Enjoy the View

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  They even had a script for her, although Easton had no idea who had put it together or when. He would have noticed if one of his clients had been trying to hike with pen and paper in hand.

  “We’re finished with today’s climb,” River told the camera, glancing at the mountainscape around them. The day’s journey had taken them higher above the tree line, and all around was snow and ice, dotted with the occasional dark boulder or the snow-free underside of an outcropping.

  More than once over the last couple of days, Easton had found himself watching her drink in the scenery instead of paying attention to where he was stepping. Not the wisest choice, but his eyes kept drifting back despite his efforts to keep them on the path he led them on. Now that they were at a higher elevation, being distracted was even more dangerous. The marmot had stuck close, taking up residence outside Easton’s tent and insisting on watching him with the same intentness Easton had been watching River with.

  All in all, it was one of the more uncomfortable unrequited love triangles Easton had been involved in.

  “It’s stunningly beautiful up here above the tree line,” River continued. “I’ve been on top of a mountain before, but nothing like this. Nothing like Mount Veil. I can’t wait to get higher and see what it has to offer.”

  She paused as if to gather her thoughts.

  “Our guide calls it the Old Man. When you’re down in Moose Springs, the mountain kind of looks like a hunched-over man with his head bowed. Almost like he’s bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. But up here, the Old Man—”

  River drifted off, and unlike the last pause, this one wasn’t scripted.

  “You can hear him creaking and groaning beneath you. Easton, is that the glacier beneath us we’re hearing?”

  Not used to being addressed when she was filming her interviews, Easton nodded. Immediately, the second camera was turned his way.

  “Say it out loud,” Jessie stage-whispered.

  Glaring at him didn’t do a thing, so Easton gave in. “It’s the movement of the glacier. We’re climbing a river of ice, one that moves slowly.”

  “A river of ice that moves slowly.” River seemed amused. “That sounds familiar. This River is iced up and moving slowly, and we’re only a little higher than eleven thousand feet. I feel like the air in my lungs isn’t a full breath.”

  “High altitude sickness is real, River,” Easton told her, folding his arms across his chest. “If you start feeling bad, you tell me.”

  River winked at him then turned back to the camera. “Our guide, Easton. He looks like the scariest guy in these mountains, but he’s a big marshmallow.”

  “Oh, he’s the scariest thing in these mountains by far.” Jessie’s quip was met by laughter throughout the crew. From across the campsite, Ben had stopped working to watch their filming. He shot Easton a smirk.

  “You all have never gone through the Veil,” Ben told them. “You’ll think East is all peaches and cream when that happens.”

  They turned the cameras off, although Jessie still had the handheld tucked under his arm instead of putting it away.

  “So, what do you think?” River rose to her feet and joined Easton where he was standing.

  “I think we need to take it easy, maybe stay here an extra day. You’re not the only one having trouble catching your breath. Jessie was looking winded too.”

  When she didn’t argue with him, Easton gave her a searching once-over.

  “I’m pretty sure my eyes are up here.” Despite the humor in her tone, Easton could hear an underlying grumpiness.

  “Your eyes are gorgeous,” Easton told her, willing to flirt a little to see the resulting smile on her face. When she swayed on her feet, he put a hand on her hip. “The rest of you is starting to drag. Why don’t you take a nap while the others finish setting up camp? I’ll have Ben wake you when dinner is ready.”

  “Is it that obvious I’m beat?”

  “Only because I pay attention.” When she waggled her eyebrows at him, Easton added, “You pay me to pay attention.”

  “And here I thought I paid you to be a large human-shaped resting spot.” She leaned into his shoulder, giving Easton an excuse to wrap his arm around her waist. River turned to gaze out at the mountain range rising like jagged teeth from the earth thousands of feet below. “I can’t get over how gorgeous it is up here. If this view doesn’t convince people to come to Moose Springs, nothing will.”

  Easton was fine with no one else ever coming to Moose Springs, but he was invested enough in his clients to want River’s documentary to turn out well. Sometimes Easton felt torn in what they were doing here. He’d always fallen hard on the side of “no tourists,” but Moose Springs was changing, slowly but surely. Lana and Graham had worked hard to try to balance the fiscal needs of the town versus the needs of the people to be left in peace.

  Lana single-handedly getting the bulk of the town’s commercial property out of corporate hands and into the hands of the residents had done a lot to smooth ruffled feathers. But even though Lana had become much more accepted in Moose Springs, no one loved her condo project next to the resort. If Graham managed to keep them from being completed, tying Lana up in red tape for the next century, no one would protest. Except for maybe Rick.

  And yes, he didn’t want strangers overrunning his town. But tourism had brought Zoey and Lana into his friends’ lives. Glancing over, Easton watched River drink in the mountain that was so important to him, relishing the weight of her form pressed against his side.

  See? Tourism wasn’t that bad.

  The marmot chirped, an unhappy sound, then wiggled between their legs so it could lean against Easton too.

