Charlie eased the SUV into the Berthoud Pass Summit parking lot, gravel crunching under the tires. From here, the switchbacks below were clearly visible, etched into the mountainside like a sidewinder.
Ben stepped out as soon as the vehicle had fully stopped, his body already adjusting to the elevation, the thinner air, the relentless wind at eleven thousand feet. He stuffed down the urge to go around the SUV and open Charlie’s door for her. It wasn’t his place right now, but he was determined that as long as she wasn’t working, he’d make sure she felt taken care of in all the tiny ways she deserved. Instead, he opened the back doorfor Viv and Maddie, while Rowan got out on Charlie’s side. The wind tugged at their jackets and carried the faint scent of stone and sun-warmed trees.
Ben scanned the slopes automatically—old habits from Range training, from too many missions where terrain meant the difference between success and catastrophe.
Charlie opened the back and Flo jumped down, immediately at her side. After she snapped Flo’s leash into place, Ben watched as she took in the landscape. Her posture shifted—still alert, still professional, but something in her expression opened. Appreciation, he hoped.
“This is a good example of readable terrain,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You can see where snow would move. Where it would stop. Nothing's hidden.”
“It has potential,” Viv said, already moving toward the edge of the parking area. “Maddie, can you bring up some winter photos?”
“One sec.” Maddie handed her tablet to Viv, who was all-director now, quiet and serious as she looked from the screen to the landscape in front of her, and back again. Rowan went to Viv’s other side and studied the photos.
Flo sniffed the wind, her tail wagging slowly, and Ben crouched to scratch behind her ears.
“She likes you,” Charlie said.
Ben looked up. Charlie was watching him, something soft in her expression that made his heart speed up inconveniently.
“I like her too,” he said. Then, because he couldn't quite help himself, he added, “Good judge of character, dogs.”
Charlie's mouth quirked. Almost a smile. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely.” He stood, brushing gravel off his knees. “They know who's safe. Who's steady.”
“And who brings them treats tied with pink bows?”
There it was. The real smile. The one that made his pulse kick.
“That too,” Ben admitted, grinning back at her.
For a moment, they just stood there, the wind pulling at their hair, the mountains spread out before them like an invitation. Ben wanted to tell her things he had no business saying—that she looked beautiful with her hair whipping around her face, that he'd been thinking about her since Saturday, that he'd bring her a hundred cups of coffee the way she liked it made if it meant she'd look at him like this again.
Instead, he cleared his throat and pointed toward the slope in front of them.
“See those paths?” he said. “The ones that look like wide chutes running down? Those are called the Eighties and Nineties. Old ski runs from when this was still a resort. Now they're just avalanche terrain. CDOT monitors them pretty closely.”
Charlie followed his gesture, her tactical mind already working. “How often do they slide?”
Viv had wandered over, Rowan and Maddie trailing behind. Ben had everyone’s attention now.
“Depends on the winter. Heavy snow year? Multiple times. They've got Gazex systems on some of the paths—remote-controlled explosives that trigger slides before they get dangerous.”
“Gazex,” Charlie repeated, filing it away.
“That’s where we’d film the controlled avalanche,” Viv said.
“Exactly.” He pointed further south. “Path Five—Stanley—has five Gazex units. That's probably your best bet for filming. Safe, predictable, still dramatic.”
“Which one would look best on camera?” Rowan asked Viv.
She considered. “Stanley's got good sight lines. We could set up on the road below, get the full path in frame.”
“If you want something more exposed, more dangerous-looking?” Ben gestured toward the eastern peaks. “The Mines paths are bigger. Steeper. More... consequential.”
“Consequential,” Viv echoed, her eyes lighting up. “I like that word.”
Ben felt Charlie's gaze on him again. When he glanced over, she was studying him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Curious, maybe. Or impressed.
