Page 19 of The Christmas Door

Tooeasy.

Like something he wasn’t used to letting himself have.

Before Amayah could say anything else, something thudded softly against Luke’s chest.

Luke blinked at the white smear on his coat. “What?—?”

Just then, a chorus of high-pitched gasps and poorly muffled giggles erupted from across the street.

“Retreat!” a boy shouted from behind a half-decorated hedge.

“No! Stand your ground!” another yelled, brandishing a lumpy snowball that crumbled in his mittened hand.

“Did I forget to mention the annual snowball fight tradition that goes along with this bazaar?” Amayah asked with a grin.

Luke turned slowly toward the cluster of bundled children. “I see what’s happening here . . .”

Another snowball arced through the air—this one slightly misshapen, slightly ambitious—and whizzed past Miranda’s ankle, skittering across the sidewalk.

“Oh, no, they didn’t! Keep the cameras rolling, people!” Miranda pointed at the lead cameraman. “If someone face-plants, we’re using it in the blooper reel.”

A few neighbors paused to watch.

Someone cheered, “Get him, boys!”

Luke lifted his hands in surrender. “I am but an innocent bystander.”

“You’re wearing a black coat,” one of the kids hollered. “That’s villain attire!”

Amayah bit back a laugh as another snowball splatted near Luke’s boots. “I think you’ve been profiled.”

A girl of about nine stepped forward, brandishing a snowball with the confidence of a seasoned warrior. “Surrender your kettle corn, sir, and we’ll let you pass.”

Luke looked down at the bag in his hand. “This seems like extortion.”

“It’s Christmas,” Amayah whispered. “Make a deal.”

Meanwhile, the camera captured everything:

Luke under fire.

Amayah barely containing laughter.

The kids cackling in triumph.

The festive street twinkling behind them like a storybook gone rogue.

Luke sighed dramatically. “Fine. Truce!”

He extended his kettle corn like a peace offering.

The smallest boy trotted forward, swapped it for a half-formed snowball, and saluted like a tiny general.

Amayah clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter as the kids retreated triumphantly down the sidewalk.

Luke watched them go, wiping snow from his coat. “Didn’t expect to be ambushed. That was humbling.”

“On the bright side, you survived,” Amayah offered.