The last thing Max wanted to do was worry Elena.

He stomped his feet at the entrance to their cabin, shaking the snow off his boots. The damn stuff was caked to his legs, his arms, his head. Two feet of heavy snowfall had a way of sticking in the most unlikely places, and the less Elena saw of it, the better it would be for all of them.

Two feet of overnight accumulation wasn’t enough to cause him anxiety, especially not in a mountain setting like this one, but the fact that it was still coming down and showed no signs of abating was worth note. He was going to have to head out again in the afternoon to clear the roadways. Another night like this one, and he might have to start thinking about evacuation procedures.

Considering how Elena had reacted during the drive back to the ranger’s cabin last night, she wouldn’t take the news well. One minute she’d basically looked him in the eyes and asked him to fuck her against a table, the next she’d been shaking and white, unable to unclench her jaw for the entirety of the drive.

Max might not have any psychology degrees, but that seemed like the kind of fear that meant something. He certainly hadn’t been able to erase that table image so easily, of Elena’s naked hips in his hands, of the curve of her waist and smooth lines of her back bowing to his command. Nothing short of a full avalanche—a very cold, very long avalanche—could banish that.

Stephen fucking Colbert.

Which was why it came as such a surprise to be caught in the face by a snowball just as he was preparing to open the front door.

“What the—?” He whirled, looking for the source of the blow. It was difficult to see through the haze of snow that clung to his lashes, but after he wiped them away and saw no sign of anyone lurking in the distance, he decided it must have been a chunk of snow falling off the roof.

THUNK.

Or…maybe not.

“Okay, you little monster,” he called, leaping off the porch and angling his body sideways. Until he could see where Tina was throwing from, he was going to make himself as small as possible. “Where are you, and how ready are you to be demolished?”

A high-pitched squeal of delight confirmed his surmise that this was a planned ambush. His other surmise—that hiding was his best course of action—was also proven to be a good one when a third snowball whizzed past him without making contact.

“Darn it!” Elena’s voice sounded as if from a distance. “I can’t reach him from the window anymore. It’s up to you, Tina.”

A blur of bright red came hurtling around the cabin to launch a series of snowballs at him from the side. Laughing and in full awareness of the situation now, Max started scooping up handfuls of snow. Unless he was very much mistaken, Elena had stockpiled a collection of snowy projectiles and was tossing them from the window overlooking the drive. She could probably keep pelting him until they turned to slush.

“That’s a cowardly way to start a snowball fight, Villanova.” He couldn’t see the woman in question, but a snowball flew out the window to plop uselessly at his feet, so he assumed she could hear him just fine. “You know I can’t take my revenge on a seven-year-old.”

“Yes, you can, Daddy!” Tina cried. “I double-dog dare you.”

She came up to him, pink-cheeked and glowing with satisfaction. He was so transfixed by the sight of her, her happiness such an innocent and palpable thing, that he was caught unaware when she drew a hand from behind her back and struck a snowball directly to his throat. Ice slipped down his neck and into his shirt collar, but that wasn’t what took his breath away. No—it was the realization that in all the times he’d had Tina over, she’d never looked quite like that before.

Happy. Excited. Alive.

“Now you have to throw one at me,” she instructed him. “Elena said so. Otherwise, it’s not a fair fight. And no matter how scared you are, you should always fight fair.”

Max laughed as his daughter parroted her nanny’s convoluted wisdom. He and Quinn should probably worry about how much of Elena’s anxiety-riddled life views had trickled into their daughter’s still-forming brain, but he, for one, couldn’t think of a single reason why.

Because, like Tina, he suddenly felt happy. Excited. Alive.

“If that’s what Elena thinks, then it’s time she gets a taste of her own medicine.” He fell into a crouch and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “How many snowballs does she have in there with her?”

“A hundred and twenty,” Tina said with a giggle. At his look of disbelief, she added, “It’s true! We put them in the cooler. She didn’t want us to go outside while you were gone, so we scooped the snow from the back door.”

Max’s whole body shook. Elena might be terrified of the current climate conditions, but she wasn’t above putting them to good use. “Okay, then. Here’s what we have to do. You run back inside and tell her you barely escaped me.”

Tina’s bright eyes sparkled and she nodded, taking in each word. The kid had a memory like a camel.

“Then tell her I’m sneaking up from the forest, okay? From that side.” He pointed toward the opposite direction he intended to approach the window. “And then it’s time for the most important part. Shut the lid of the snowball cooler and park your bottom on top of it—and don’t get off no matter what. Got it?”

A mittened hand clapped over Tina’s mouth as she suppressed her delight.

“I’ll come up to the window from the other side with a whole bucket of snow.” More to himself this time, he added, “That’ll show her.”

Of course Tina heard it and pounced. “Show her what, Daddy?”

He looked his daughter firmly in the eye, even though he knew there was no way she could possibly understand. “That there’s some life in me yet, Peanut. That I may be old, but I’m not dead. And most importantly, that nobody gets the better of me when it comes to the snow.”

---

Elena knew something was up the moment Tina ran in through the back door, shedding snow and pine needles and the scent of fresh mountain air.

“What happened?” she asked, wishing for what had to be the ten thousandth time that her first reaction to any slightly abnormal situation wasn’t panic. “Is something wrong? Is your dad okay?”

