“Ouch.” He gave her an injured look. “What was that for?”

“Why am I always the one who gets in trouble?”

“Because you’re the one who starts it.”

“Do not,” she protested, realizing she’d gotten a little loud only when Callum’s eyes focused on her again. Dropping her gaze, she studied the half-frozen puddle in front of her boots. It seemed as if every single time she did something embarrassing, Callum was there, watching her with the look—a mix of exasperation and irritated bafflement. The sad part was that, even after three months of getting the look, Lou still wasn’t able to smother the obnoxious butterflies that fluttered in her belly whenever she was the center of his attention.

“You done?” he asked. At her nod, he jerked his chin toward the icy reservoir.

Lou fell in line with the six other divers, taking slow, exaggerated steps to avoid tripping over her own neoprene-wrapped feet or slipping on the ice. As they reached the large opening that had been carved out earlier in the day for the training exercise, Lou peered at the water, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, stepping up beside her and following her gaze as if looking for the answer to his own question.

She shrugged. “All that ice around the edge makes the water look really cold.”

Bumping her with his elbow, he snorted. “It is cold, genius. It’s literally freezing, which explains all the hard stuff we’re standing on.”

Lou elbowed him back. “Dork,” she grumbled.

He smirked at her.

“The ice is just under ten inches here,” Callum announced in his schoolteacher tone—the one that always made Lou want to act up like a contrary third-grader. “Is that thick enough for a group of people to walk on?”

“Wouldn’t it have been better to confirm that before we left shore?” Lou muttered, making Derek snicker. Callum sent a sharp look her way.

“It’s thick enough,” Chad answered, taking a step toward Callum. “It’d even be okay to drive on it.”

“Drive what?”

“A car or light truck,” Chad said quickly. “For anything more, twelve inches would be better.”

“That’s what she said,” Derek whispered loud enough to make everyone except Callum laugh. Even Chad grinned before dropping his chin to hide it.

Callum let his gaze fall on each person in turn. The chuckles died, replaced by awkward coughs.

“So this ice is safe?” he finally asked when silence had fallen over the team members.

“Yes.” Chad was the first to speak up again, and Lou winced. He’d obviously already forgotten the four hours they’d spent watching training videos that morning.

Wilt gave a slow, sad shake of his head. “No ice is safe,” he said in the Arkansas drawl he held on to even after forty years in Colorado. Lou liked Wilt. He was a soft-spoken man who kept quiet unless he had something important to say. When he spoke, everyone shut up and listened. Wilt was in his sixties, with a thick mustache that drooped over his mouth, giving him a perpetually mournful expression.