Bree and Jess shared looks. These two were her people, and River wasn’t going to railroad either of them into staying on the project if they weren’t interested.
Jessie cleared his throat. “So are we packing this up?”
“I guess that’s up to you two.” River hated admitting to these professionals that her first film was already skidding off the tracks, but they were her friends too. Which only made it slightly less embarrassing. “This is paying you next to nothing, and without the board’s backing, I’ll have to cover all of postproduction myself. I’m not sure this is worth your time.”
“We still are getting paid, right?” he asked. “Only on the back end, not up front?”
“Right,” River said. “But if they don’t end up buying the documentary, I’m not sure I can pay you as well as they would have.”
“Well, there’s no way I’m turning down a paid vacation in Alaska.” Bree lifted her face to the sky as a pleasant breeze brought the scent of saltwater to their nostrils, inhaling deeply.
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t want the shame of getting kicked off a small-town documentary.” Jessie grimaced at the very thought. “We’ll make short work of this, get you the production cred you need, and we’ll all go see some whales or something. Whatever it is people do around here.”
“It is a working vacation,” she reminded her friends. “And since I don’t have the extra money, you’ll have to whale watch on your own dime.”
“We’ll make it work,” Bree promised.
River hugged her friends, even though Jessie allowed the hug grudgingly. “Oh. Apparently we’re not welcome back at the hotel. Don’t you love how the resort is the only place in town that rents a room? Not even one bed-and-breakfast.”
Too bad the condominiums being built next to the resort weren’t finished yet. They seemed to be halted midconstruction.
Nothing ever seemed to throw Bree, who simply shrugged. “We can sleep in the car.”
Glancing at the already-stuffed vehicle, full of snacks and gear and one really big fluffy moose-themed blanket, River cringed. “I’m terrible. This whole thing is terrible. I’m standing here, seriously considering making the best crew in the industry share the back seat of our car.”
“Some of my best memories are in the back seat of a Subaru,” Jessie murmured.
Barking out a laugh, Bree said, “I doubt it. Your best memories are eating your grandmother’s pot roast while playing video games.”
“Why do you always have to bring Nana into it? You know it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement—”
The two began to argue good-naturedly, as if River hadn’t already proven herself to be the worst boss ever. And as good of friends as they were, neither Bree nor Jessie would put their professional reputations at risk for her. The industry was too cutthroat.
Their faith in her filled River’s heart with warmth.
“It’ll make a fun story, sleeping in our SUV.” Now Bree seemed excited. Between their matching enthusiasm, River couldn’t help but join in.
“Okay, fine. We’re still making a documentary, folks. Let’s go find a safe place for you two to get some more B-roll. I’ll get to the bottom of this permit thing.”
They piled into the car, then pulled back onto the road. They were halfway to their next filming site when suddenly River gasped. Bree braked, looking for whatever made River so horrified. “What is it?”
“Oh crap. We forgot Easton.”
• • •
He’d just been trying to be nice. In the future, Easton was going to stick with aloof, unapproachable, and downright surly.
Nice was a pain in the ass. Nice earned him a redhead with a permanent marker and a mischievous look on her face.
Don’t stop, River had written on her makeshift sign. Filming movie.
Which was how Easton Lockett, one of the most respected men in Moose Springs, found himself standing on the side of the road with a pizza box sign, telling everyone not to stop for the woman walking down the road.
If only he’d made the same choice for himself.
The absolute last person Easton wanted to see coming down the road at this moment turned around the bend, the heavy off-road tires of her sleek black Jeep slapping the pavement. There was nowhere to hide. And knowing his sister, there was nowhere he could hide to keep her from finding him in a pride-compromising position.
With a groan of dismay, Easton waggled the sign at her as she slowed down, then pulled off the side of the road behind his truck.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing for the last hour,” Easton replied, bemused.
Ashtyn Lockett had been a thorn in Easton’s side since the day she was born fifteen seconds before him. At some point since he’d seen her yesterday, she’d decided to dye her pixie cut a vibrant aquamarine with pink tips. Next week, it would be something different but equally bold.
She must’ve been taking the day off by the water, because only half of the piercings she normally sported jewelry in were filled. Her nose piercing and eyebrow were adorned, but the multiple holes in her ears were piercing free. Unlike River, his twin was dressed for the weather. A ribbed tank top showing the extensive and expensive tattoos on her arms. Shorts and sandals with bright nail polish from her morning pedicure. Even brighter colors on her fingernails.
Easton had spent a lot of his life glaring over his sister’s head at the guys who were interested in her, but there really was no need. Ash had never needed anyone to protect her. She was perfectly capable of handling her business all on her own.
“What the hell are you doing?” Brown eyes the exact same color as Easton’s eyes widened.
Sighing, Easton lifted his pizza box up in the air, turning it toward the oncoming traffic.
“I’m being a Good Samaritan.”
“Are you? Because it kind of looks like you’re making an idiot out of yourself for some tourists.”