“He’s coming from the forest,” she said. Almost as an afterthought, she added, “And he’s got a bucket.”

Elena’s heart resumed a more normal beating pattern. A dead or injured man couldn’t carry a bucket. He was fine. They were all fine.

“What’s in the bucket?” she asked.

“Snow, silly.” Tina rubbed her hands together like a tiny villain. “He’s coming to get us.”

“That’s what he thinks.” Elena secured the fur-lined hood of her jacket and moved to the side of the window, peering out toward the forest. She couldn’t see anyone moving, but the snow was coming down really fast now, flakes like puffs of cotton tossed about in the wind. Poor Tina had been desperate to go out and play in it all morning, but Elena could only look at the muddled winterscape and see danger under every white lump. A snowball attack plotted from the interior had been her attempt at a compromise. All of the fun; none of the life-threatening potential. Only when the snowmobile Max drove to the other cabins appeared in the drive did she allow Tina to head out there.

She noted a shuffling sound behind her, but she was too busy looking for Max to wonder what caused it. Besides, it didn’t matter, because she learned soon enough about the treachery that awaited her. No sooner had a snowball come whizzing through the open window—from the opposite direction of the forest—and landed squarely against her chest than Elena realized she’d been betrayed. She reached for her snowball cache only to find Tina installed on the lid, a look of delighted mischief in her eyes.

The rest of the betrayal came as a bucket of snow dumped over her head. It was a good thing she’d thought to pull her hood up because Max didn’t do things by halves. The bucket he hoisted was one of those big, plastic ten-gallon ones. It had to weigh a ton, but he lifted it easily, cascading her with a freezing landslide that nipped down her collar and left her breathless.

“Et tu, Brutus?” she cried as Tina fell off the cooler, laughing.

“We got you, Elena,” she shrieked. “Now it’s a fair fight for reals!”

“Judas! Benedict Arnold!” She slipped out of her coat, scattering snow everywhere in the process. She fully intended to keep up her long list of traitors, but she caught sight of Max leaning on the window frame and stopped as suddenly as she’d begun.

If she’d thought a bucket of snow could render her breathless, it was only because she’d never seen a vision quite like that before. Max was, at almost all times, full of languid confidence. It must have something to do with his long history of heroics, because he carried himself in a way no other man she’d met could manage—as though he knew his own worth but didn’t feel the need to show off about it all the time.

His stance now showcased it perfectly. His arms were crossed where they rested on the windowsill, his chin propped on one hand in a pose of negligent masculinity. His disarming hazel eyes were alight with laughter, and a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. To top it all off, a dusting of snow covered his hair and beard, rendering him almost sparkly.

And sparkles, as good as they were, weren’t even the best part. Oh, no. That was reserved for the way he was looking at Elena…with a smile.

At her. With her. For her.

“You realize you just dumped a bucket full of snow inside our cabin, right?” she asked, basking in the power of that smile. “It’s already starting to melt all over the floor. You’re going to flood our poor tree.”

His smile only deepened. “Maybe you should have thought of that earlier. It’s never a good idea to start something you aren’t ready to see through to the end.”

“Oh, but I am,” she replied. Even though she knew it was dangerous, knew it was pushing things—pushing him—she added, “It’s the one thing a scaredy-cat like me is good at. Weighing the pros and cons. Figuring out if the reward is worth the risk. You can be absolutely sure that when I decide to go after something, it’s because I’ve thought long and hard about what I want. Long, Max. And harder than you can ever imagine.”

He shot into an upright position, almost smacking his head on the top of the windowsill. But his eyes never left hers, and he didn’t automatically retreat into himself the way he normally did when she sent out her overtures. For what might be the first time, he seemed prepared to listen to what she was saying—maybe even to consider the possibility of what she had to offer.

“Hot cocoa,” Tina announced.

A guilty flush stole into Elena’s cheeks. She had two professional rules for the Max situation, and she tried to stick to them at all times. The first was that she had to keep the banter firmly in innuendo territory while Tina was around. The second was to keep a touch barrier up at all times. Every part of her might be longing to lean forward and ruffle her fingers through Max’s slow-glistening hair, but she wouldn’t do that. Not without his permission, and not while Tina was in attendance.

But that had been a close one. She’d been a hair’s breadth away from taking all things long and hard to the next level, professional rules be damned.

“What’s that, sweetie?” Elena asked, turning her attention to her charge.

“Hot cocoa—that’s what I want,” Tina said. “The Elena special, with marshmallows and cinnamon and sprinkles on top.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Max replied. Like Elena, he was more flustered than his usual calm self, but that didn’t stop him from vaulting nimbly through the window to join them. “Why don’t we ask Elena to get started while you and I start shoveling this mess out the window?”

“I can help?” Tina asked eagerly.

“Absolutely” came Max’s easy reply. “There’s nothing I love more than spending time with my girl.”

Tina glanced up at her dad. Her face was averted from Elena’s, which meant she couldn’t tell if the girl wore a look of innocence or mischief as she asked, “You mean both your girls, right?”

Elena sucked in a breath, certain there wasn’t a worse question for Tina to put to her father. Which was why it came as a complete surprise to find Max’s eyes lift to hers, intense in their regard.

“Of course, Peanut,” he said, still staring at Elena. “That’s exactly what I meant.”