DENVER
A few days later Diana was called for another shoot, this time to Denver
The airport felt familiar now in a way it hadn’t just weeks ago.
Diana moved through security with calm confidence, rolling her suitcase behind her. She wore a soft knit top, dark stretch pants, and a light jacket — comfortable, polished, and completely herself.
When she reached her gate, she settled into a seat by the window and pulled out her phone to review the shoot schedule Lorraine had emailed.
A shadow crossed her table.
“Excuse me — is this seat taken?”
She looked up.
The man standing there looked about her age, maybe a little older. Casual jacket, travel backpack slung over one shoulder, kind eyes with the cautious expression of someone deciding whether to speak.
“No, go ahead,” Diana said.
“Thanks.”
He sat, setting his coffee on the armrest, but he didn’t open his laptop like most travelers. Instead, he glanced at her — then quickly away.
Then back again.
He wasn’t staring.
He was… curious.
They ended up in the same boarding group.
And then, somehow, in the same row.
He gestured toward the aisle seat. “You want window or aisle?”
“Window, please.”
He smiled and stood to let her pass.
“Denver for work?” he asked once they were seated.
“Yeah,” she said. “First time.”
“Same,” he replied. “Well, not first time flying, but first time to Colorado.”
They talked easily during takeoff — travel stories, favorite foods in different cities, the strange way airports made time feel unreal.
He noticed how relaxed she was, how her smile came easily, how she didn’t seem to carry herself like someone waiting to be judged.
He also noticed her beauty — not sharp or delicate, but warm and radiant, the kind that made him feel oddly steady just sitting beside her.
It surprised him.
He’d never quite felt that kind of pull before — not instant, not flashy, but deep and quiet.
And it made him nervous.
When the beverage cart came, they both ordered coffee.
“I’m Ethan, by the way,” he said, finally offering his hand.
“Diana.”
“Nice to meet you.”
He hesitated after a moment, then added, “I almost didn’t say anything earlier. Didn’t want to bother you.”
“You didn’t,” she said.
“I just… sometimes you see someone and get the feeling they’re headed somewhere interesting,” he said carefully. “Figured I’d say hello before we both disappeared into the airport crowd.”
Diana smiled, touched by the sincerity in his voice.
“Well, hello,” she said.
He smiled back — relieved, but still a little unsure.
Because what he didn’t say was this:
From the moment he’d seen her at the gate, something in him had settled. She had a presence that felt grounded and luminous at the same time. He didn’t know how to explain that without sounding strange.
So he kept it simple.
As the plane began its descent over the Rockies, sunlight caught the edge of the clouds and spilled gold into the cabin.
“Wow,” Diana breathed, looking out the window.
Ethan watched her reaction instead of the mountains.
“You look like someone who’s right where they’re supposed to be,” he said quietly.
She turned, surprised.
“Maybe I am,” she replied.
The plane dipped lower, Denver spreading out beneath them.
He considered asking for her number.
Then hesitated.
Did she get approached all the time? Would she think he was just another man trying his luck?
Still, as the wheels touched the runway, he made up his mind.
“Hey,” he said gently, “if you’d ever want a coffee while we’re both in town… I’d like that. No pressure.”
Diana looked at him for a moment — assessing, calm.
Then she smiled.
“Coffee sounds nice.”
And just like that, the wide world felt a little smaller — not because it was shrinking…
…but because connection had found her again, this time without conditions.
The plane descended over a sea of brown foothills and snow-dusted peaks rising sharp against the blue sky.
Diana pressed her forehead lightly to the window.
“Those are the Rockies?” she whispered.
The sunlight caught the ridges, turning them gold at the edges. They looked ancient. Steady. Immovable.
Something about them made her breathe deeper.
When she stepped outside the airport later, the air felt different — thinner, cooler, cleaner somehow. She tilted her face toward the sky like she could drink it in.
The car from the agency drove her toward downtown, mountains visible between buildings like silent guardians watching over the city.
