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  “What? No! I’m not dying. I mean, not anytime soon anyway. Gawd, you’re a pessimist.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were talking about a bucket list—like that movie with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson.”

  “No. No. There are just things I want to do in life, so I keep a list so I don’t forget. Anyway, I was going to say before you panicked—”

  “I didn’t panic.”

  “You panicked. Made me feel good, actually, that you’d care. But anyway. On my list is to build a snowman. So where does a bloke go around here to learn how to do that?” he asked, wearing that now familiar grin.

  “I don’t like to brag,” I said, “but I am somewhat of an expert when it comes to building snowmen.”

  Chapter 4

  “So a snowball really does collect more snow as it rolls along,” Jude said, amazement in his voice.

  I’d brought him to a nearby park and was demonstrating how to create the first of three balls that would make up the snowman. A few people were out with their dogs but other than that it was pretty deserted today.

  “Well, yeah. What’d you think?”

  “I thought it was just something that happened in cartoons. You know, like someone jumping on a trampoline and flying into outer space. Doesn’t happen in real life.”

  “Okay, I missed that one about jumping on a trampoline. But yeah, snow is not to be messed with.”

  He began packing some snow together for the next ball before I’d finished the first.

  “I probably have a pen in my backpack that we can use for the nose. Plus I’m always dropping peppermint starlights into my pack so I’ll sacrifice those for the eyes. If you don’t mind it having red eyes.”

  “Then she’ll look like me from last night.”

  “She?”

  “Yeah. I thought I’d make a snowwoman.”

  I turned toward him. “This is a public—”

  Splat!

  A snowball hit my shoulder. I very slowly dusted it off my coat, then gave Jude a hard stare. He was grinning like he was about six years old.

  “I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said.

  “You might want to rethink your strategy, Aussie, because I have a lot more snowball fights—”

  Splat!

  That one hit me right in the chest, leaving “under my belt” unsaid. Jude started dancing around like he was Rocky preparing for a comeback.

  “Let’s see what you got!” he taunted. “Let’s see what you got!”

  “Okay.” I growled low, barely moving my mouth, carefully eyeing him. I would not feel guilty for using my superior snowball fighting skills against him. I packed up a snowball, took careful aim, and flung it.

  He easily sidestepped it and laughed. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

  He bent down preparing to take another shot. I quickly moved around behind the ball I’d been rolling and knelt down. I frantically started stocking my arsenal, knowing I wouldn’t have much time, knowing he would probably only prepare one snowball.

  I heard crunching snow, but didn’t stop.

  “You can’t hide from me,” Jude said.

  I looked up and took one in the face, one in the shoulder. Clever guy had prepared one for each hand, but that was no match for my handy little soldiers.

  He cackled. I scooped one of the snowballs and flung it into his face.

  “Hey!”

  The next one hit his shoulder.

  “Here now.”

  I gathered up three and lobbed them in rapid-fire action, one right after the other. He threw up his hands and staggered back. Beginner mistake.

  “I tried to warn you!” I yelled, showing him no mercy, giving him no time to regroup.

  He was stumbling one way, then the other, trying to scoop up snow. He just flung it at me. A handful of snow. What good was that?

  “It’s futile to resist!” I yelled, going after him and pelting him with three more carefully aimed snowballs. “Face plant in the snow and surrender!”

  Laughing, he tumbled onto his butt.

  “That’s not a face plant.”

  He jumped back up. “I wasn’t surrendering.”

  He scrambled toward the jungle gym, fell down, struggled back up, and finally made it to cover, crouching behind the slide. I was scooping and packing snow as I went, cradling the balls in the crook of my arm, held against my chest.

  I leaped around the slide, fired away. He lobbed his measly attempt at a snowball at me and raced out from cover. I followed.

  When we were clear of the slide, he spun around, lowered his shoulder, and charged.

  I screamed and—like a novice—dropped my snowballs and ran.

  He tackled me and we both went down, laughing.

  “It’s futile to resist,” he said in a low voice near my ear. “Where did that come from? Darth Vader?”

  Breathing heavily, I turned my head, pressing my cheek to the snow. “I think so.”

  “You have mad snowball fighting skills.”

  “I tried to warn you.”

  “Still, I won.”

  “No way! You cheated.”

  “What? There are rules in a snowball fight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “There are no rules in love or war.”

  He rolled off me, stood up, then extended his hand. I sat up, took it with a two-handed grip, and yanked. He lost his balance and fell face first. I was straddling his back before he knew what hit him.

  “Admit it. I won,” I demanded.

  “Are you competitive or what?”

  “I am competitive. I have a four-point-oh G.P.A.”

  He tried to buck me off, but I clung to him. Gave no quarter.

  Laughing, panting, he gasped. “All right. You won.”

  I bounced off him, stood up, and did a couple of quick victory jumps.

  He rolled over and extended his hand. “Help me up.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and studied him.

  “Oh, all right.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll bet I can build a better sand castle than you.”

  I nodded graciously. “Yes, you probably can.”

  He pointed to the one remaining large ball. “Let’s get back to that, shall we?”

  “Sure.” I extended my arm. “After you.”

  “Nah. I learned my lesson. I will not engage you in another snowball fight. It was fun though. Can’t do that with sand.”

  We started trudging across the park, back to where we’d been.

  “So,” he said. “A pencil for her nose, candy for her eyes. What about her mouth?”

  “Did I not say I was somewhat of an expert at building snowmen?”

  “You did.”

  “Then leave it to me.”

  Holding plastic cups of hot chocolate, we sat on the back of a metal bench, our feet on the seat, studying our creation. I was in the bad habit of just dropping my change into my backpack and we’d found enough pennies to give our lady a smile. She actually turned out looking pretty good, especially with my neck scarf draped around her. Jude had given her a modest shape, not too risqué for an area where children came to play.

  “You know what she needs?” Jude asked.

  “Some heels?”

  He laughed. “No, a dog.”

  I swiveled my head around to study him. “A dog?”

  Nodding, he took a sip of his hot chocolate. A little shop was nearby. Everyone stopped there coming to or going from the park. They did quite a brisk little business.

  “I’ve never heard of a snow dog,” I confessed. “I guess if we made it sitting or laying down…” I couldn’t quite picture it.

  “I was thinking a poodle. ’Cause they’ve got all those little furry pom-pom-looking things on them.”

  “I still think it needs to be sitting. You need all the weight on the bottom.”

  “All right. Let me think about that for a minute, see if I can get it in my mind.”

  I couldn’t believe how se