“They were the best tents that didn’t require a small mortgage to buy,” River countered.
Easton shook his head. “You want to cut corners, do it somewhere else. Not in your gear, and not on a climb like this.”
“I could always pay you less and get the better tents.” The option had appeal, but Easton only stared at her. She stared back. His eyes narrowed. Hers narrowed a lot more. The beard took on a stubborn set, bristling out. River didn’t have a beard, so she pushed out her chin and pretended.
“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding concerned.
“Intimidating you.”
“Are you sure that’s what you’re doing?”
“Definitely.”
Unlike most, he didn’t even flinch under her stare. The man was immovable, and the sparkle in his eyes only grew the farther she lifted her chin.
“I’m not letting my clients turn into Popsicles. Get better tents,” he told her.
“Fine,” River sighed. “I’ll figure it out.”
• • •
If looks could kill, Easton would be bleeding out with an ice pick wedged into his own crevasse.
Compromise didn’t seem like her forte, and Easton knew a determined woman when he saw one. When faced with someone who didn’t play well with others, the best thing to do was know what motivated them. As Easton and River continued to sort through their gear, Easton decided to pry a little.
“Why the shift from acting to filming?” he asked her.
“Do you want the on the record answer or the off the record answer? Because one is a whole lot sweeter than the other.”
“I never needed much sugarcoating. Tell me the real reason.”
“Men suck. I’m planning on destroying them all.”
At her dead serious tone, Easton found himself smiling. “See? My first instincts were right about you. You’re a threat.”
“And don’t you forget it.” River flashed him a quick grin. Just like that, she wasn’t ready to kill him anymore. The woman was quicksilver, and normally, that wasn’t his thing.
But, man. He liked how she kept him on his toes.
“I’m not one for standing around and watching things go to crap.” River’s voice firmed. “It was time to find something new. Being in front of the camera hasn’t been working out too well lately, so it’s time to try being behind it.”
After a moment, she arched an eyebrow at him. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you a threat?”
By the humorous look on her face, he could tell she wasn’t talking about a threat to herself. With a low chuckle, Easton said, “Only to the fish I catch for dinner or the mountains I try to summit.”
“Do you normally climb Mount Veil? Denali’s the tallest on the continent.”
She’d done her homework. Easton nodded. “Most of my climbs are on Denali. I’d rather go up the Old Man, but most people don’t come all this way to climb a fourteener.”
“You don’t do this year-round, right? Taking people out climbing is seasonal, isn’t it?”
“Unfortunately.” Easton shrugged. “I teach indoor climbing when the weather turns colder. Plus, my sister runs supplies in the area in her helicopter. She’s busier in winter, so Dad and I help. Ash is the one flying us to the mountain. ”
“In her helicopter. Your sister is so cool.”
“My sister is terrifying.”
“You don’t look like the type to be frightened of much. Only women, huh?”
Easton caught her eye. “You’d have loved my mother. She was almost as tough as you. I’d rather climb Everest naked than tick her off.”
“That’s an image,” River murmured, her eyes flickering across his shoulders. “Have you ever been to Everest? With your clothes on?”
“Nope.” He let that hang between them to make her grin, then he added, “But damn, do I want to go.”
“Maybe that’s what I’ll do.” River tilted her head in consideration. “Go around the world and film mountain climbs.”
“I hope you’ve got some money put away,” Easton said. “I’ve been saving for years to get to Nepal by myself. Taking three people up there, plus the cost of getting the equipment up—” Midsentence, Easton stopped. “Hey, speaking of, I need to see the film equipment.”
A hand flap was all he received. “It’s fine. We’ve been hauling it everywhere. You don’t have to worry. It’s not very much weight.”
“You’re paying me to worry, River,” he reminded her. For some reason, he liked the way her name felt on his tongue. Clearing his throat, Easton turned back to his inspections.
Easton already knew River was a competent climber based on how she had organized her pack. She had no issues with her gear, and she seemed in good enough shape for the climb.
“How many fourteeners have you done?”
“Only Rainier.” Upon seeing his frown, River frowned in return. “Why? Is that a problem?”
“The Old Man might not be as tall as Everest or the rest of those monsters, but he’s got more than a few tricks up his sleeve. If you don’t respect him, he’s not going to give you a pass.”
“Isn’t that why we hired you? Aren’t you supposed to be the best?”
The challenge in her question pricked at his pride, and Easton raised his eyes to hers. She wasn’t wrong. If anyone knew these mountains, it was Easton. Mountaineering had been in his family for multiple generations. Mount Veil wasn’t only his paycheck. It was his way of life.
“I’ll do my job up there,” Easton told her, holding River’s gaze. “But I can’t carry three climbers on my back if things go wrong.”
“Things won’t go wrong.” River’s confident smile could take down anyone within a five-mile radius.
“So why are you making the documentary? Other than the tourism board asking you to do it?”
“Two years ago, the best part I’ve ever seen in my life was dropped in my lap. The script was terrible, but the part…” Expression dreamy, River settled down on the grass next to him. “The part was amazing. It was a historical film, set in the early 1900s. It was about early women mountaineers. I already liked to climb, so I fought for the part.”
