Chapter 9 Nicole
Nicole woke slowly, blinking against a pale stream of winter light that filtered through the mismatched curtains covering the Powder Keg’s back bedroom window. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was, and the unfamiliar scent of wood smoke and old pine only deepened her confusion.
Then it all came rushing back—the storm, the long night, and Cameron sitting across from her in front of the fireplace, their legs stretched toward the flickering flames.
Her heart warmed at the memory. They’d stayed up for hours, talking and laughing while the wind howled outside the old cabin until well past midnight.
They hadn’t played games, but stayed wrapped in blankets, her head on his shoulder while they talked about their childhoods, their passions, their lives, and loves… or lack of them.
On a sigh, Nicole rolled onto her side, hugging the thin blanket. The blow-up mattress he’d covered for her creaked beneath her as a smile lifted her lips.
Maybe it was the secret, special feeling of being trapped in a cabin in a storm, or maybe it was the undeniable chemistry between them. Maybe it was…real.
The thought made her heart jump a little, as it had last night when he finished getting this room ready for her and held her in the warmest embrace goodnight.
He’d pressed his lips to her hair and said something sweet she didn’t remember now, but only because she’d been wondering if she was going to kiss him.
They didn’t kiss, but that didn’t make their connection any less powerful. In fact, the build-up would just make the first kiss even better. And after last night, she was pretty sure there would be one.
She peeked toward the cracked bedroom door, hearing the low groan of the couch springs from the front room. He must be up.
She brushed her tangled hair out of her face and sat up, grateful for the privacy and the heater he’d found.
He’d stretched out on the couch, saying he’d done it a hundred times after late-night ski patrol shifts.
Still, she couldn’t shake how gallant it had felt—him giving her the cozy spot, no questions asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The clink of a metal scoop and the first aroma of coffee floated in.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he called from outside the door. “Did you survive your first official night at the Keg?”
Nicole grinned, her stomach fluttering. “Morning. Barely. Do I smell coffee?”
“Black and bitter.”
“Be right there.” After dressing in her under layer and ski pants, then using a small powder room, she padded out to find Cameron holding a mug and looking outside.
He wore thermals and a long-sleeved black base layer that clung to his broad shoulders.
His dark blond hair was damp, like he’d splashed water on his face.
“Come,” he said, beckoning her closer. “Look at the world after a storm.”
Outside, the storm’s fury had been replaced by a crystalline stillness.
Two feet of untouched powder blanketed the slopes, blinding white under the rising sun.
The trees sparkled, weighed down by ice, and in the distance, the groomers were already making their slow, deliberate passes across the ski runs.
“It’s like another planet,” she breathed.
Cameron handed her a steaming mug, their fingers brushing briefly. “The calm after the chaos. Best part of a storm.”
She sipped and nearly moaned. It was strong, and the warmth spread through her in the most heavenly way.
“Thanks for staying with me,” she said softly, meeting his gaze over the rim of her mug as she sat at a rickety table in the corner. “You didn’t have to, but you made last night…really nice. Cozy, even. Everything okay with your sister?”
“She claims to have loved the solitude.” His smile turned sheepish as he joined her. “I liked being here with you. More than liked it.”
Nicole’s heart tripped over itself. She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Good, because I liked it, too.”
For a moment, they just sat there, quietly sipping coffee while the golden morning light filled the cabin.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “you’re kind of a natural caretaker.”
He arched a brow. “Caretaker? Sounds like a handyman for the garden.”
“A protector,” she explained. “Not just your chosen profession, but in everyday life.”
“You think?”
“You made me feel safe last night, despite the fact that a major and probably very dangerous storm was raging.”
“This place is solid.”
“You’re solid,” she corrected, making him give in to a smile. “You just…take care of people without making a big deal about it.”
Cameron ducked his head, clearly pleased. “Maybe more than people would like me to.”
She frowned, not sure if she followed.
“I’ve been accused of smothering,” he explained as he finished his coffee and stood. “But mostly by my sister. Oh, and don’t forget you have one very important thing to do before you can officially leave the Powder Keg.”
Nicole tilted her head. “I do?”
He nodded toward the far wall, where a massive wooden support beam stretched across the room. As she got closer, she realized the wood was covered with names—scratched, burned, and Sharpied into history.
