Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Charlie's hands stayed light on the wheel, but her attention sharpened. This wasn't the tourist-friendly summit they'd just left. This was serious terrain.
Beside her, Ben sat forward slightly, his gaze tracking the landscape. Not nervous—just aware. The same way she was aware when entering a room for the first time, cataloging exits and sight lines and potential threats.
Except Ben was reading the mountain itself.
“Almost there,” he said quietly. “The summit's just ahead.”
The road crested, and suddenly the world opened up.
Charlie eased into a wide pullout near the summit marker—11,990 feet, the sign proclaimed—and killed the engine. For a moment, nobody spoke.
The view stole everyone’s breath.
Mountains stretched in every direction, ridge after ridge folding into the distance like frozen waves. The sky was so blue it hurt to look at, and the wind—God, the wind never stopped up here. It poured over the pass like an invisible river, cold and clean and relentless.
But it was the terrain directly below them that held Charlie's attention.
Seven massive chutes carved down the mountainside, converging on the road like fingers reaching for prey. The switchbacks cut directly through them—no guardrails, no barriers, just asphalt and air and a long drop to the rocks below.
Charlie's artist brain kicked in automatically, the way it always did when confronted with something worth capturing.
She could see the drawing already—the brutal geometry of the switchbacks against the organic chaos of the avalanche paths.
The way light and shadow played across the slopes.
The sense of scale, of exposure, of consequence.
She'd need charcoal for this, maybe conte crayon. Something that could capture the rawness, the weight of all that stone and sky. Pencil would be too delicate. Watercolor too soft. This landscape demanded something bolder.
“Holy shit,” Viv breathed from the back seat.
“Yeah,” Rowan said.
Maddie was already out of the vehicle, tablet forgotten, just staring.
Charlie climbed out more slowly, Flo at her heels. The wind hit her immediately, strong enough to make her stagger. She leaned into it, letting it anchor her to this moment, this place.
Ben appeared at her side, close enough that she could hear him over the wind. “What do you think?”
What did she think? She thought this was the kind of landscape that painters spent their whole lives trying to capture and never quite got right.
The kind of place that made you want to sit down with a sketchbook and not leave until you'd committed every line, every shadow, every impossible angle to paper.
“It's perfect,” she said, and meant it in ways that had nothing to do with filming.
Ben's expression shifted—pleased, maybe a little surprised. Like he'd hoped she'd understand but hadn't been sure.
“Come on,” he said. “I'll show you the Sisters.”
He led them to the edge of the pullout where the slope dropped away in a dizzying sweep. One by one, he pointed out the avalanche paths, naming them like they were old friends.
“First Sister, closest to the summit. Second Sister just below that. See how they funnel together? By the time you get to the Seventh Sister down there—” he gestured to where the road made its final hairpin turn “—you've got all seven paths converging on the same hundred yards of asphalt.”
Charlie studied the terrain with a protector's eye first—sight lines, escape routes, places where things could go catastrophically wrong.
But underneath that professional assessment, her artist's mind was already sketching.
The sweeping curves of the chutes. The sharp angles where rock met sky.
The way the road looked so fragile, so temporary, cutting through all that permanence.
She wanted to draw this. Needed to, the way she sometimes needed to capture a face or a landscape before it slipped away from memory.
“In winter,” Ben continued, “when these paths load up with snow, they become terrain traps. Vehicles get caught in slides, pushed off the road. People die up here.”
“But CDOT monitors them?” Viv asked.
“Yeah, but the Gazex systems fail all the time.
They self-destruct, freeze, malfunction.
It's harsh up here. Equipment doesn't last.” Ben's voice carried the weight of someone who'd seen what happened when systems failed.
“If you're going to film here, you need to be smart about it. Controlled avalanche, staged carefully, everyone in safe positions.”
“That's exactly what we want, of course,” Viv said. “Are there old mines here, too?”
“Yes. They’re everywhere, if you know how to look.”
Viv was glowing now, energized in a way she hadn't been at the tunnel. “This is it. This is Lord Felldark's Mountain.”
Maddie was taking photos, Rowan was walking the length of the pullout, and Viv pulled out her phone to call someone—probably the studio, Charlie guessed.
Ben stayed beside Charlie, both of them looking out over the Seven Sisters.
“You're quiet,” he said.
