Enjoy the View

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  “Were you?” Easton didn’t have to sound so smug.

  “It’s a man’s chest,” River reminded him. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, in your own house.”

  “I didn’t say you needed to close your eyes.”

  That sexy rumble was even sexier when it deepened like that. And maybe they were on one of the tallest mountains in North America, but someone had cranked the heat up in this tent a few degrees hotter than a sultry Southern California night.

  “I don’t know if I’m willing to risk your new love interest’s wrath.” Opening one eye, River watched the dry replacement shirt settling down over deliciously hard abdominal muscles. With a lusty sigh, River decided playing coy wasn’t her style. “You drive me nuts, you know that?”

  “At least it’s going both ways, sweetheart.” He turned, those warm brown eyes sliding over her features. “You really do look better,” Easton murmured, repeating his earlier words. “I’m glad. I didn’t want to have to take you back down. I know how important this climb is to you.”

  “It’s the film, not the climb. That’s just the fun part.”

  “The Old Man can sense a bullshitter from a kilometer away. If you’re not up here for him, he’s going to toss you right back off.”

  “I hate to disappoint his majesty, but I was born with glue on the seat of my pants.” River shifted closer, her knees mere inches from his. “Lanes don’t get bucked off.”

  “Your redneck roots are showing.”

  “And?” She raised her eyes to him in challenge.

  Easton lowered his face, mouth near her ear. “And I like it.”

  • • •

  What was he doing?

  It would be a lie to say that Easton had never flirted with a client before, but that was always after a climb was through and never more than the friendly camaraderie that accompanied the heady accomplishment of summiting.

  River was something else.

  The morning had started weird. Still half-asleep, Easton had opened his eyes, half hoping prettier ones would meet his. On the side of the sleeping bag where River had been in his dreams, the marmot sat curled up in a ball, watching him with much darker eyes.

  Eyes that stared…unblinkingly.

  The marmot was going to be a problem. Spending the night with it had crossed some sort of significant barrier, and they now had a new relationship status. Apparently, they were committed. The whole situation was more than a little embarrassing and not only for the fact that it was all being caught on film.

  He had a suspicion the marmot knew he’d started dreaming about River every night.

  Easton had been worried about her, but when he’d unzipped the tent, River had momentarily stolen his breath away. Her hair was loose across her shoulders, and she was blinking up at him as if she’d gotten caught. Easton couldn’t help but stare. And when she’d flashed that perfectly innocent, heart-stopping grin at him, Easton knew that, one: he’d definitely caught her up to something. And two: if anyone was in danger of being caught here, it was him.

  Falling for River wasn’t a bad idea. It was epically bad. He wasn’t interested in being some actress’s part-time fling on location, and whispering in her ear was exactly what Easton shouldn’t be doing. Getting drawn in like this, so close all he had to do was inhale and she would be in his arms, was even worse. Easton was starting to lose his ability to say no to the woman in front of him. All she had to do was turn those pale-blue eyes his way and—

  Her eyes. That was what had happened.

  “Your eyes.” He could have kicked himself for not being more on top of this.

  “What about them?”

  “It’s your blue eyes,” Easton explained. “We’re so close to polar north up here, and the elevation has us closer to the sun. The brightness of the light is more than your eyes can handle.”

  She frowned. “It wasn’t a problem on any of my other climbs.”

  “Your other climbs weren’t—”

  “Yeah, yeah, weren’t the Old Man,” she finished for him with a sigh, leaning back on her hands. “Do you realize I was dangerously close to kissing you? And it would have been great, Easton. Fabulous. Now a not-kiss is all you get.”

  Easton reached for his pack and pulled out a pair of snow goggles with darker tinting than the ones she had brought with her. “I think you’ll do better wearing these. Otherwise, the headaches are going to keep coming. A few more, and you won’t care about the documentary or anything else. You’ll be fighting to get back down as hard as you fought to get up here.”