  He could have stood there with her for as long as she wanted, enjoying her while she enjoyed the view. The marmot…he could have gone without it snuggling in closer. But Easton knew the safe hours for traveling were ticking down while he lingered. Finally, he stepped away. “I’m going to scout ahead. Let Ben know if you need anything.” She didn’t answer, not until he murmured her name. “River?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  Maybe it was just him, but her color was a touch off, too pale for the blustering wind chilling their skin. Her eyes were still on the world around them, and for a moment, he thought she hadn’t even heard him. Finally, she turned back to Easton, eyes bright.

  “I’m amazing.”

  • • •

  When Easton suggested she take a nap, River was grateful. She’d tried her best all day to ignore her growing headache. The pressure in her head had been steadily building, like a headband squeezing too tightly around her temples. Every hour of climbing had felt like four, and setting up camp was even worse.

  Sadly, as good as that nap sounded, she couldn’t take him up on it.

  They all shared the tasks around camp, and asking someone to pick up the slack so she could rest wasn’t okay. Instead, she helped finish setting up camp while Easton left them to check the route ahead, the marmot at his heels.

  River was daydreaming about that nap Easton had recommended when the real headache hit, fast and with no further warning. The steady pressure abruptly turned into a sledgehammer, like someone striking her between the eyes. Midstep between her tent and the dining tent, River gasped and staggered.

  Someone shouted in alarm as her knee hit the snow beneath her.

  “I’m fine, I’m good,” she forced between her teeth, instinctively shoving back to her feet to cover the misstep. Instantly, the world spun as she sank back down again.

  A hand caught her arm as Ben’s face swam in and out of focus in front of her.

  “Whoa, better stay still until Easton gets here to look at you.” Ben pulled out his radio. “Hey, man, we’ve got a problem. River’s going AMS on us.”

  “I don’t have altitude sickness,” she insis
ted, but the pain in her head made her words come out a whimper. “It’s only a migraine. I’m fine.”

  “Any signs of HACE?” Easton’s voice was a hard snap through the crackling of the radio.

  Ben frowned at her before replying. “She says it’s a headache, but she went down quick.”

  “Get her to my tent,” he ordered. “Get fluids in her. I’m on my way.”

  Using Ben as a support, River rose to her feet and staggered in the direction Ben led her. Voices spoke, asking if she was okay, but they blended together in one mass of noise, piercing through her brain. At least Easton’s tent was larger than the one she was using and was easier to accommodate both a reclining person and Ben’s helping hands. When Ben told her to lie down on Easton’s sleeping bag, River didn’t fight him. Never had her head hurt so much. The pounding of her blood in her ears grew frighteningly loud, so much so, she could barely hear the opening of the tent’s zipper when Easton arrived. She didn’t know how far away he’d been, but he must have rushed to get back so quick.

  “Whisky girl. You slipped fast on me. Tell me what’s wrong.” His rumble was quiet and as gentle as his hands on her wrist, taking her pulse.

  “I have a headache.” River’s teeth gritted together, unable to open her eyes to look at him. “It’s been building all day, but I didn’t say anything. I usually have a high pain tolerance.”

  “I believe you,” Easton said. “Ben, her heart rate is elevated, probably because of the pain. River, do you have any allergies? Any problems with painkillers?”

  “I’m in show business. We pop painkillers like popcorn.”

  “You’re from the country, River. Don’t pretend you’re not as tough as nails. I already know better.”

  She could hear the kindness in his voice, even though River wasn’t about to open her eyes to look for herself.

  “Ben, I need something to cover her face. The sun’s too bright right now. It’s coming right through the tent.”

  “Here,” Ben’s voice murmured. “Med kit is right by your foot.”

  “Thanks. River, I’m going to wrap something around your head. It’s not going to feel good, but you’ll be glad of it later.”

  “I’m fine. Do whatever.” And then toss her off the mountain, or at least everything from the shoulders up.

  Even though they were both talking very quietly, Ben sounded like he was yelling against her eardrum. “What are you thinking, boss? Want me to call Ash to come get her?”

  “I’m not going down,” River told them as someone gently tied a folded-up bandanna over her eyes. “It’s only a headache.”

  “Maybe, but maybe not.” Easton helped draw an extra blanket around her. “Up here, a headache can mean a lot of things.”

  “Easton, don’t you dare kill this project for something stupid.”

  Despite her arguing with him, Easton’s voice remained quiet and soothing. “I’m not going to ruin your film unless I have to. But trust me, River, the moment I have to, I’m not thinking twice. Is everything dark?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  She clamped down on the rest of her sentence, swallowing her complaint and internalizing the pain. Having something tied around her head only caused the viselike agony to ratchet off the charts. Freedom from the bright sunlight streaming through the tent was nowhere close to being worth it.

  River reached to pull the blindfold from her head, but Easton caught her fingers, squeezing in reassurance.

  “I’m going to put a water bottle to your lips. Try to keep it down. The last thing you want is to be dehydrated. Ben, give me that small pill bottle.”

  The rattling of the pills rattled her brains, even though all Ben did was pick them up. “Are you sure? This is some strong stuff. She’ll be a zombie.”