“Oh, the whiteout wall,” she realized, laughing as she bent to read a few. “‘Shredzilla 2010’…‘Powder Hounds Rule’…Wow, some of these are ancient.”
“I told you, it’s a rule,” Cameron said proudly. “Anyone who’s ever been snowed in here has to sign the Whiteout Wall. It’s like the Keg’s history book.”
Nicole ran her fingers over the rough wood, smiling at the quirky nicknames and doodles. A tiny snowman drawn in blue ink. A jagged heart with initials inside. Then she froze.
“No way,” she whispered as a thousand goosebumps danced up her arms.
“What?” Cameron came over, peering over her shoulder.
She pointed to a neat, careful carving near the base of the beam.
Flying Jack Kessler 1982
“That’s my dad!” she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and delight. “Oh, my gosh, he was, what? Seventeen? He must’ve been here with his friends.”
Cameron laughed. “Makes sense. The locals all know about this place. And honestly, the Keg probably hasn’t changed a whole lot since then.”
Nicole traced the letters with a light touch, unexpectedly emotional. It felt like she was standing in her father’s footsteps, like a bridge between the girl she’d been before her accident and the woman she was becoming now.
“He would love this,” she murmured. “Skiing has always been our thing, even when I swore I hated it. Being here…it feels like I’m getting that piece of us back. Thank you.”
Impulsively, she hugged him, and he held her tightly, neither of them caring about the bulky ski thermals.
When she pulled back, he handed her a Sharpie. “Your turn. Leave your mark.”
Grinning through tears, Nicole carefully wrote Nicole Kessler and the year just below her father’s name. And she snapped a picture with her phone because Dad would love this.
After that, they geared up, tugging on boots and zipping coats. As Cameron tightened his gloves, he glanced at her.
“So, what’s your plan for the day?”
Nicole shrugged. “I texted Bri last night and asked if she’d cover the ski shed this morning, since I didn’t know when we’d get back. I’ll probably go to Snowberry Lodge and bore my dad with ski stories.”
“Thrill him, more like.”
She laughed, liking that he really understood that.
“Or…you could come back to my place and meet Elise.”
Nicole froze. The invitation was so unexpected that she barely managed to keep her voice steady. “I—I’d love to. Really. But, um, can we stop by my townhouse first so I can change out of this?” She gestured to her ski gear with a sheepish laugh.
“Of course,” he said warmly, clearly pleased she’d agreed. His grin turned teasing. “But only if you can keep up with me on the way down.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s on.”
They stepped outside where the powder gleamed like sugar under the bright blue sky. The silence was almost holy, and Nicole’s breath caught at the sight.
“This is every skier’s dream,” Cameron said reverently. “Two feet of fresh powder and no one else around.”
They put on their skis and Nicole pushed off, bracing for fear. But the moment she sliced into the soft, forgiving snow, the whole world floated away and she went gliding through clouds.
Cameron whooped ahead of her, spinning in a graceful arc, and Nicole laughed, exhilarated. She followed him down the slope, her heart soaring. She’d follow him anywhere, she realized. Even to meet the sister he adored. Especially to meet her.
When Cameron turned his sturdy Toyota Tundra off the highway on the rural outskirts of Heber City, the whole world seemed to widen under an endless sky.
The mountains around this valley were some of the most beautiful in Utah, rimming stretches of fields dotted with red barns, cattle, and spacious family ranches like the one he told her the Hale family owned on twenty acres.
“It’s so pretty out here,” Nicole said, forehead against the cool window glass as he shared stories about growing up in this bucolic area.
“It’s different from Park City or even Salt Lake,” Cameron said, glancing out the window as though seeing it through her eyes. “But I wouldn’t live anywhere else.”
She could see why he loved it. The Wasatch mountains glowed to the west, the sun winking through the snow-covered canyons under a deep blue sky. Outside of town there were no strip malls or hotels, just old brick houses, horses, sheds, and land.
They turned again onto a narrow lane flanked by cottonwoods, the branches glazed with ice. At the end sat a long, sixties-style brick ranch house that looked both loved and lived-in.
A wide carport hugged one end. Well beyond it, a much smaller second structure was tucked behind the tree line, bigger than a garage, but not a full-sized home.
“That’s me,” Cameron said, nodding toward the little house. “The permanent guest.”
“Have you ever considered living a little closer to Deer Valley or Park City?”