“So you never date?” she asked, finding it hard to believe he didn’t have plenty of girls—probably some who frequented this cabin—who would be happy to distract him from his busy schedule.
“Not really,” he said. “I’m too serious about studying and working.”
“Then why ask Bri for my number?”
A very slow smile pulled, and he tipped his head to her, a softness in his blue eyes touching her right to her soul.
“I’d love to say, you know, I’m a sucker for big brown eyes and all that pretty hair—which I am—but there was something about you…”
For what felt like five full heartbeats, he regarded her closely, as though he was trying to figure it out.
“My famous father?” she guessed, hoping so much that wasn’t the attraction.
“No, absolutely not,” he assured her. “I think it was your…vulnerability.”’
“On skis? You call it vulnerability. I call it scared out of my mind.”
“No, it wasn’t your fear. I didn’t really see that, since people fall all the time, even experts. It was…” He breathed out a sigh. “I think I felt like I could trust you.”
“With what?”
He swallowed. “My wipeout story and the…aftermath. You ready?”
She nodded. “When you are.”
Nicole gave him time,sensing that this was no ordinary ski tale. Checking the weather again, they decided they had time for some coffee, which he brewed. While he did, she asked him about the paramedic training.
“How much do you have left until you get certified?” she asked.
“One more year, then I’ll take the National Registry Exam, which is grueling,” he told her. “A written exam that I’ve heard MDs say they couldn’t pass, then a hands-on station test.”
“What’s involved with that?” she asked.
He poured two mugs of coffee and opened a cabinet, producing powdered creamer and a bag of sugar that looked like it had survived more winters than her grandfather. He made a face.
“Black okay?”
“If I want to live,” she joked, taking the cup and walking with him back to the sofa.
“The station tests are tough, too,” he said, going back to the conversation. “I have to lead cardiac arrest management, pediatric emergencies, prove my airway skills, trauma assessment, the whole deal. Since I’m already a firefighter, I’lldo that on the job, but it could take another six months to complete.”
“Wow.” She blew on her coffee, eyeing him over the rim. “That’s impressive.”
“Be impressed after I get licensed, but yeah.” He took a sip of coffee and set the mug on the table. “It’s been hard.”
“Lifelong dream?” she guessed.
His expression darkened. “Well, it’s part of the aftermath of my wipeout story, which I am now ready to share.”
Silently, she put her cup down, too, and turned to him on the sofa.
“There were no skis involved,” he said after a beat and a slow exhale. “But a lot of ice, swerving, and a cocky attitude from a kid who…should have known better.”
She leaned closer, forgetting the snow, the cabin, the whole world. Cameron’s voice had grown deeper and quieter, and she knew what he was about to share wasn’t something he talked about a lot.
“I was sixteen and had a driver’s license for a grand total of four weeks.” He let out a dry laugh, but there was no humor in it. “We were driving back from Salt Lake—me, my mom and dad, and my little sister, Elise. We’d turned my sister’s indoor arena lesson down in Draper into a Hale family outing that day. She competed in junior cross-rails with horses.”
“Oh.” Nicole felt her face brighten. “I loved to go see those shows,” she said. “I always wanted to do that but just owned horses, never competed.”
