All in December

Chapter 1

Caleb

“We’ll do one more run, then we can stop for lunch, okay?”

Sam nods at me, breathing a little heavy from the last trail we just skied down, but I know that won’t slow him down. He has that endless kid energy I can’t quite keep up with anymore at thirty-four. I smile at him, resigned to the fact that overpriced chicken tenders are in my immediate future.

We shuffle forward in the lift line, skis clanging awkwardly against each other as we merge with the busy Saturday crowd. I nudge Sam gently, steering us toward the four-person lane.

“Is it just you two?” a deep voice behind me asks.

I turn, and for a second, I forget how cold my fingers are or that my nose is half frozen because damn.

Even though most of his face is hidden behind a neck gaiter and a helmet, the man behind me is stunning.

He’s a few inches taller than me, and his bright blue eyes are visible through his clear goggle lenses.

“Uh, yep,” I say, quickly, suddenly feeling nervous even though riding the lift with strangers is a very common thing.

He lifts a hand, gesturing to the boy next to him. “Cool. We’ll hop on with you.”

It’s only then that I notice there’s a boy who looks to be about Sam’s age standing quietly at his side. His helmet is slightly crooked, and he’s got a bright blue coat on.

I move to the outside so Sam can be in the middle, and the two boys now stand next to each other as the line moves closer and closer to the chair lift.

“I’m Nash,” the man says, reaching his hand out to me with a big smile.

“Caleb.” I smile back and remind myself to breathe.

While I’ve ridden the lift with many strangers over the years, people don’t typically introduce themselves—especially not before getting on—and no one has ever shaken my hand before like he does. It’s awkward doing it over our kids and with gloves and ski poles, but I kind of like it.

It’s our turn, and the lift operator waves us forward. Sam scrambles ahead, and Nash’s son quickly follows before he and I ski forward to wait. We plop down when the chair comes around, and the lift jerks upward as it ascends the mountain.

For a moment, it’s quiet as we pull down the bar and get settled into the chair. Well, apart from a few little grunts, groans, and clanging of equipment while all four of us try to adjust our skis on the foot rest and get our poles situated.

“How’s your day been?” Nash asks, turning his head toward me, looking over the boys.

“Good,” I begin. “Early start, but he’s been loving it.” I nod toward Sam, who’s talking to the other boy.

“Awesome. We drove in late last night. He was supposed to be with his mom this weekend, but she had plans to go holiday shopping. When he groaned about it, she offered to just take his sister, Emma, and said I could take him skiing instead. So now we’re doing a boys’ weekend on the mountain.”

“That sounds better than shopping for sure.” I laugh.

“Dad, can we do that soon? I want to stay up here,” Sam interrupts.

“Yeah, of course,” I promise. “We can look when we get home and plan a trip soon.”

“Cool,” he says, satisfied, turning back to his own conversation.

“Obviously, we’re only up for the day,” I chuckle over the top of the boys’ heads.

Nash smiles at me softly, and his expression looks so full of understanding. “That’s usually all we can do, too. But it’s nice to stay this weekend, especially with the storm coming in.”

I nod at him before my eyes drift out over the massive Colorado mountains ahead of us. There are jagged snowy peaks that cut across the gray sky, and the slopes below are lined with dark evergreens dusted white.

“Do you live in Denver?” I ask.

“Yeah, we do. What about you?”

“Same here,” I nod. “I love that skiing here for the day is even an option.” I’m not used to being so chatty on the lift, but there’s something about him that’s drawing me in, and it’s not just those bright, glacier-water blue eyes of his. “How old is your son?” I ask.

“Benji’s nine. How about yours?”

“Sam’s eight. It’s cool they’re close in age, probably why they seem to be getting along so well already,” I add, still wanting to keep this conversation going.

He smiles again, and it suddenly feels unseasonably warm for such a chilly December day. And it’s cold—the kind of cold that’s sharp enough to sting your lungs. Yet his smile makes my chest do that stupid flutter thing I thought I’d never feel again at this age.

“Maybe they’ll end up ski buddies by the end of the day,” Nash suggests.

The end of the day? Is he implying that we’ll be spending the day together?

My chest flutters again, somehow more aggressively this time, at the implication his words hold.