  “I’m sure I’m not letting her get shocky from pain. River, I’ve got two pills in my hands. I need you to swallow them for me and not throw them up. Can you do that?”

  “Will they help?” she joked in a weak, strained voice. “If not, no promises.”

  “They’ll knock you out in five minutes.”

  “Give me the pills.”

  Despite her assurance she could keep them down, River almost didn’t succeed. She wasn’t prone to headaches, but this one was crushing her from the inside out. She felt like she was going to die. She wanted to die, or at least stuff her fingers inside her brain and rip out anything and everything making her head want to explode—oh. Oh.

  Whatever he’d given her, it worked.

  If she didn’t have a blindfold over her eyes, tied around a rapidly shrinking head, the world around River might have gone blessedly blurry. Instead, it went darker.

  “How are you feeling?” Easton asked her softly. “River, can you hear me?”

  She would have answered, but her mouth was done moving, her lips more than happy to stay exactly where they were. The conversation around her was becoming detached, muddled, like they were walking backward in a tunnel. River didn’t even mind when Easton’s fingertips brushed her forehead, checking for fever.

  “She’s out,” Ben decided.

  Yes. Yes, she was.

  • • •

  The wind whistled steadily in River’s ears. Her first thought was it reminded her of the whistle of the supply trains moving through the pasture back home. Her second thought was the sound didn’t weigh like a freight train on her brain.

  Whatever Easton had given her, it worked like a charm.

  She still felt fuzzy, but when River reached up to touch her temple, she was met with only fabric, not throbbing. Unwinding the bandanna from her head, she blinked in the muted light of early morning. She’d slept the whole night through, and she’d stolen Easton’s tent to do it in.

  Peering around at the tent felt like sneaking a peek into someone’s bedroom. “So this is what it’s like to be our fearless leader,” River murmured to herself.

  The urge to snoop was hard to resist, but a man who helped keep her brain from tripling in size was a man whose things should remain safe from prying eyes. Still, it was fun to imagine what Easton-sized secrets his backpack held.

  Other than his love of mountaineering and his general distaste for having cameras on him, River didn’t know all that much about Easton Lockett. Except he was gorgeous, and when she’d been in pain, the weight of his hands on her had felt as good as anything could have at the time. Solid. Reassuring.

  Rolling over onto her belly, River wriggled toward the tent entrance, intending on taking a peek outside to see what everyone was doing. The tent unzipped as River reached for the pull, leaving her nose-to-stomach with the man himself.

  Whatever he’d been doing, Easton had exerted himself enough that his face was flushed, and he was sweating.

  Easton gazed down at her, as if finding a woman’s nose in his stomach was an everyday occurrence to him.

  “Hey,” she said, like this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

  The corner of his mouth ticked up on one side as he took her in. “Hey. You look good.” Raising an eyebrow at his comment, River had the absolute pleasure of watching Easton blush. “I mean, your color’s better. You’re not so pale.”

  Rolling back to her knees, River made room for him to climb inside his tent. “I feel a lot better,” she admitted as he sat next to her and pulled off his boots. He knocked the snow off outside the entrance, then set them in the corner, tidily organized, like the rest of his things.

  Speaking of looking good, his hair was down, falling to his shoulders. River had never particularly cared one way or another about a man’s hair, but his was so long. And shiny. She wanted to run her hands through it.

  “I need to grab a fresh shirt,” Easton informed her, his voice pitched quiet.

  “I can leave,” River offered.

  With a shake of his head, Easton turned her down. �
�It’s blustering right now. Everyone’s tucked in. Might as well stay until it dies down.”

  Well. If she had to…

  “Where did you sleep last night?” River asked, settling cross-legged near the tent’s side.

  “I bunked up with Ben.” Still pitching his voice softer, as if her headache were lingering. His consideration bumped River’s already high opinion of this man up a few notches. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me in your tent, and you weren’t available to ask.”

  And there it went, even higher. He was dangerously close to being one of the nicest men she’d ever met.

  “You didn’t stay with Jessie?” River teased.

  Easton shook his head. “Something is seriously wrong with him. That guy has the worst apnea I’ve ever been forced to listen to. He’s going to bring an avalanche down on us if we’re not careful.”

  “Bree’s planning on dragging him to the doctor when we get back to LA.”

  “Good. Because that’s torture.” He paused, then said, “I woke up with the marmot staring at me. I don’t know how it got into Ben’s tent, but I think it watched me sleep.”

  River couldn’t help her giggle. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he pulled his shirt off and set it to the side. She hadn’t intended on peeking. There was so much sheer muscle in the tent with her, it was hard to find a place to look where she couldn’t see Easton’s broad, triangular back.

  A low chuckle rumbled through the tent. “Why am I keeping my back turned if you’re going to stare at me?”

  “Why am I trying to stare if you’re going to keep your back turned?” she replied.

  Seeing that same flush reddening the nape of his neck was more than worth it. River grinned, closing her eyes to preserve his dignity. “In my defense, I was trying. I’m sorry. I’ll keep them squeezed shut.”