Page 87 of Pick Yourself Up
Nash’s boy would love this place. He could see the gardens covered with snowmen.
Which sounded like a good idea.
Gray unlocked the inn’s doors and dealt with the security system. He switched out his boots for the moccasins they kept there, then went in search of Amber. He found her sitting on the floor in their back living space, surrounded by boxes and picture frames and more.
Boomer woofed his welcome and Amber looked up with a smile. And a wince.
She stretched, and he rushed to help her clamber to her feet. She kissed him before she laughed. “I feel like I’m a hundred and two. I think I’ve been sitting in one spot too long.”
“More treasures?”
“So many. I’ve got photos, notes, and stories. I think I’m going to make cards for the rooms detailing some of the stories. There are even letters from people’s grandparents that could be framed and used.”
Her eyes lit up as she talked. His woman loved her own family, of course, but she also loved the idea of family. Her joy in hearing other people’s stories was part of what made her an asset in the world of hospitality.
And in life. “Ready for a break?”
Her eyes sparkled. “With you? Always?”
He laughed and tugged her back to the front door. “Come on.”
Soon they were dressed in their boots and jackets with mittens. They locked up the inn, and Gray took her hand and pointed to Boomer. “To the gardens, Boomer. We’re making a snowman.”
Amber’s laugh was full of delight. “Great idea. I haven’t made a snowman since we lived with Fox.”
“You’ll have to show me how.”
“You’ve never made a snowman?”
The shock on her face had him grinning again. “Not even once. Show me the way, boss.”
The snow wasn’t thick, but they were soon rolling small snowballs into long pathways, making them larger as they gathered more and more of the snow.
“Start farther away from where you want to end up. That way, we don’t have to heft the snowballs too far when they’re ready to stack.”
He was shoving a large snowball towards Amber when a snowball thwacked him in the head.
He looked up to find Amber laughing, and Boomer bouncing like it was the best game.
“You’re going down, lady.”
She grinned and tossed another snowball his way. He realized she’d made a small stack in preparation before her attack.
Laughing, he dodged the snow and gathered some of his own.
She was faster, and another one tagged his shoulder, making her laugh as loudly as he’d ever heard. He’d be thrilled to be her target forever if she could be this happy and relaxed.
Finally, he caught her arm with one, making her laugh louder. Boomer raced between them, leaping at the snowballs and snagging them when they were low enough.
She must have stacked a whole pile because she got in two or three throws for every one of his.
When she was out, she reached down to scoop up more snow, and he took advantage, racing her way with a pile of snow he tried to pack as he moved.
She looked up and, with a shrieking laugh, she abandoned her snow and ducked behind one of the large snowballs they’d made for the snowman.
He raced around and scooped her up, then ran toward the largest stack of snow he could find.
He tossed her lightly into the pile and then followed her down, Boomer racing around them, tail wagging.