I lick my lips before raking the bottom one between my teeth, trying to hold back an overly telling smile.

I can already tell I’d really like to spend the day with him.

It’s impossible not to overthink his words, but I’d kind of like to be ski buddies with him, too.

Or… whatever the grown-up version of that is.

“Seems like we’re heading that way.” I laugh as I listen to the boys’ conversation evolve into their favorite trails on the mountain.

The chair sways slightly as it pauses for a moment, and I glance at Nash again, trying not to stare.

It’s a challenge, though, with how handsome he is, with his bright smile, olive skin, and dark brown strands of hair sticking out from under his helmet.

There’s a familiarity to him I can’t place—not in a I-know-you way, but in a I-get-you kind of way.

It’s evident in how he watches his son and seems to find joy in the shared moments like these with him.

Single dad radar, maybe. Or maybe just loneliness recognizing itself in someone else, even though he doesn’t appear to be lonely at all.

It’s been a long time since I felt a genuine connection with someone, and between work and Sam, my time is limited. I want to date again and fall in love, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to find the time, let alone my person.

As we approach the summit, the sky is darker and the snow falls heavier. It’s always fascinated me how the base and the peak can have such different weather, even though they’re only a few thousand feet apart in elevation.

“Storm’s rolling in,” Nash says with a big smile. “Hopefully it means fresh snow tomorrow.”

I nod, shifting my goggles into place, thinking about how much I suddenly wish we were staying the night. Nash keeps mentioning a storm, and maybe I should’ve looked at the weather more closely before we drove up this morning. I knew it was going to snow, but I have no idea how much.

Maybe we should head out after the lunch I’d already promised Sam, even though I already hate that idea.

As we approach the drop zone, the chair slows just enough for us to all slide off, skis scraping against packed powder. We glide out of the way of the next riders and turn toward the trail on the right.

“You wanna ski down together?” Nash asks.

My stomach flutters once again because he actually meant what he said on the chairlift. He wasn’t just being friendly—he meant it—and someone following through on what they said they’d do? That’s a major green flag for me.

“Sounds fun. You wanna do that, bud?” I ask Sam, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, since he and Benji are still talking by themselves.

“Yes!” he shouts and turns to Benji. “Race you to the bottom?”

“You’re on!” Benji replies, and I really hope no one ends up with a twisted ankle.

They push off, skiing down the mountain, and I can’t help but laugh at their enthusiasm.

“Ready?” Nash asks, and I give him a quick nod.

He follows behind the boys, and I take off a moment later, leaning into the slope.

The air bites at my cheeks as we pick up speed, flying down a wide trail lined with snowy evergreens.

I’ve always thought that certain snows make the trees look like they’ve been spray-painted white, and today’s one of those days.

The trail we’re on is labeled as a blue with only a few steep parts, and it’s a run Sam and I have done countless times.

Sam’s laugh carries up the mountain to me as he tucks his little body forward to try to beat Benji, but Benji keeps up, cutting quick, tight turns behind him.

I’m just glad neither of them is trying to straight-line it down the mountain.

The last thing they need is to pick up speed too quickly and end up hurt in the ski patrol’s sled.

Nash and I are still behind them, letting them have their fun.

“They’re having the time of their lives today, huh?” he calls over the wind, glancing sideways at me as we hit a flatter stretch.

“You can say that again.” I laugh. “He’s definitely having more fun now than he was with just me.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, Benji too. He loves to show off when he’s got friends around. He terrifies me every time he leaves the ground.”

I motion toward the boys as Benji skis over a small bump, getting a couple of inches of air at most, and Sam follows, doing the same. “Like that?”

“Exactly like that.” He laughs easily.

I don’t remember the last time I felt this at ease talking to someone new, especially another dad.

Usually, it feels like forced, awkward small talk.

Or trying to figure out what to say without oversharing, yet still saying enough to fit in with the other parents.

But with Nash, it’s been surprisingly easy, almost like we’ve somehow already skipped a few steps to make it to the fun and comfortable part of friendship.

By the time we reach the base, Sam’s cheeks are red, and he’s grinning from ear to ear. He turns to me with wide eyes. “Did you see that jump, Dad? I got so much air!”

