Page 12 of The Christmas Accomplice

Welton tottered back to the left, his knee bumping against the massive snowball he’d rolled. A muscle in his lower back snarled into an angry knot, and he gasped.

“Easy,” Reece said again.

Welton dug his fingers in deeper, and the snow crackled beneath his grip.

“Go back just a bit,” Reece said.

Welton took a shaky step backward.

“Good. Now let’s slide it over to your left and lower it slowly.”

Welton’s imagination took control, flashing images of Reece stretched out naked on his back across the king-sized bed in his cabin as Welton slowly impaled himself on the man’s hard length. Distracted by the sound of Reece’s voice and the images it conjured, Welton set his side down a bit too hard, and the snowball beneath split in half. The middle snowball dropped, obliterating any semblance of form to the base.

“Son of a—”

“Snow drift!” Reece hurriedly cut him off, tipping his head toward the young kids nearby who were giggling at their misfortune.

“Sorry about that,” Welton said, humiliation and self-loathing crawling through him. “I’m probably not the best partner for you in this activity. I’m more analytical than engineering focused.”

“Hey.” Reece gripped Welton’s upper arm tight, and his touch, even through the layers of clothing, coats, and gloves, was enough to make Welton look him in the eye. “It’s okay. We both misjudged things. It’s not that big of a deal. Let’s try it again. We’ve got time. You want to roll the base or the middle?”

“I’ll take the middle again, and I’ll keep it small.”

They got back to work. Welton kept an eye on the other participants as he pushed the snowball around. A mother and her young daughter were already draping a shawl around the shoulders of their snowperson, probably going for a snow grandma or something. An older couple was putting a sunhat and sunglasses on theirs.

A short time later, Welton rolled his snowball up next to Reece’s. This time Reece’s was bigger, and Welton had to force his brain to stop thinking about the two of them naked and sweaty and comparing balls.

“Hey, that’s great,” Reece said. “Not too big, it’s just right.”

“Like Goldilocks.” Welton wanted to plunge his head into the snow like he’d seen red foxes do on nature shows. What the hell was wrong with his brain to mouth connection? Apparently, the feed had been taken over by his dick to brain connection.

But if blurting out statements about his stackable washer and dryer and Goldilocks was supposed to be some form of flirting, well, his dick was going to have to get a lot better at it.

“Let’s get these two situated,” Reece said.

They squatted across the snowball from each other, and this time managed to pick it up and place it without incident.

“Awesome. High five.” Reece held up his gloved hand.

Welton tried not to grin like a love-bit school kid, but he couldn’t hold back as he smacked Reece’s hand.

“Do you want to roll the head or secure and shape the body?”

Jesus Christ, he’s trying to kill me.

Welton cleared his throat and gestured vaguely toward a pristine patch of snow. “I’ll, um, roll the, um, the head.”

“Awesome. I’ll work on the body.”

As Welton trudged off to fresh snow, he was just able to hear Reece say something to himself over the whisking of his snow pants rubbing together.

He’s probably cursing the fact he got stuck with you.

It didn’t take long for Welton to roll the head, and he let out a quiet “Oomph,” as he hefted it into his arms and turned to carry it back to Reece.

Reece stood next to the partially assembled snowman, hands gently moving over the middle and bottom snowballs to shape them. The sun was angled perfectly behind Reece to create a halo effect that dazzled Welton’s senses and brought him to a stop with the snowman’s head clutched to his chest.

Oh stop it, you’re being ridiculous.