“Right?” Charlie felt herself relaxing despite the confined space. “Don't get me wrong, I cried when he showed up at the Battle of Ashenmoor. But story-wise?—”
“It weakened the stakes,” Ben finished.
They looked at each other for a beat too long, and Charlie forced her eyes back to the road.
“You two are adorable,” Viv said, not even trying to hide her smile.
“When we get up to the Eisenhower Tunnel, we should talk about camera angles,” Maddie said quickly, bless her. “For the avalanche scene.”
Charlie tuned out the conversation as Viv, Rowan, and Maddie discussed technical details. She focused on driving the road winding up into the foothills to distract her from the fact that Ben was sitting eighteen inches away and they'd just had an entire conversation about character arcs and narrative structure.
He reads the same books I do. He thinks about story the same way I do.
Hide what you love.
But he already knew what aBattleLorenerd she was. And Ben hadn't looked at her like she was ridiculous for caring about fantasy novels. He'd looked at her like?—
Like he understood. Because that was him, too.
TEN
The road climbed steadilyas they approached Berthoud Pass, and Ben watched the landscape transform through the windshield. Ponderosa pine gave way to spruce and fir, the trees growing shorter and more gnarled until they surrendered entirely to the alpine zone. The morning sun hit the mountains at an angle that made the distant peaks glow, and Ben felt the familiar pull of this place—the quiet, the vastness, the sense of being close to something ancient and indifferent and beautiful. He loved these mountains. Always had.
Memories filled his head—like the summer he was sixteen and Shane piled everyone into his pickup with all their camping gear. One minute the sky had been blue; the next, freezing rain had hammered Gabe, Waylon, and Elias in the truck bed while Ben, Shane, and Bear laughed like idiots. Waylon’s face plastered to the back window still made him grin. He didn’t have a care in the world back then.
The mountains had been his playground as a kid, his classroom as a soldier, his refuge when he needed to think. Shane used to joke that Ben was part mountain goat, the way he could navigate terrain that made other people nervous. He'd driven this route hundreds of times.
Today, Charlie sat eighteen inches to his left, her hands steady on the wheel, her attention focused on the winding road ahead. She handled the wheel like she handled everything else—precise, economical, no wasted motion. The SUV hummed steadily as she navigated the grade.
He was much too aware of her beside him. The faint scent of her shampoo. The way her shoulders squared when she checked the mirrors. Ben stole a glance at Charlie every time she picked up the coffee. The way her expression softened just slightly each time she took a sip. How she'd looked at him when he'd handed it to her—that's my exact order—like he'd done something more significant than remembering she took it with a splash of cream, no sugar after April had teased her about it.
Same thing with the chorizo burritos. He'd heard her mention them once at a Watchdog party months ago, talking to Shane about their SWCC days and the breakfast burritos at some dive near Coronado. Ben had filed it away automatically. But the way that she’d looked so grateful when he’d said he’d gotten extras, you would have thought he’d just bought her a house.
It told him she wasn’t used to having someone pay basic attention to her. That sat heavy in his chest. He felt lonely on her behalf.
Then there was the way she occupied space. On duty, she moved like she owned every inch of it—confident, capable, unshakeable. Off-hours, she folded inward just slightly, like someone who’d learned early not to ask for too much.
Only girl in a house full of brothers, she’d mentioned once. Judging by the way she acted sometimes, he doubted they’d been the protective kind.
Maybe that was why she was always on her guard.
Well, not always. He thought about the way she smiled when she thought no one was watching. Not the professional bodyguard smile she gave clients or the easy camaraderie sheshared with Shane and the other guys. But the real one, rare and unguarded, that made something in Ben's chest pull tight.
He'd seen that smile Saturday at the Faire, after they'd gotten Viv and Rowan to safety. On their way back to the forge, she'd caught sight of the ring with the elephant rides and her smile was a mix of surprise and pure delight. He wished she’d had a reason to smile like that all the time—unguarded.
“Ben?”
He blinked, realizing Charlie had said his name twice.
“Sorry, what?”
“The turnoff. Is it coming up?”
“Yeah, just ahead.” He pointed. “The summit parking lot. You'll see the warming hut.”
She nodded, already adjusting her approach, scanning the road ahead with the same tactical precision she brought to everything.
Behind them, Viv and Maddie were talking about sight lines and camera placement, Rowan chiming in occasionally. Ben let their voices fade. He was thinking about how excited he was to share his mountains with Charlie. He wanted her to see what he saw. The way snow moved across the tundra, how wind shaped the landscape.
