Page 16 of Cold Front
“Didn’t sneak.” He shrugged. “You weren’t paying attention.”
Fair. I’d been too caught up in my little creative moment.
I slipped my phone into my hoodie pocket and leaned against the railing at Summit Pier. “What are you doing here? Didn’t peg you as a nature guy.”
Niall exhaled sharply, almost like a laugh. “I skate here sometimes.” He nodded toward the lake. “Not now, obviously.”
“Damn, I was hoping to see you do a triple axel.”
His mouth twitched, but he shook his head, exasperated. “Wrong sport, genius.”
I smirked, pleased to have cracked the fortress even a little. “So, what? You just stand here brooding at the water?”
“Something like that.” His gaze flicked over to me. “You actually into photography, or just bored?”
I hesitated, then pulled my phone back out and flipped the screen toward him. “Figured I’d start posting again. Just for fun.”
Beside me, Niall shifted, the quiet crunch of his steps against the dirt trail anchoring me to the moment. I was hyperaware of him in a way I hadn’t been before—of the solid weight of his presence, the faint scent of clean soap and something vaguely crisp, like winter waiting just beyond the trees. He radiated warmth despite the cool bite of the breeze, his broad shoulders blocking the sunlight for half a second as he stepped closer.
He took a second, peering at the image. “Not bad.”
“High praise from Captain Sunshine.”
Niall rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, looking out over the water. A comfortable silence stretched between us, the kind that didn’t demand filling.
I tilted my head toward the nearby trail winding up a gentle hill. “You ever hiked that?”
Niall followed my gaze. “Yeah. It’s easy. Why?”
“Give me the grand tour?” I flashed him a hopeful grin.
He hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But if you slow me down, I’m leaving you behind.”
“Noted. Let’s go, oh wise and noble guide.”
His responding grunt was pure Niall, but he started walking, and I fell into step beside him. As we climbed the trail, I took in the surroundings—the crunch of leaves under our shoes, the scent of damp earth, the way the light filtered through the thinning canopy. It was different from L.A. in every possible way, and I liked it.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. I turned just in time to spot a squirrel scampering onto a nearby rock, twitching its fluffy tail as it studied me with unbothered curiosity. My heart leapt with excitement. I’d seen squirrels before, obviously, but not like this. Not so close, so casual in its little woodland life.
I moved carefully, fumbling for my phone. “Holy crap,” I whispered, barely breathing as I snapped a picture. The squirrel twitched its nose, nibbling something between its tiny paws. I grinned, studying its every detail—the tiny claws, the alert eyes, the whiskers that twitched every time it chewed.
Niall watched me, unimpressed. “You good?”
“I’ve never seen one like this up close,” I admitted. “It’s just… doing its thing.”
“They’re everywhere.”
“Not where I’m from.”
He shook his head like I was a lost cause, but I caught the smallest hint of a smile before he turned back toward the trail.
“So,” I said, camera poised as I caught a shot of the lake from the higher vantage point, “tell me something about yourself. Something not hockey-related.”
He side-eyed me. “No.”
I laughed. “Come on. One thing.”
Silence.