  “Don’t underestimate my stubbornness.”

  “Trust me, I wouldn’t dare.”

  Adjusting the goggles to fit her properly, Easton passed them over. And okay. Would he rather have her in one of his shirts? Probably. But he’d take having her in his best—and ridiculously expensive—pair of goggles. As long as she stayed healthy and not in pain.

  River giggled as she peered around the tent. “These are dark. I could almost get an actual night’s sleep wearing these.”

  “What’s the fun in that?” He watched as she pushed the goggles on the top of her head, like a pair of sunglasses.

  “Hey, Easton?”

  “Yeah?”

  Resting her hand on his arm, River leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. For all of this.”

  For a moment, it was all Easton could do not to wrap his hands around her waist. Instead, he closed his eyes, the thin air doing nothing to cover the lingering scent of her skin. Her hand stayed on his arm, her hair copper silk as he threaded his fingers through it. And maybe he didn’t draw her in close. He didn’t have to. River was already leaning into him, soft and warm and more tempting than anything he’d ever known.

  “We should probably keep this professional,” Easton murmured. Not kissing her behind her earlobe, down her neck, and across her shoulder was brutally difficult. Especially when her hands were sliding over his chest, fingers digging into his shoulders.

  “Define professional,” she challenged him.

  “Not this.” Slipping his arm around her waist, Easton picked her up, pulling her across his lap. When a tiny noise of appreciation escaped her throat, his willpower plummeted.

  “Probably not this either.” Her hands traced a path along his stomach, making each muscle contract involuntarily at her touch.

  A smack of a hand against the outside of the tent was the only warning they had that Ben’s face was about to poke inside the flap.

  “Umm, guys, I hate to interrupt…”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Easton growled under his breath, letting River slide off his lap.

  “Tell me about it,” River muttered. “Your timing sucks, Ben.”

  Ben had the decency to clear his throat, sounding far more apologetic than he looked. “I’ve got Ash on the line. She’s watching the weather, and we might need to stay put instead of heading up. Talk to her. She’ll tell you what’s going on.”

  The last thing Easton wanted to do right then was leave this tent and whatever was on the verge of happening between them, but only a fool didn’t listen when his people called with weather warnings. Offering River an apologetic look, Easton pulled his boots back on and went to the dining tent. Settling down next to a makeshift supply table they’d formed out of snow, Easton picked up the sat phone. “Hey.”

  He’d never know what it was that gave him away, but his sister always knew when she’d interrupted him at the worst of times. With that one word, Ash started laughing.

  “You can’t be serious. Oh man, Graham is going to love this. We’ve had a bet going since you left. The actress, right?”

  He glanced at the corner of the tent where River had joined her people. At his look in her direction, River’s eyebrow raised questioningly. Turning back to the radio, he cleared his throat.

 
“What’s got you worried, Ash?”

  “There’s a cold front coming through from the northwest. They’re saying it dumped an extra two feet of powder at Camp Three on Denali. Came on fast, and everyone there is having a mess of a time digging out. You’re not directly in the path, but you’ll get some of it. Might want to sit until it passes. Winds are strong. Forty mile an hour gusts.”

  “Thanks, Ash. We’ll hold tight.”

  “Good. Oh, and, East.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Try not to let the actress eat you alive.”

  Since she’d kept them from possibly freezing to death in a snowstorm, Easton almost wasn’t offended by that.

  Almost.

  “What’s going on?” Bree asked when he hung up with his sister.

  “There’s a storm on its way,” Easton informed his clients, moving to stand in front of them. “Ben will make sure everyone has a radio. Keep it on channel four. There are high winds in this storm, so there’s always a slim possibility that the tents will give.”

  Jessie’s eyes went wide, his voice squeaking. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “Oh,” Ben spoke up, cheerful as ever. “I’ve seen them rip apart like a blood bag in a shark tank. You’re screwed when that happens.”

