carve into the snow and make it look like his snowman is wearing a jacket.

“Are you serious?” Frankie releases me into Nick’s arms and moves toward his snowman. “Mine is the winner by miles!” While only two stacks high, Frankie’s wood carving skills shine through in a snowman that’s smoothly molded together with a carved face and twig arms that make it look like its hands are on its hips.

“If you don’t have eyes, sure.” Nick snorts. “My snow woman is Queen.”

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