“They’re not tourists.” Deep denial was as good a coping mechanism as any. “They’re filming some sort of movie around the bend. And before you grill me, I don’t know anything about it. I saw a woman walking down the road, and I stopped to see if she needed help. She nearly skinned me alive for interrupting her shot.”
Ash rolled her eyes. “Why would they pick here to film? Don’t they know everyone’s going to slow down and see what’s wrong?”
“That’s what I said, but she’s…well…determined.”
Gorgeous. Fiery. Way more trouble than he needed on any given day.
“How long are you planning on standing here?”
Easton didn’t know, but he’d been out there for long enough; even his arms were starting to get sore. Finally, a familiar SUV drove past and performed a highly illegal U-turn, pulling right next to Easton. River stuck her head out from the passenger seat, her face lighting up as she took in him and his sign.
“No wonder no one stopped,” she said. “You look like you want to kill someone.”
“That’s resting Easton face.” Ash smirked at him. “He’s normally worse.”
He wasn’t speaking to either of them. Nope. Not a word.
“Hey, thanks for the help. Sorry we forgot to tell you we got the shot. Here, dinner is on us.” Leaning out the window, River tucked a twenty-dollar bill in his shirt collar, not giving Easton a chance to refuse before Bree, the driver, pulled away.
Ash lost it, leaning back against her Jeep, laughing so hard, her mascara started to run.
“If you could see your face,” she all but cried.
“I feel dirty,” he murmured, taking the twenty and stuffing it into his pocket.
“You are dirty.” Gasping for breath, she wiped her eyes. “I think I love her, whoever she is.”
The feeling wasn’t mutual.
With an annoyed grunt, Easton tossed the pizza box in the back of Ash’s Jeep. “Compost this, please.”
Since his services were no longer needed, Easton decided there was no reason to stand there any longer, giving his sister ammunition.
“You never saw this,” he warned her.
“Oh, everyone saw this.”
Which was so true. In a place like Moose Springs, memories were long. The town would never—ever—let Easton live this down.
“Destroy the evidence, Ash. If you love me, destroy the evidence.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” his twin teased. As he headed for his truck, she called after him. “I might frame it instead!”
• • •
River had to give them credit. Moose Springs was really good at being a total pain in the ass.
She’d been professional. She’d been nice. She’d even been accommodating. But what she refused to be was railroaded by a man and a sandwich.
It was time to play hardball with Officer Jonah.
“As I said before, I’m here to pick up my filming permits. And I’m not leaving until someone in this town can actually help me.” She was guessing he hadn’t heard her the first few times over the sound of mayo dripping down his chin.
Officer Jonah chewed on his hoagie for a while, chewed on it some more, and made a few thinking noises that left her wanting to stuff what was left of the sandwich in his face. Then he scratched the back of his head.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m pretty sure you have to go to the city hall for that.”
River braced her hands on her hips. “The city hall, huh?”
“Yep.”
“So you’re assuming I’m stupid.”
Intelligent eyes glanced at her, a man caught in the act of being sneaky.
“Go ahead,” she encouraged him. “Mansplain it for me. I couldn’t possibly have known that was the place to go to get a permit, but I’m sure glad you’re helpful enough to set me straight.”
River could hear her drawl coming out, dripping with sarcasm, and she didn’t bother to try to hide it. “Or I could save you some time and tell you that so far, myself and my people have spent countless hours on hold with a city hall that doesn’t actually exist.”
River continued in a firm voice. “Did you know that the address for the Moose Springs City Hall is very hard to find? Hard enough that I had to call the state government and stay on hold with them before somebody finally came up with the address to a barn on the far side of town, with weeds literally as tall as I am. But if you fight through the weeds, you find a sign on the door that says Be Back in Ten. Do you want to hazard a guess as to who came back in ten?”
The deputy policewoman one desk over shared an amused look with Officer Jonah. He wiped a thumb to the corner of his mouth. “No one?”
“No one, Officer Jonah. No one at all.”
Maybe—just maybe—River had made a career in acting because she had a flare for the dramatic. She let that hang between them, holding the policeman’s eyes.
“So I went to the DMV, who told me to go back to the city hall, because permits were only processed through the city hall. At which point I told the clerk I would immortalize them in film as the least helpful human being on the planet if they didn’t tell me something. So it was suggested I find a woman named Ashtyn Lockett, the keeper of all the permits.”
The deputy tried and failed to cover her laugh.
“Assuming I would get nothing but more runaround from the lovely locals in this town, I came here. Because who would know more than the local police about government type matters? Only there was a sign on your door saying you were getting a sandwich at Frankie’s. From what I can tell, there is no place called Frankie’s.”
“It’s a real nice restaurant.” He hefted what was left of his sandwich to show her. “Pastrami and provolone.”
“I’m sure it is. It’s also not listed on the internet, in the yellow pages, or on any of the buildings in Moose Springs. And everyone I asked either hadn’t heard of it or pretended they hadn’t heard me. Again, I was referred to Ashtyn Lockett. I assume she’s used to scare people.”
