A Cunningham Christmas Read Online Free

cold flakes fluttered down over her, but now I have a better idea. I tighten my fingers, packing the snow together in my fist.
    I wait until he’s only about ten feet away, when I’m sure I can’t miss. And then I pull back my arm and chuck the snowball at him as hard as I can. It hits him square in the jaw, and the look on his face is priceless.
    Both Lily beside me and Calder—who’s not too far behind Ward—burst into laughter. Ward’s grin turns wicked, and then he bends over and scoops up his own handful of snow.
    Quickly, I grab Ramona from the ground next to me and hold her against my chest.
    “You can’t throw that at me,” I say. “I’m holding the baby.”
    He laughs and shakes his head. “Using our daughter as a shield…”
    “She’s not a shield,” I insist, snuggling her closer. “She just looked cold.”
    “ Mm-hm . I’m sure.” His eyes are gleaming. “Or maybe you’re just a coward.”
    “A what ?”
    “A coward.” He stops a few feet in front of me, his freshly packed snowball resting casually in his palm. “Or do you prefer the word ‘chicken?’ ”
    He did not just call me that.
    I look down at the squirming little angel in my arms and realize there’s only one way to settle this.
    “Lily,” I say, “will you take Ramona for a minute?”
    “Of course,” Lily says, clearly amused by this whole thing.
    I pass my gurgling, wiggling daughter into her arms and climb to my feet—making sure to grab a fistful of snow on my way up. Ward’s still grinning, but he doesn’t immediately throw his snowball at me. Instead, he seems to be waiting to see what I’ll do.
    My hand is behind my back. I only managed to grab a little bit of snow, but I tighten my fist and compact it until it’s more or less a snowball. My eyes never leave his. I don’t know whether he saw me grab more ammunition, but his expression gives nothing away. He’s perfectly still.
    Well, it looks like I’m going to have to make the first move.
    I hurl my snowball at him. A split second after I move, he throws his own snowball at me.
    The icy blob hits me right where my neck meets my shoulder. It explodes, and though half of it ends up on my coat, the other half somehow finds its way inside my scarf. I wince as icy slush starts to trickle down inside my sweater.
    Ward’s laughing. My snowball hit him right in the middle of his chest, but it didn’t seem to do much. I immediately bend over and grab more snow—much, much more this time—but Ward does the same. I have to start playing defense. As soon as I have the snow I need, I turn and run.
    His footsteps follow me immediately. I shape the snow in my hands as I bolt across the yard, but I’m not sure I’m going to be fast enough. But there’s a huge oak ahead, and if I could just reach—
    SPLAT!
    His snowball hits me dead in the back. I keep running. I don’t know what else to do. But when I reach the tree, I twist and pitch my snowball right back at him. And I couldn’t have asked for a better shot.
    He’s bent over, gathering more snow, and my missile hits him right on the top of his head. White powder explodes in his hair, and though he stands and shakes his head, slush still clings to the auburn strands.
    I laugh and duck behind the tree before grabbing more snow. Now it’s war.
    When I have enough snow, I straighten and stand with my back against the oak, waiting for him. My breath is a cloud in the air, and my fingers are starting to go stiff with cold beneath my wool gloves, but I keep the snowball at the ready.
    A minute passes. Two.
    I hear no snowballs hitting the trunk behind me. No boots crunching through the snow. In the distance, Ramona squeals, but there’s no sound from Ward. Is he waiting for me to grow impatient and peek around the tree?
    Well. If that’s the case, then he’s going to be waiting a long time.
    I shift my weight and turn my head slightly, trying to pick up on any sound from the other side of the tree. I hear