“What movie is it?” Easton was deeply attracted to strong women, and the idea of a movie about a group of them doing something he loved was right up his alley.
River’s dreamy expression turned fierce. “It’s not. The project got axed before the first scene was filmed. Back to a stack of terrible roles that want all my clothes off. I don’t mind a love scene, but what’s been offered has been gratuitous garbage or a joke. I didn’t work this hard to learn my craft to go down like that.”
“So you decided to…I don’t know the right word for it. Be the film person?”
“Directing,” River supplied for him. “Producing. And don’t get me started on that. The industry is terrible about letting women behind the camera. After two years of fighting, the Moose Springs documentary was the first job I’ve been offered.”
“So now you’re here.”
“I’m here, and with your help, we’re going to make the most amazing documentary about the most amazing place, Easton. And it will matter. What we’re doing now matters. My time and talent will not be wasted on shower scenes in bad horror movies.”
Something told him that was what River was chasing, as much as the summit.
“To be honest, I can’t imagine you not getting the parts you want. When I was looking up everyone last night, I kept running into phrases like ‘magnetic’ and ‘America’s sweetheart.’” Her snort was so indelicate, Easton couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not your choice of words?”
“My publicist’s choice of words. She gets paid very well.”
Easton glanced toward the direction of the mountain in question, hidden behi
nd the closer peaks in the range. “Are you sure you want to do this, River? Veil’s a hard climb. People have died up there.”
“I’m not afraid.”
He shifted on the grass, resting his arms on his knees. “I am. You should always be a little afraid of what the mountains are capable of doing. We’re nothing to them, a speck on the ground. A flea trying to hop to the top of a man’s head.”
“Some men are taller than others, cowboy. Harder to hop up.” River shot him a grin, and Easton found himself returning it.
“What?” she asked.
“I like your accent,” he told her. “It only comes out when you feel strongly about something.”
They fell quiet, the silence between them awkward. But when Easton looked over, River was gazing at him, her expression unreadable.
“Hey, Easton? Did you want to…I don’t know…do something after this? Get a drink?”
He hesitated, not sure what he wanted to say. Yes, because…well…yes. And no, because…definitely no. But probably yes.
“I’m not trying to get you drunk,” she said, rolling her eyes in playful exasperation. “Can you even get drunk?”
“Not that I’ve noticed so far.”
“Is that a no?”
“No. If you get your friends here before the day runs out, I might even give you a yes.”
Had he agreed to a date? Or drinks between two traveling companions? Easton didn’t know, and the proximity to her wasn’t helping clear his head. Putting distance between them was probably a good idea.
Moving on to the next pile, Easton had started to make mental note of what extra rope he needed to bring when an unknown vehicle pulled into the park beside them. He frowned until he recognized the driver, Dillon, and the two people climbing out of the back seat. Dillon rolled down the window.
“Hey, East.”
“New car?” he asked Dillon, the town’s most infamous rideshare driver.
“Yep, she’s a beauty all right.”
She was a Ford, so he was betting River wouldn’t agree. Sure enough, a quick glance to his client showed her hiding her smirk behind her coffee cup.
Several years earlier, a failed career in stock car racing had sent Dillon home to Moose Springs with his tail between his legs. Scruffy, young, and hungry, Dillon hadn’t found his way yet, but he had found an excuse to stay behind the wheel, even if not at the speed he was accustomed. Not all the resort guests zipped around in Ferraris or were driven in high-dollar coaches. Some rented normal cars or took rideshares around town and to their sightseeing destinations.
Dillon was nice, but you couldn’t pay Easton enough money to climb in a vehicle with him.
“I hope you people know how expensive rideshares are in this town.” Jessie paused for effect as he and Bree hauled their equipment out of the car’s back seat. “And there was a moose. I was filming a moose, River, and this one didn’t spook and try to trample anyone.” He hefted his camera. “If you want more than thirty seconds of wildlife on this thing, you have to let me film them.”
“There are a lot of moose,” Easton whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth. “Named the town after them.”
River coughed to hide her laugh.
“Is she the actress everyone is talking about?” Dillon asked.
“Director and producer,” Easton corrected the kid. For some reason, it annoyed him a little that Dillon seemed interested in River. Not that everyone didn’t already stare at her, and the younger man wasn’t a bad guy. It was just...annoying.
Easton stood and moved to the window, bracing a hand on the hood of Dillion’s sedan.
“They’re with me.”
Three words spoken pleasantly, but the right three words for this town. Dillon shrugged, shooting Easton an amused look. “Well, you all have a nice day. Remember my number if you want a ride again. I’ll be here all week.”
“What number was it again?” Bree started to ask, amenable to the suggestion, but Jessie started making cutting gestures across his throat. “I mean…no. We’re…no.”
Disappointed, Dillon drove away.
“A moose, River.” Jessie turned back to her, petulant and grumpy.
“I’ll find you another one.” Easton gave Jessie a companionable thump on the shoulder.