  “A what?” Bree stared at him. “What’s a blood bag?”

  “How do you not know what a blood bag is?” Ben asked her.

  “How do you know what a blood bag is?”

  Easton cleared his throat. Loudly. “Yes. Sometimes a well-made tent won’t be a match for these kinds of winds. The snow walls we built are solid, but in the time we have before the weather comes through, let’s build them up as much as we can. River, don’t push yourself.”

  She opened her mouth, eyes flashing in indignation.

  “I know you can pull your own weight. Just don’t try to pull anyone else’s.” Holding up the radio, Easton held each of his team’s gazes with a stern look of his own. “Make sure you know how to use this, where the buttons are, everything. We don’t know what’s coming our way, and you need to be able to make a call in zero visibility. If your tent goes, do not try to get to one of the other tents. Stay put, and not a foot off center. Radio me, and I will come get you.”

  “I can’t decide if that’s sexy or scary,” Bree murmured to River, who shared a quick smile with the other woman. They weren’t taking this seriously enough.

  “We’re not that high up yet, which might be giving you three a false sense of security. Mount Veil is dangerous, and storms like this are only part of the reason why. You can die as quickly at eleven thousand feet as you can at fifteen or twenty like Denali.”

  “Aye-aye, captain. We’ll fall in line.” Jessie had gone back to fiddling with his camera, and Easton wondered if Jessie was doing so because he wasn’t worried…or if he was hiding the fact that he was.

  Bree started munching on a protein bar, paying attention but completely relaxed. River seemed to be listening, but a tiny smirk played on her face.

  “What?”

  “It’s cute when you’re being a worrywart,” she told him.

  Did anything frighten this woman? Easton respected her nerves of steel, but damn, she made him nervous sometimes.

  “You tried, boss,” Ben said with a shrug, digging for the rest of the radios.

  “Remember,” Easton said one last time. “I can find you blind if you stay where you’re supposed to be. If not, I can’t help you.”

  Holding River’s eyes, he added quietly, “No matter how much I might want to.”

  • • •

  Someone had constructed a very nice snow wall around her tent while River had been passed out in Easton’s. Still, it never hurt to build it up higher, especially with the ominous clouds gathering in the northwest.

  Easton said the storm was supposed to only give them a glancing blow, not a full fist to the face. She wasn’t too worried about the storm, but River couldn’t shake the feeling of being a sitting duck up there, without any chance to avoid what was headed their way.

  As the sky darkened, Easton radioed everyone into their tents, told them to buckle down, and they would wait it out. Try to sleep if they could.

  Sleep wasn’t anywhere close to River’s mind when the storm hit.

  The beating of the wind against the fabric of their tents started within minutes, building up to a howl in her ears. She’d tried to put on a brave face for her team, but there was something intrinsically terrifying about knowing the only thing between herself and the raw power of nature was a thin piece of fabric.

  If something tore her tent, she’d be toast.

  Very cold toast.

  Turning down her portable light as low as it would go and still allow her to see, River lay on her back, watching the tent buffeting above her. A wandering mind never wandered in comforting directions, and she’d imagined all sorts of ways they could be buried beneath the results of this storm before River finally shook her head.

  “Okay, I need a distraction.” Pulling out her radio, she hit the button on the side. “Easton, can you hear me?” Probably not, because she could barely hear herself. “Everything’s fine,” River added quickly. “I just needed someone to talk to, since it sounds like a wind demon is trying to devour our souls outside.”

  Static, then Easton’s deep rumble. “Over.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You have to say over,” he explained. “And this isn’t half as bad as I thought it would be. We’re fine. Try to get some sleep. Over.”

  Okay. They were fine. Except…well…it still sounded like they were not fine outside.

  After a moment, River picked up the radio again. “Do you want to play a radio game?” she asked.

  Silence, then Easton’s reply. “Do I have to?”