Charlie glanced at him. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
She hesitated. This was the part where she usually deflected, kept people at arm's length. But Ben had shared his mountains with her today. He’d explained terrain the way some people talked about their friends.
He'd trusted her with something he loved.
Maybe she could trust him with something small.
“I'm thinking about how I'd draw this,” she admitted. “What materials I'd use. How to capture the scale of it without losing the detail.”
Ben turned to look at her fully, and something in his expression made her chest go tight.
“The colored pens and markers on your desk.” He grinned. “They aren’t just for color-coding spreadsheets.”
Charlie felt herself smile. “No, they aren’t.”
“You'd want to draw this?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She felt herself flush slightly, unsure why she was embarrassed. “I mean, if I had time. If I came back up here when I wasn't working.”
“Plein air,” Ben said.
Charlie blinked. “You know that term?”
“Sure.” His mouth quirked. “I'm a metalworker. I know artists. And I've seen enough landscape painters set up at the Faire to know what plein air means.”
Of course he did. Because Ben wasn't just a blacksmith who happened to read fantasy novels. He was someone who paid attention. Who noticed things.
Who remembered her coffee order and her favorite burrito and apparently the colored pens on her desk.
“I'd bring you back,” Ben said quietly. “If you w-wanted. To d-draw it, I mean.”
Charlie listened to him hum “The Lady of Shalott” under his breath. Her chest tightened.
“You would?”
“Yeah.” He held her gaze. “Whenever you wanted. I know this area well. I could show you good spots. Places with the right light, the right angles.”
I should say no. I should keep this professional.
But she didn't want to say no.
“I'd like that,” Charlie said.
Ben's smile was slow, genuine, reaching all the way to his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The wind pulled at their hair, cold and sharp and carrying the scent of snow from the peaks above. Flo pressed against Charlie's leg, her warmth grounding.
Viv's voice carried over from where she stood with Rowan and Maddie, something about camera permits and weather windows. The professional part of Charlie's brain noted that they'd probably be here another thirty minutes, maybe forty-five, going over logistics.
But right now, standing at the edge of the Seven Sisters with Ben beside her, Charlie let herself just be here. Just be present in this moment, in this place, with this man who wanted to bring her back so she could draw mountains.
“Thank you,” she said. “For today. For showing us all this.”
“My pleasure,” Ben said. And from the way he looked at her, she believed him.
Charlie escorted Viv, Rowan, and Maddie through the hotel lobby to the elevators, Flo padding quietly at her side.
Her shoulders ached from the drive and her brain was still processing the day—Ben explaining geological formations, avalanches, Colorado history.
Ben catching her eye as she imagined capturing the landscape and smiling like she was the view he'd come to see.
Hide what you love.
But it was getting harder.
“I'm exhausted,” Viv said, stretching. “Maddie, can you send me those location photos before you crash?”
“Already queued up,” Maddie said, tapping her tablet. “Should hit your inbox momentarily.”
“You're a miracle worker.”
Maddie beamed back at her. “I work for the best.”
The elevator doors opened and everyone got in.
Viv looked at Charlie. “Are we good for the night?”
“Shane's coming to debrief about the investigation.”
“Oh.” That one syllable said volumes.
“Don’t worry. You don’t need to be there for it. I can check in before you go to sleep and let you know what he’s found, or it can wait until tomorrow.”
“Let’s go with option two.” Viv squeezed her arm. “Thank you. For everything today.”
Charlie nodded, throat tight. Many clients treated you like you were furniture. Some even got belligerent when all you were trying to do was protect them. Viv had treated her like she mattered beyond just the security she provided.
The elevator doors opened on their floor. After saying their good nights, Viv, Rowan, and Maddie headed for their rooms. Charlie turned and found Ben standing beside the elevator, hands in his pockets, looking uncertain.
“I should probably—” he started.
“Yeah, I need to—” Charlie said at the same time.
They both stopped. Ben's ears went red.
“You first,” Charlie said.
“I was just going to say I should head out. Let you get back to work.” He shifted his weight. “Unless you need me to... I don't know. Stick around?”
Yes. Stay. Please.
“Shane's coming to brief me on what he and Elissa found,” Charlie heard herself say. “But thanks for today. You were really helpful.”
Helpful. God, could she sound more like she was thanking a coworker?
Ben nodded, that uncertain look still on his face. “Right. Yeah. No problem.”