“She also said you’d be with your family,” he added quickly. “So if I’m intruding, say the word and I’m a streak in the snow. I just—” He rubbed the back of his neck, the picture of a man who’d rather ski a double-black blindfolded than overshare feelings. “After this morning’s early shift, which I just finished, I have the rest of the week off. And I thought maybe if you had a sliver of time between your yuletide celebrations, we could…hang out?”
She laughed a little, thinking “yuletide” was more a word Benny or even Red would use, not this too-cool-for-school ski patrol boy. Well, not a boy. He looked to be in his late twenties or so, maybe a couple years older than Nicole.
“Bri said you’re off the rest of this week, too,” he added with a meaningful raise of a brow. “So…”
“She’s a menace,” Nicole muttered, laughing.
“Well?”
As if she’d say no. “I could be convinced,” she said, drawing the words out to at least pretend she wasn’t half panting at the idea.
“Tomorrow afternoon?” he suggested. “We could walk Main Street. Get hot chocolate. Secretly mock the tourists?”
“Who make both of our jobs possible,” she reminded him.
He tipped his head, suitably chastised. “No mocking, then. Just hot chocolate and a fine Park City vibe.”
She smiled and nodded. “Tomorrow works. I’ll meet you at Sugarfall.”
“The bakery?”
“My cousin Gracie owns it.”
“Whoa, perks. Yes, I’ll see you there at…one o’clock?”
“Perfect.” She let out a quick breath and gestured to the lodge behind her. “Do you want to meet my?—”
He held up a hand and shook his head. “Not a chance I’m going to interrupt your Christmas. And some…one is waiting for me. See you tomorrow,” he said, a soft light in his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Nicole.”
“Merry Christmas,” she echoed.
He took a step backward, then another, as if he were reluctant to turn his back on her. Finally, he pivoted and jogged down the path, leaving boot prints in the layer of new snow.
Nicole closed her eyes and fought the urge to dance. Cameron was cute and sweet and,whoa, this Christmas kept getting better.
A minute later, she stepped back through the kitchen door. After taking off her boots and jacket but leaving her stocking hat on because it was silly and festive, she headed back to the living room. There, Benny stood in front of the coffee table like he was giving a TED talk.
“I have made my decision,” he announced, chin up, puppy perched on his forearm like a furry loaf with ears. “His official, legal, and forever name is Sir Isaac Newton.”
A beat of stunned silence, and then the room detonated into laughter and applause.
“Isaac Newton?” Red asked with a chuckle.
“Sir,” Benny confirmed, deadly serious. “The ‘Sir’ is important.”
Jack clapped his hands together once, delighted. “We can call him Newt for short. Or…Zach?”
Benny hugged the dog closer and shook his head vehemently. “No nicknames. He has a title. From the Queen. Or King. I don’t know but I’ll look it up on Grandpa’s new phone.”
“The one you’re not supposed to touch,” Red murmured into his coffee cup. “Because you lost thelastone you weren’t supposed to touch in the snow.”
“Sir Isaac Newton it is,” Nicole agreed, because how could it be anything else?
She bent to kiss the top of Benny’s head. The puppy licked the air near her nose, woofed once, and swatted a playful paw at her stocking cap tassel.
“He’s going to graduate first in his class,” Benny said, his face the picture of seriousness. “Right, Sir Isaac Newton?”
“You’re gonna want to shorten that, Benny,” Gracie said. “That name is a mouthful.”