She smiled the whole way.
Her hotel room overlooked a line of distant peaks beyond the city skyline. She set her suitcase down and walked straight to the window.
“I get to work here,” she murmured.
After a quick freshen-up, she headed downstairs to grab dinner before reviewing the shoot schedule.
The hotel grill was softly lit, the smell of grilled steak and rosemary floating through the air.
Diana stepped in — and nearly collided with a familiar voice.
“Diana?”
She turned.
Ethan stood there, a little surprised, a little amused.
“Well I’ll be,” he said. “Guess we both picked the same hotel.”
She laughed. “Looks like it.”
“Want to join me? I just got seated.”
She hesitated only a second. “Sure.”
They talked easily over dinner — not interviews, not impressing, just conversation.
“What brings you to Denver?” she asked.
“Environmental engineering,” he said. “Storm water redesign project. Making cities flood less and breathe better.”
“That’s… actually really cool,” she said.
“What about you? You said work, but you didn’t say what kind.”
She smiled. “Modeling. Outdoor campaign this week.”
He blinked. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
He studied her for a second — not in disbelief, but realization.
“That makes sense,” he said.
She laughed. “How?”
“You look like someone who belongs in open air,” he said simply. “Confident. Grounded.”
She felt warmth rise in her cheeks.
They talked about small towns, family expectations, finding paths that didn’t look like what people predicted.
“I’m still figuring things out,” she admitted.
“Good,” he said. “Means you’re alive.”
By the time coffee arrived, the conversation had settled into something comfortable and unforced.
Neither of them checked their phones.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
The next morning, Diana stood at the base of a mountain trail in layered fall clothing — fitted thermal top, structured jacket, hiking leggings that moved with her stride.
She caught her reflection in a car window and smiled.
She looked strong. Present. Beautiful.
The photographer called out, “Walk toward the light — like you’re heading somewhere you love.”
She didn’t have to pretend.
The jacket framed her shoulders, the fabric hugging her curves naturally. When she laughed mid-shot, the crew smiled too.
“She brings life to it,” someone said behind the monitor.
Diana breathed in pine-scented air and felt sunlight on her face.
She loved this.
Not because she was being admired.
Because she was being seen exactly as she was.
Back at the hotel that afternoon, still glowing from the shoot, she stepped into the lobby — and there he was again, laptop open at a small table.
He looked up and smiled like he’d been hoping to see her.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
She grinned. “I got to walk through mountains for work.”
“Sounds like you picked the right career.”
“Feels like it.”
They talked again, shorter this time, but easier.
Something was building.
Not rush. Not intensity.
Just quiet connection.
Later, back in her room Diana didn’t wait.
She stepped out onto the hotel balcony, the late-afternoon Denver air cool against her skin, mountains glowing gold in the distance. She hit “Call Home.”
Carl answered on the second ring.
“Well hey there, Rocky Mountain woman!”
She laughed. “Dad, they loved the photos.”
“How loved are we talking?”
“National campaign loved,” she said, hardly believing it herself. “And they’re already talking about booking me again for winter.”
There was a loud whoop on the other end.
“I knew it!” Carl shouted. “Jewel! Get in here — our girl’s going back to the mountains!”
Jewel’s voice came on a moment later, quieter but curious. “What’s this I hear?”
“They picked my photos for the big rollout,” Diana said gently. “They want me again.”
A pause.
“Well… that’s… that’s something,” Jewel said, voice careful but softer than before. “You must’ve done a good job.”
Diana smiled at the small shift in tone. “I tried my best.”
Carl came back on. “Proud of you, kiddo.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
She ended the call with warmth still settling in her chest.
For the first time, home didn’t feel like a place she had to explain herself.
It felt like a place cheering her on.
After a hot shower, wrapped in the hotel robe, Diana sat by the window with her journal.
Denver is beautiful. Today I wore clothes that fit me like they were meant for me, and I walked under mountains that made me feel small in the best way.
