EMILY
GETTING tipsy on whiskey and ginger ale and having a down-and-out snowball fight with a bunch of wolf shifters and their families is not how I predicted how I'd spend this night.
It's even better.
I'm pretty sure everyone is being extra-gentle when it comes to throwing snowballs at me, but I'll chalk that up to me being a newcomer here.
The only one who's not participating is Garrett. He's off to the side, occasionally chatting with one of his pack mates, looking over at the snowball fight in progress with an amused, indulgent look.
When our eyes meet, I swear my heart skips a beat.
I gather up a snowball in my gloved hands. Out of breath and a little giddy, I trounce through the freshly-fallen powder to get to him.
"Is the alpha of the pack too high and mighty to participate in a lowly snowball fight?" I tease.
