She hadn’t expected him to give in so easily, but she’d take the victory. Making good on her win, she hurried off to the bathroom to change. By the time she got back, Ian was nowhere to be seen. A frigid blast of air hit her as soon as she stepped out onto the porch and reached for where the shovel had been the night before. It was gone. That’s when she spotted Ian still in those shouldn’t-be-sexy-but-were blue pants and a thick parka shoveling out his car.

Victory? More like total subterfuge!

Oh no. That is not how this is supposed to go. I’m the one who should be shoveling out my car.

She marched over, sticking to the narrow path he’d cleared between the porch and the vehicles, and held out her hand. “My shovel, please.”

He lifted it above his head where she had no hopes of reaching it unless she climbed him like a tree, which—as tempting as it was—she was not going to do because she had some pride left.

“The roads aren’t safe yet,” he said, as if that explained his overprotective-bordering-on-patronizing actions.

“What, you think I’m going to squeal off, leaving nothing but burned rubber on the snowpack?” She planted her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“Good, then I’ll clear out my car, and I’ll leave when the roads clear up so you don’t have to drive on the roads.”

She held out her hand again, just like last night when she’d checked his thumb. “Give me the shovel.”

“If you want it, you’ll have to take it,” Ian said.

Of all the high-handed things. It wasn’t fair. She was taking the high road. She was giving him the cabin. She was going to win.

“This isn’t fair,” she said.

He just shrugged.

Frustration winning out, Shelby grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it right in Ian’s face. She had three seconds of oh-shit-what-did-I-just-do making her pulse spike before he started laughing. He didn’t drop the shovel, though; he put it on the roof of his car and grinned down at her.

“Oh, you want to have a snowball fight? It’s on,” he said as he cleared the snow from his face. “You’ve got a five-second head start.”

Giddy adrenaline pumping through her veins, she took off looking for cover, bending over and scooping up a handful of snow as she went. She almost made it to the porch when a snowball landed with a thwat in the middle of her back. Turning, she let fly the half-formed one in her hand. Ian dodged it easily, but that attack gave her time to get up to the porch, which may have less snow than the yard but had better coverage.