***

Early the next morning, Ian and his kin still weren’t able to move Calla’s car because of the snowdrift. Calla just hoped that Baird and his men couldn’t move her car, either.

The fir trees were still covered in the soft, wet flakes, and the rising sun peered through the white clouds, coloring everything soft shades of yellow and pink. Calla was invited to join the fun of a snowman-building contest before the snow melted too much.

Bundled in coats, scarves, hats, and gloves, pack kids and adults alike were busy building snowmen in the parklike setting beyond the castle walls. Some of their Irish wolfhounds were playing in the snow too, biting at it, rolling in it, and acting as though they’d never seen the stuff before.

Ian and Duncan were constructing a snowman with their mates, when Cearnach stole their head for his, Elaine’s, and Guthrie’s creation. Getting the biggest kick out of it, Calla watched along with everyone else as Cearnach raced back to Guthrie and Elaine with the snowman’s head in his gloved hands.

“Hurry, Cearnach!” Elaine and Guthrie cheered.

“Stop him, Ian!” Julia threw the first snowball at Cearnach in lighthearted retaliation, smacking him in the back. Everyone was laughing.

Ian pelted Cearnach with the next snowball, shouting, “That was only practice. The next head will be even better.”

Calla had been helping Logan, the teen who took care of the dogs, and some of the other teens, to make a snowman, but with snowy missiles coming from all directions, the snowmen were forgotten. From the youngest to the oldest clan member, the battle was on.

As good-natured as both Ian and Cearnach were as the male leaders of the pack, they were bombarded the most. Julia was the female leader of the pack, but Calla noticed that nobody targeted her, probably not wanting to earn Ian’s wrath if anyone accidentally hurt her.

Barking, the dogs chased after the flying balls of snow.

Calla hadn’t ever participated in anything like this with a wolf pack, and she couldn’t stop laughing. Her stomach hurt as she gathered up more snow.

She formed a nice-sized ball and threw it at Cearnach. When he moved out of her path, her snowball smacked Guthrie in the forehead. He had been standing nearby, ready to pelt his brother with one. Guthrie turned to see who his attacker was. And smiled when he caught her eye.

He had the most devilishly wolfish look about him—a mixture of impending payback with a snowball and something a wee bit more intimate, like a tackle in the snow. But he wouldn’t. Not in front of his clansmen. Not when they weren’t courting. At least, she hoped not.

Cearnach was about to pelt him, but then turned to see what had stolen Guthrie’s attention. She felt like her suddenly heated body would melt all the snow surrounding her, and she quickly bent to serve up another snowball. As soon as she threw it at Cearnach again, Julia got in the way and the ball of snow splatted against her back.

She turned to see who had targeted her and found Calla grinning. “I was aiming at Cearnach,” Calla shouted over the laughs and squeals and threats of retaliation all around her.

“I’m not buying it!” Julia called back, and quickly readied her own ammunition.

Calla had never had so much fun in her life.

Guthrie was getting strong wolf vibes that Calla was interested in him. He felt the same way about her. His wolfish urges encouraged him to chase after her and tackle her—to get her back for socking him with the snowball, just for fun. If they’d been alone, he would have. He could tell from the way she was watching him that she knew just what he had in mind. Her mouth had curved up a hair, her cheeks turning rosy.

Guthrie’s gaze had strayed to her a few times. He told himself it was because she was a guest, and he was ensuring that she was having a good time and not feeling left out. He’d never seen her this way—letting her hair down, so to speak—playing with other pack members and acting as though she were just one of the family.

She’d lived away from packs most of her life, so he’d been curious how she’d fit in. He and his brothers and Julia had been concerned that she might fold under Baird’s persistence in attempting to get her back. They’d all shared the consensus that she needed to be with a pack that showed her a more supportive and loving family of lupus garous, unlike what the McKinley pack could offer her.

Even so, Guthrie was dying to get her back for that snowball. But not in front of everyone here. Sure, they were all busy playing in the snow, but still, everyone was watching out for her. Seeing to her needs. Ensuring she felt as though she belonged. He was certain that if he targeted her, and she got him back, everyone would think there was more to it than just playing.

He smiled at her as Julia threw a snowball at Calla that missed her by a mile. Grinning, Calla quickly armed herself and threw one at Julia; only it missed her too and hit Guthrie in the crotch. Good thing it was soft snow. He grinned and wiped off the snow, slowly, deliberately, wolfishly.

Calla looked like she could burst into flames, she was so red faced. He started laughing.

A half hour later, Ian called a truce so they could finish the snowmen and head inside. A few knit caps were placed on top of the snowmen, and some sticks added for arms. A couple wore plaid scarves, and one of the girls brought out a couple handfuls of carrots from the kitchen to use as noses for several of them. Buttons and stones were added to create all kinds of faces—surprised, smiling, downturned—and then it was time to eat the noon meal.

Guthrie loved this time of year. Everyone was excited—the kids, the adults, even the wolfhounds. The pack gathering to do fun activities in the snow, the decorating and preparing special meals, made it truly an extraordinary time.