Charlie nodded, grateful for a normal question. “I’m actually from central Ohio. Nowhere near the ocean, or even Erie.”
“Really? Where?”
Charlie hesitated. She never talked about herself like this. But Ben put her at ease. His questions didn’t feel like an interrogation. “Believe it or not, I grew up near a place called Dead Man Crossing, just outside of Chillicothe.”
His eyebrows rose, but not in judgement. More like curiosity. “Wow. Sounds like a haunted place.”
It is, but not for the reasons you think.
“A man named James Caldwell was killed in the eighteen-eighties in a railway accident. That’s about all I know, except for the ghost stories of course. Weird lights, a man who calls for help then disappears. Typical urban legends.” She grinned, trying to turn the subject back around. “I’m sure you know plenty of ghost stories about lost miners and pioneers in the mountains.”
“Yeah, one or two.” Ben grinned. “Arden ever tell you about Nancy Silks?”
“You mean her great-great-great grandmother who haunts the ranch? No, she hasn’t.” Charlie gave Ben a soft smile. “But Sean did.”
Ben's expression shifted—pain and understanding. They both missed their friend. He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. Charlie marveled at how small her hand looked compared to his. Almost…dainty.
“On the boat, he talked about Lyons and the St. Vrain. He loved that river. I guess I wanted to see it for myself.”
And you. I wanted to see you for myself.
Ben's thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand. Charlie took a breath and looked at Ben through her lashes. She turned her hand over so their palms pressed together.
Their food arrived then, breaking the moment. Without meaning to, Charlie pulled her hand away quickly, but Ben didn’t seem to take offense. The server set down two enormous steaks with loaded baked potatoes and grilled asparagus. Charlie's stomach growled again.
She caught Ben's eyes on her as she cut into her steak, and for half a second she wondered if he'd prefer a woman who ordered salad and picked at it delicately. But then she thought,screw it, I'm hungry, and took a proper bite.
The steak was perfect—seared on the outside, pink and juicy in the middle. Charlie let out an involuntary sound of appreciation.
When she looked up, Ben was grinning at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” But his eyes were warm, pleased. “Just good to see you enjoying it.”
“Are you kidding? This is amazing.” Charlie cut another piece. “On assignment like this I usually live on protein bars.”
“Then I'm glad we're fixing that.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Charlie found herself relaxing into it—the easy rhythm of the meal, the way Ben didn't seem to need to fill every silence with conversation. He just... was. Present. Comfortable in his own skin in a way that made her want to be comfortable in hers.
“Can I ask you something?” Ben said eventually.
“Sure.”
“The drawing thing. How long have you been doing that?”
Charlie swallowed her bite of potato. “Since I was a kid, I guess. But I got serious about it in the military. You know how it is. I needed something to do with my hands during down time. Considering we were in different parts of the world I’d probably never see again—some of them I’m glad I’ll never see again.” She added that last part ruefully. “I wanted to capture them. I took photos for a while, but that sort of thing can get you in trouble, right?”
Ben nodded knowingly.
“So I picked up a sketchbook and some pencils instead.” She paused. “Why?”
“Just curious. You mentioned it earlier—about wanting to draw Loveland Pass. I liked seeing that side of you.”
Charlie shrugged. “I think it's kind of silly. A bodyguard who sketches.”
“I don't think it's silly at all.” Ben's gaze was steady. “I'm a former Ranger and a blacksmith who reads fantasy novels and makes medieval armor. I don't get to judge anyone's hobbies.”