“Upon occasion,” he admitted.
Watching him chewing on his sandwich like a cow chewing its cud, River had to contain her natural inclination to rip the thing out of his mouth and cram it up his nostrils, one slice of pastrami at a time.
Instead, River drew herself up, steeled her spine, and said, “Officer Jonah. I am filming a documentary in the town of Moose Springs. I will be doing this whether or not I have the proper permits filed with the proper authorities. Because unlike the last film crews that tried to complete this assignment, I cannot be run off. So where is my permit?”
And that should have been that.
Only…well…it wasn’t.
“I’d check with city hall, ma’am. They’re in charge of all the permit type things.”
River wasn’t too dignified to scream.
Which of course was the exact moment Easton—in all his bearded, rugged glory—had to duck his head through the door. Her scream had been mighty, and his eyes widened. Easton looked back and forth between them, a familiar take-out container in his hand.
He had his own sandwich. Son of a bitch.
“Is everything okay?” Easton asked cautiously, pausing inside the front door.
He was asking her, but Officer Mayoface decided to answer. “We’re all good, Easton. Miss Lane—”
“Ms. Lane is fine, Easton, thank you,” River cut off the policeman. She twisted back on him. “And I didn’t tell you my name.”
“Nope. But I’ve had half a dozen calls from concerned citizens this morning involving you harassing them.” Jonah took another bite, mumbling around his pastrami, “To be honest, that’s not the best way to start out in this town.”
Taking a calming breath, River centered herself. She would not suffer any further indignity of letting him get to her. Before River accepted this job, she hadn’t understood why no one had been here to document the town already. Moose Springs was gorgeous, the mountainscape stunning, and the sheer volume of wildlife any filmmaker’s dream. Now she got it.
They had no intention of giving her—or anyone—filming permits.
“Let’s start this over again. I have been hired by the Alaskan Tourism Board—”
“Which is run by a nonprofit organization and not a state body of government,” Jonah said, interrupting her. “Meaning you don’t have a pot to piss in, legally speaking. If the mayor doesn’t want to grant you the right to film in town, he has the power to decline the request.”
Okay. A mayor. She could work with that. “Who’s the mayor?”
Jonah scratched his chin. “Well, to be honest, he’s kind of taking a break.”
“I’m sorry, he’s what?”
“It’s been a busy year, what with fighting to keep the town from being overrun by tourists and condos and Santa mooses…”
Did he say Santa mooses?
“Anyway, whenever he gets around to it, the mayor will be in charge of staffing city hall. They’re the ones who run the website with your permits. But no one wants much to do with those kinds of jobs, and the mayor’s been awfully busy. Plus, he’s getting married soon.”
River took a deep steadying breath. “So you’re telling me, if I want to cash my paycheck and make my film, I have to wait for a town that doesn’t have a governing body and a mayor on an undetermined hiatus to appoint a city hall employee to retrieve an email that says I have a permit?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Or it’ll stay in some email black hole of nothingness, unrecognized and irretrievable.”
“That’s right.”
Which meant never. She was never getting her permit.
“Do you know what happens to good towns when documentary makers g
o rogue?” River said ominously. “It’s not pretty, Jonah. It’s not pretty at all.”
“I’d strongly encourage you not to film guerrilla style, ma’am. The town is very serious about that.”
“Who? Who is really serious about it? The empty barn of people?”
“I suppose the one who’ll have to write you the tickets. Or put you in holding for disturbing the peace.” Officer Jonah would have seemed a lot more official without a bit of lettuce stuck in his teeth, but River had the feeling he was completely serious.
“We’d rather not have any more tourists,” the policewoman said cheerfully, sounding less than apologetic. “They tend to make a mess of things around here.”
River didn’t have a good answer for that, and Officer Jonah had already turned his full attention to the bag of chips accompanying his sandwich.
“Carbs kill,” she told him with a snarl, turning on her heel. Easton moved to the side of the doorway, out of her way, which was smart because River was ready to walk right through him.
“Your town sucks,” she told Easton as she stomped past him. Since he’d been nice enough to hold a sign for her, she didn’t stick her tongue out at the giant of a man when he stretched out an arm to hold the door open for her.
“Only sometimes,” he replied with a wink.
• • •
Easton always had questionable taste in women. Which was why he found himself ignoring his original task and following her outside.
He had to give River credit. She was ballsy. Most people wouldn’t have been so willing to attack Easton’s truck in front of a police station, with him standing there, watching her in bemusement. Technically, River was only kicking at the tire with her foot, but still. Property destruction was property destruction. At least she was smart enough not to kick the squad car.
“Stupid…piece of…son of a…sandwich eater…”
Each kick was punctuated by an insult until she finally stood back and riffled through her purse.
“If you’re thinking of keying it, you might want to reconsider.” Easton leaned against the passenger side door, arms folded loosely over his chest. “I draw the line at actual damage.”
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