“You did,” I agree, even if he barely left the ground. “I also saw my life flash before my eyes.”

He grins and turns to Benji. “Wanna do that one again after lunch?”

Benji nods with a huge smile on his face. “Definitely!”

Nash pulls off his gloves, letting them hang from his wrists. “You guys eating at the lodge now?”

“Yeah, I promised Sam we’d stop after one more run right before you guys hopped in line with us,” I say as I watch the boys take off their skis, Benji already moving like he’s coming with us. “Sam’s on a strict diet of overpriced chicken tenders and hot chocolate.”

Nash chuckles. “Benji, too. Must be something they worked into the ski school curriculum all those years ago.”

“I think you might be right about that,” I joke. “You guys want to eat together? It’s always hard finding a table, and the boys seem to be getting along… but no pressure if you’ve got other plans,” I add, because I don’t want him to feel obligated.

Nash looks down at Benji, who’s nodding enthusiastically, then back at me. “Yeah, we’d love to.”

“Cool.” I unclip my boots from my skis and try to be cool about this, but I’m more nervous than I’d like to admit with this ridiculous urge to impress Nash.

After we line our skis up on the rack outside, Nash pushes the door open, and a rush of warm air hits us the second we step inside.

We stomp the snow off our boots, unzip our jackets, and make our way further into the large lodge.

It’s less of a cozy cabin and more of a busy food court with multiple stations to pick from, tables packed shoulder to shoulder, and people everywhere.

I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it’s hard to find a spot. But lucky for us, there’s an empty table by the oversized wood-burning fireplace tucked in the corner that we manage to snag.

Nash and I both hand the boys money, and judging by the look Nash gives me, we’re both thinking the same thing: Let them pick what they want, then eat whatever they inevitably leave behind.

I set my gloves and helmet on the table before dropping into the wooden chair, and a sigh escapes me. “Why does skiing make you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck, even when you’re having fun?”

Nash laughs as he takes off his helmet. “Because it’s secretly a full-body workout disguised as a good time.”

Usually, I’d laugh because he’s correct, but right now, I’m trying to pick up my jaw. Nash is hot. This is the first time I’m seeing him without his helmet and goggles on and… holy hell, I don’t even have words.

His brown hair is a sweaty mess with damp curls plastered around the edge of his forehead.

My eyes trace the movement of his hand as he reaches up to run his fingers through the strands like he’s trying to bring them back to life.

His cheeks are flushed red from the cold, and his jawline is coated in stubble.

He’s the whole stupidly attractive package, and I quickly look away, pretending to search for the boys before I start drooling.

“Uh,” he starts, drawing my attention back to him. I must’ve done a bad job of hiding my disbelief at how handsome he is, though, because he’s looking at me with a confused expression. “Everything okay?” he questions, probably from my strange response to his joke.

My cheeks heat more at Nash calling me out, but my god, how am I supposed to act normal when the hottest man I’ve ever seen is sitting across the table from me? “Yep. Totally. Just trying to see where Sam went,” I say, shaking my head and blinking to try to snap out of it.

But all that does is make me realize Nash is also seeing me for the first time right now, and I’m a sweaty mess who can’t pull it off nearly as well as he does.

He leans back in his chair, arms stretched casually over the backrest of the empty one next to him, and smirks. Fucking smirks. Like he wasn’t already radiating hot single dad energy all over this ski lodge.

I’m so fucked.

He’s got to know what he’s doing to me. My cheeks are still hot, and the tips of my ears are burning now, but at least I managed to pick up my jaw and blink.

Thankfully, Sam and Benji return with their trays of chicken tenders and fries, and what I’m assuming is a cup of hot chocolate, interrupting us before I can embarrass myself further.

“Make sure you don’t eat yourself into a food coma.” Nash laughs as he warns Benji, and probably Sam. “We’ve still got a whole afternoon of skiing still ahead of us.”

They both nod at him, and I smile at the fact that Sam seems to feel comfortable around the two of them already.

The three of them talk while I try to stop sneaking glances at Nash, but he’s making it hard. He’s funny, and present, and he looks at Benji like he hung the moon—and yes, he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

It’s a dangerous combination, and it’s making me want to explore all my quiet desires for the very first time.