He'd take either one.
“Can we get closer?” Viv asked, already moving toward the edge of the parking area where a viewing platform overlooked the western slopes.
Ben led the way, Charlie and Flo falling in beside him. The group spread out along the platform, and Ben pointed out the features of the terrain—the natural chutes carved by decades of avalanches, the rocky outcroppings that would catch and hold snow, the wind-loaded cornices that would form along the ridgelines come winter.
Maddie took notes on her tablet while Viv asked practical questions about access roads and talked about filming permits. She was already framing shots with her hands, muttering about camera placement and lighting angles.
“The Continental Divide Trail runs right through here,” Ben said, gesturing to the trail marker near the warming hut. “In winter, this whole area becomes backcountry skiing terrain. You'd have people hiking up and skiing down all day. Might complicate your filming schedule.”
“We’re coordinating with CDOT and the Forest Service anyway,” Viv said. “They close the road for a few hours, control the avalanche, we’ll get our shots.”
Charlie had wandered a few steps away, Flo at her side, looking out over the tundra stretching toward the distant peaks.The wind whipped her ponytail sideways, and she tilted her face up to the sun like she was drinking in the altitude and the light.
Ben wanted to go stand beside her. Wanted to point out the landmarks he knew by heart—Stanley Mountain to the southwest, Vasquez Peak to the west, Colorado Mines Peak to the east. Wanted to tell her about the time he and the guys had camped up here at the end of August and woken to four inches of fresh snow, or the afternoon Bear had spotted a moose at fifty yards and they'd all frozen like they were on patrol.
But she looked peaceful standing there alone, and Ben didn't want to intrude.
“All right,” Viv said, grabbing her hat just as the wind tried to whip it away. “I've seen enough here. Let’s check out the Eisenhower Tunnel area.”
“We can hit Georgetown for lunch, if you’re getting hungry,” Ben said.
“Sounds good,” Rowan said.
“Everyone ready?” Charlie asked, turning back toward the SUV. “Make sure you’re drinking water. I brought plenty of bottles.”
They piled back in, Ben taking his navigator seat up front. Charlie pulled out of the parking lot and started the winding descent toward Georgetown. The road dropped through switchbacks, trees gradually thickening again as they lost elevation. Charlie handled the curves with the same steady competence she brought to everything, and Ben found himself relaxing into the rhythm of it—the hum of the engine, the shifting light through the windshield, the easy conversation from the back seat.
“Georgetown's an old silver mining town,” Ben said as they approached the final curves before town. “Lot of history. Good sandwiches, too.”
“Where are we stopping?” Maddie asked.
“There’s a little mom and pop place called Mountain Buzz Cafe,” Ben said. “Best sandwiches in town, and we can grab them to go. There's a good spot near the Eisenhower Tunnel where we can eat with a view.”
Charlie glanced at him. “You've got this whole day planned out, don't you?”
“Maybe.” Ben grinned. “Is that okay?”
“It's perfect,” Viv said from the back seat before Charlie could answer. “I love a man with a plan.”
Rowan laughed. “She really does.”
Georgetown appeared below them—a cluster of Victorian buildings tucked into the valley, the old Georgetown Loop Railroad visible as a thin line cutting through the canyon. Charlie followed Ben's directions down the main street, past historic storefronts and restaurants, until they reached Mountain Buzz Cafe.
“I'll run in,” Ben said. “What does everyone want?”
They called out orders—turkey and Swiss for Viv, Italian sub for Rowan, veggie wrap for Maddie. Charlie hesitated.
“The roast beef's good,” Ben offered. “Or they've got a killer chicken salad.”
“Roast beef,” Charlie said. “Thanks.”
Ben mentally addedroast beef sandwichesto the growing list of things Charlie liked, right below chorizo burritos and coffee with a splash of cream.
Small victories.
He jogged into the cafe, placed the order, and waited by the counter while they assembled the sandwiches. Through the window, he could see Charlie leaning against the SUV, Flo sitting at her feet, both of them watching the street. Always scanning. Always aware. Always ready.
The guy behind the counter called his number, and Ben grabbed the bag of sandwiches and a carrier with five drinks—black coffee with cream for Charlie, because he'd noticed her cup from this morning was empty.