I ran into Ethan again. Easy to talk to. Doesn’t stare. Doesn’t try to fix. Just listens.
I’m not rushing anything. But it feels nice meeting someone who sees me as whole.
I used to think I had to earn space in the world. Now I just step into it.
She closed the journal and looked out at the mountains under moonlight.
Life felt wide.
And she wasn’t afraid of any of it.
The café was just a few blocks from the hotel, tucked between a bookstore and a climbing gear shop. The windows were open to the cool evening air.
Ethan was already there, two mugs on the table when she walked in.
“Figured you might want something warm after mountain work,” he said with a smile.
She sat down, touched by the gesture. “Perfect timing.”
“So,” he asked, “how’d the shoot go?”
“They loved it,” she said, a little breathless. “Might be coming back for winter.”
“That’s amazing,” he said, and she could hear it — no jealousy, no comparison. Just genuine happiness for her.
They talked for nearly an hour.
About travel. About family expectations. About finding paths they hadn’t planned but felt right anyway.
“I almost went into my dad’s business,” Ethan admitted. “But I realized I’d be living his life, not mine.”
Diana nodded slowly. “I know that feeling.”
He studied her for a moment, then said quietly, “You seem really at peace with yourself.”
She smiled. “Took a while.”
“I can tell,” he said.
There was no pressure in his voice. No agenda.
Just appreciation.
When they finally stood to leave, the sky had turned deep purple over the mountains.
“Dinner tomorrow?” he asked, hopeful but gentle.
She met his eyes, calm and sure.
“I’d like that.”
The morning air was crisp, sunlight just beginning to crest the ridgeline when Diana arrived on location. Today’s shoot was higher up the mountain, pine trees stretching tall behind the trailhead.
She layered into her wardrobe: a deep forest-green thermal top, insulated vest, and sturdy hiking pants tailored to move with her body. The stylist stepped back and smiled.
“You wear this like you actually live in it.”
Diana grinned. “That’s the goal, right?”
Out on the trail, the crew captured her in motion — adjusting her pack straps, stepping over rocks, laughing when a breeze caught her hair.
“Let’s get one where you look out over the valley,” the photographer called.
She climbed a short rise, turned toward the view, and let the moment settle. The mountains rolled endlessly, blue and silver in the distance.
Click.
“That’s it,” the photographer said quietly.
She wasn’t acting awe.
She felt it.
Between shots, crew members chatted with her easily. No one treated her like a novelty. She was part of the rhythm now — a professional doing her job well.
By the end of the day, her cheeks were pink from the mountain air, her legs pleasantly tired.
She loved this kind of tired.
That evening she had dinner with Ethan.
They met at a small bistro downtown, warm lights glowing against the cool night outside.
Ethan stood when she arrived.
“You look like you conquered a mountain,” he said.
“Just borrowed one for a few hours,” she laughed, sliding into her seat.
Dinner was easy from the start.
They talked about childhood memories — hers in Arkansas summers, his fishing with his grandfather in Missouri. They compared small-town quirks and the strange feeling of leaving home while still carrying it with you.
“I like how you talk about your work,” Ethan said at one point. “Not like it’s glamorous. Like it’s meaningful.”
She tilted her head. “It is meaningful. If someone sees those photos and feels like they belong outdoors too… that matters.”
He smiled softly. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
The conversation slowed naturally as dessert plates sat half-finished and the restaurant quieted around them.
He didn’t rush to impress her. She didn’t try to perform charm.
They just sat there, comfortable in the space between words.
Walking back toward the hotel, the mountains silhouetted against the night sky, he said, “I’m glad we ended up on the same flight.”
“Me too,” she replied.
There was no dramatic moment, no sudden declarations.
Just a shared smile and the quiet understanding that something good had begun — something based on presence, not pressure.
Diana was packing a small day bag for her flight home when her phone rang.
Lorraine Hamilton
She smiled before answering. “Hello?”
“Diana, I’ve got news — and you’re going to like this,” Lorraine said.