“Stop whining,” Bree told him, walking over to River. “We got plenty on the handheld alone. After we add in your footage, we’ll have more than enough. River, look at this.”
When she opened a handheld video camera, playing back the film, both women’s heads turned to the screen, utterly focused on what they were looking at.
Which left no one to care how bad Jessie felt. Except for Easton.
Jessie sucked in a deep breath, as if put upon terribly. “The only thing worth shutting down for was getting to eat something. Is there food here? No? Exactly.”
“Are you going to complain this much on the mountain?” Easton asked.
“Depends on them.” Jessie frowned, then he sighed again. “And my blood sugar.”
Checking the time on his phone, Easton said, “We’ll run through this and then get some dinner. My treat. The company can pay for all of us tonight. And you can park the car at my place. I don’t have extra rooms, but there’s a couch and you have your sleeping bags. Plus, there’s a shower.”
Normally, Easton would never have made the offer, but…well…he didn’t care for the idea of River sleeping in a car in the middle of a parking lot somewhere, even if it had been their own faults.
Jessie opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to find anything in the offer to complain about. “Okay, that’s a good deal.”
Feeling her watching him, Easton glanced at River. When she winked at him, his hands stopped working. There was no other reason for the rope to slip out of his fingers.
A smirk touched Jessie’s lips. “Don’t do it, buddy. She’s chewed up and spit out tougher than you.”
Easton didn’t need the warning. He wasn’t surprised one bit by that piece of information.
“Oh!” Bree held up her phone, perking up. “How about this?”
“Looks good.” River took the phone and tilted it his way. “Hey, Easton?”
Her voice calling his name did something to him. Something Easton couldn’t begin to understand and didn’t want to…not yet. But when she said his name, he couldn’t help but look into her eyes. He’d drunk from glacier pools and never seen anything as blue. There were worse things than being chewed on for a while.
“Have you ever heard of the Tourist Trap?”
Worse things like taking them there.
• • •
As tiny diners went, this one smelled better than most.
“Nope. Nope nope nope. Out.”
River blinked, utterly unprepared for the reaction of the Tourist Trap’s cook when she and her crew walked in the door. Handsome enough to attract his own level of attention and large enough not to look diminutive next Easton—who was leaning against the bar to talk to him. The cook’s vigorous head shake took River aback.
“Excuse me?” she asked, looking between him and Easton.
Their guide had left the park before they had, the gear check completed and everyone signed off as safe to climb. The restaurant was packed, and finding parking had been a nightmare. The only reason they weren’t still outside circling the lot was she had noticed Easton’s truck behind the building in the employees-only section and parked next to him.
“It’s on the sign,” the cook said, pointing to the dry erase board behind him. Sure enough, it read ‘No film crews allowed.’ “I have the right to refuse service to anyone I deem a threat to my other customers.”
“Graham, don’t be a bully.”
Graham the mayor? No, it couldn’t be.
A short, slender woman with delicate glasses perched
on her nose was seated on a stool at Easton’s side. She leaned over and said something to Graham, earning a loud and long-suffering sigh from the cook. Everyone was watching, making River’s blood boil.
“I’m not a bully, Zoey Bear. I’m protecting my establishment and my employees from being harassed by a media outlet.”
Zoey aimed a firm look at him. “You’re the only employee. And you’re the only one harassing people.”
“Okay, fine,” Graham said, king of his tiny domain of processed meats. “But don’t blame me if their food is lukewarm and barely edible.”
“I was under the assumption it always is,” River shot back. “Are you usually this rude to your customers?”
An amused look was his only response. “Only the ones I don’t want.”
Before River could reply, Bree grabbed her arm, looking around excitedly. “This is how it’s supposed to be here. Didn’t you read the reviews? It’s one of those places where they deliberately insult the customers.”
“Can we hasten along the hazing of the new people and get to the fries?” Jessie’s voice had taken on a whine. “I’m starving.”
“I want a Growly Bear.” Bree held up her phone. “The review site says we can’t leave without one.”
“It’s a bad idea.” Shaking her head at a picture of a very inebriated individual holding up a bright blue drink, River added, “We have work to do. We can celebrate after the shoot is over.”
Graham winked at River, as if she and he weren’t becoming mortal enemies then and there. “You run a tight ship, Captain. Come on. A Growly Bear makes everyone feel better.”
Bree and Jessie looked so disappointed, River caved and turned to Graham. “Fine, whatever. One Growly Bear each, but that’s it. Plus all the things on the grill for all of us.”
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “It feels like we’re running low. This big ass guy walked in here first and he cleaned us out.”
“Graham.” Easton’s growl was menacing enough, it made the person on his other side jump. “Feed her.”
“Only her?”
Easton aimed a flat stare at Graham, who grinned and didn’t even flinch. The man must have had nerves of steel, because everyone else around them—her crew included—shifted out of Easton’s proximity. Finally, he held up his hands in supplication. “Hey, hey, no need to yell, buddy. I didn’t know you were so sweet on her.”
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