  “You don’t have to, but it would be awfully embarrassing to play radio charades by myself.”

  A low chuckle was barely audible above the screaming of the wind. “Fine,” Easton gave in. “I spy with my little eyes something—”

  “Don’t say white,” River groaned into the radio. “If you say white, I’m hanging up on you.”

  “And letting me get some sleep?”

  “Please, no one could sleep through this. What do you spy?”

  He must have been going to say white, because it took him a moment to switch. “I spy something green.”

  She had absolutely no idea what was green in his tent. So she guessed. And she guessed some more. And when the normal suggestions ran out, River cast her net wide.

  “A bucket,” she guessed.

  “Nope.”

  “A marmot?”

  There was a long pause before Easton finally murmured into the radio, “It was getting cold.”

  “You’re such a softie.” River giggled. “You know it’s falling in love with you, right?”

  Easton yawned. “Maybe it needed to meet someone who treated it better than the other marmots. It’s hard to find the right person these days, especially when internet dating isn’t an option in the bush.”

  “Are online marmot dating sites a thing?”

  “I assume so. Are you done guessing?”

  River was about to answer when a third voice interrupted them.

  “In about thirty seconds, you’re going to have me in your tents, smothering you both,” Jessie said over the radio. “River, it’s a book.”

  “I said book,” River argued.

  Easton sounded far too smug. “You didn’t say which book.”

  “Gone with the Wind?”

  “Nope,” he told her. “Watership Down.”

  “Aww. The one with the bunnies?”

  Even over the wind, they could hear Jessie yelling in his tent for them to shut up. Grinning, River stayed quiet, at least for a few minutes longer, then she
clicked on the radio one last time, pressing it against her cheek.

  “Hey, Easton?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you’re our guide.”

  Silence, then her favorite voice in the world rumbled sweetly in her ear. “Me too, River. Me too.”

  Chapter 11

  Since she was alone in her tent, no one needed to know River slept with the radio tucked under her arm, tight to her rib cage like a teddy bear.

  Somehow Easton’s deep voice—so calm and unafraid despite the winds shrieking around them—had allowed River to drift off to sleep. Even with the storm, she slept great. River only started to stir when a loud squawk from the radio startled her upright.

  “What? Who—?” Twisting around, her brain tried and failed to keep up.

  “Rise and shine.” The radio crackled against her breast. “We’ve got a mountain to climb. Are you coming, or do I need to dig you out?”

  River didn’t understand what Easton meant until she rolled over and scooted sideways a few inches, reaching for the zipper on her tent. When she unzipped it, she was met with a wall of white.

  “I’m good. Don’t—”

  A mouthful of soft fresh powder kicked into her face midsentence. Easton’s warm brown eyes appeared in her view as she blinked snow out of her lashes.

  “Good morning.” He chuckled at the expression on her face.

  “Is it?” River mumbled.

  Easton wasn’t wearing a jacket, meaning the reflection off the snow must have been heating the site enough she wouldn’t need one either. When River drew in a deep breath, her lungs resisted the cold, thinner air. A blast of wind blew the snow past Easton’s crouching form and into her tent. How in the world did this man not need a coat?

  “Nope. Nope, nope.” Wiggling backward, River pulled her jacket around her. “In or out, big guy. It’s too early to build a snow cone down my shirt.”

  “Sorry, time to emerge from your hidey-hole. We’re getting an early start today. The snow cones will have to wait for later.”

  He flicked some snow at her, earning a wrinkled nose and a tongue sticking out.

  “You’re not half as attractive as you think you are, Easton Lockett,” she called after him as the tent flap fell back down. River reached for the zipper pull with her sock-covered toes. “Couldn’t even zip…back up…stupid man. Stupid tent. Stupid man-tent.” Dropping back to the ground in a dramatic flop, River groaned. “Okay, self, time to get up. You have no choice in the matter. Get up, get moving, and try not to ice ax any men this morning.”