Diana sat on the edge of the hotel bed. “I’m listening.”
“The Denver client officially approved you for the winter campaign. Snow locations this time. Parkas, layered knits, cozy lodge scenes.”
Diana’s eyes widened. “Winter… in the mountains?”
“Exactly. Early January. We’ll fly you back out here — maybe even further into the Rockies this time.”
Diana laughed softly. “I’ve never owned real snow boots.”
“Well, now you will,” Lorraine said warmly. “You’ve become one of their signature faces.”
Diana felt the words settle deep.
Signature.
Not a one-time feature. Not an experiment.
A direction.
“We’ll send wardrobe sizing requests and travel info next week,” Lorraine added. “Rest up when you get home. You’ve earned it.”
After the call ended, Diana just sat there for a moment, smiling out the window at the distant peaks.
She was coming back.
The mountains weren’t a one-time adventure.
They were part of her path now.
That evening, Diana met Ethan in the hotel lobby. His backpack rested at his feet, boarding pass tucked into the side pocket.
“Heading out?” she asked gently.
“Morning flight,” he said. “Back to spreadsheets and drainage systems.”
She laughed. “Very glamorous.”
They stood there a moment, neither in a rush to fill the quiet.
“I’m glad we met,” he said finally.
“Me too.”
He hesitated, then added, “I don’t want to lose touch when we go back to real life.”
“This is real life,” she said with a small smile.
He nodded. “Then I don’t want to lose touch when we go back to different zip codes.”
She laughed softly. “That, I can agree with.”
They exchanged numbers — not in a flurry, not like teenagers, just a simple agreement to stay connected.
“I’ll text you when I get home,” he said.
“I’ll be in Arkansas by then.”
“Good. I want to hear how the mountains compare to your backyard.”
She smiled. “They’re both big in their own way.”
They hugged — not tight, not lingering, just warm and sincere.
As he walked toward the elevator, he turned back once and waved.
Diana stood in the lobby a moment longer, feeling something steady settle in her chest.
Not infatuation.
Not uncertainty.
Just the quiet beginning of something that might grow — if both of them let it.
Back at home the house smelled like comfort before Diana even opened the door.
Garlic. Roast beef. Something baking sweet in the oven.
“I’m home!” she called.
“In the kitchen!” Jewel answered.
Diana stepped in and found the table already half set, her father slicing meat while her mother stirred a pot on the stove.
“Well look at you,” Carl said, smiling wide. “Mountain woman returns.”
Diana laughed and hugged him, then leaned over to kiss her mother’s cheek.
“How was Denver?” Jewel asked, careful but curious.
“Beautiful,” Diana said. “Cold mornings, big skies… and the shoot went really well.”
Carl nodded proudly. “Knew it would.”
They sat down to eat — roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, fresh rolls, and apple cobbler waiting on the counter.
Diana ate with the quiet contentment only home-cooked food brings.
No cameras. No travel. Just warmth and familiarity.
Later, Diana slipped out to the porch where Carl was rocking gently in the swing.
“So,” he said, “mountains treat you right?”
“They did,” she smiled. “I think I did right by them too.”
He chuckled. “That boy you mentioned… Ethan?”
She nodded. “He’s kind. Easy to talk to. No pressure.”
Carl studied her a moment. “You look peaceful talking about him. That’s a good sign.”
She sat beside him. “I don’t want to rush anything. But it feels… healthy.”
Carl nodded. “Just remember — anyone worth keeping won’t ask you to shrink your life.”
She smiled softly. “I’m starting to believe that.”
Her journal entry that night included:
Home again. The mountains still feel close, even here.
Denver showed me I can belong in big places without losing who I am. I loved every step on those trails. Loved the way the clothes fit, the way the crew treated me like I was exactly right.
Ethan was… unexpected. Not flashy. Not trying to impress. Just steady. I feel calm around him.
I don’t know where that will go, but I’m not afraid of it.
I’m not afraid of much anymore.
She closed the journal, feeling settled.