“How dangerous? I’ll accidentally step in the pit you’ve dug to keep innocent, naïve film crews in type of dangerous?”

“Sue me and take my business and all my family’s property type of dangerous.”

“You’re not supporting the narrative I built up in my head about this, Easton. You’re being a party pooper.”

Wiping the cobwebs off his other hand, he found the light switch. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

The small wooden barn was flooded with light, albeit the muted light of bulbs covered in dust. There were very legitimate reasons why this barn had terrified him as a child.

River turned a circle, staring up at the ceiling and walls, where every farming utensil known to modern man was either hung or suspended. A table in the corner, stained with years of cleaning game, was particularly horrific to behold. Chains hung from beams for reasons still unknown to his adult mind.

And the scythe collection. Who kept a scythe collection?

“This. Is. Insane.” River’s eyes looked about to pop out of her head, they were so wide. “No, really, Easton. Your great-uncle was a nut job. Is that a headless mannequin?”

“There are more in the next room. Want to see?”

Of course she wanted to see. There wasn’t one or two. The barn was full of so many headless mannequins.

“What did he do with the heads?” River asked. “Do you think he kept them?”

“I always assumed they came without the heads.”

“No way. Not with that many scythes.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Easton felt obligated to defend his kin. “He was a nice man. Always helped out around the community.”

“As a cover for his evening exploits?” A gasp of utter delight came from her mouth. “This is so macabre. Let me film this. Please, pretty please, I have to film this.”

“No way. Okay, you’ve had your peek.” He started to gently herd her back into the main part of the barn and toward the door, but River ducked beneath his arm, sneaking past him.

“No, Easton, it’s so awful, no one would ever believe me if I don’t have proof.” Grabbing a chain hanging from the rafters, she wiggled it. “You have to let me film this. You could sell tickets to this place. Is that blood?”

“It’s probably rust.”

“But you don’t know.”

Extracting her from the barn was going to require more effort. “I have ice cream in the house.” Sweets always lured people, didn’t they?

“I don’t eat sugar late at night.”

Except for her. Easton grabbed the chain above her hand, giving it a test tug, since she seemed determined to hang off it.

“Who doesn’t eat sugar at night?” he asked.

“People who are supposed to be a size zero for the camera but are stuck at normal human being sizes.”

Smiling down at the stunning redhead, Easton decided he liked her just as she was. “It’s a tough life being famous.”

“It had its perks.”

“Had?” Standing so near hadn’t been the plan, especially since he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Some of the perks are still currently being appreciated.” When River’s gaze lingered at his bicep, Easton wondered if maybe this steadily growing attraction wasn’t all one-sided.

He really hoped it wasn’t.

“I prefer a life of constant motion,” River added. “Work has become stagnant of late, so I’m carving my own path, making the most of the opportunities out there.”

“I keep noticing.” Watching her lick her lower lip was killing him. His voice lowered. “You’re hard to miss.”

“Be careful, Easton,” River warned him. “Keep going both shoulders on me, and I might like it.”

Easton wasn’t sure who had closed the distance between them, him or her. Either way, neither was backing down. The only thing stranger than standing in this barn was standing in it smelling the shampoo from her still-wet hair, wondering what it might be like to wrap his arm around her, to draw her in close and see if this was more than some good-natured teasing.

Suddenly, she giggled. “You are not flirting with me surrounded by what is definitely not rust.”

“You started it.”

Winking, River said, “I’ll kiss you right now if you admit your great-uncle chopped the mannequin heads off with the scythes.”

Again, Easton’s bone-deep loyalty reared its ugly head, when other options seemed much more enticing. “I think the mannequin heads were used as part of a health class thing for the local high school. Some body part identification project.”

“That is so, so disappointing.”

Sighing, River leaned too heavily on her definitely-not-rust chain. Years of neglect and a loose bolt resulted in the entire thing giving way. She shrieked as the chain fell over her shoulders and feet with an excessive amount of clanging and clattering, dust and cobwebs and a few spiders along with it.

“It’s in my mouth. The blood dust is in my mouth,” River wailed as she spat and flailed at her face, not that her actions were doing much to save herself. “I’m eating someone. I’ve been in the mountains of Alaska for less than a week, and I’m already eating someone.”

Picking a few spiderwebs out of her hair for her, Easton watched as she dusted herself off. “I told you it’s not safe in here. But no. You had to come see.”

“The allure was too great.” Her sigh was one of deep contentment, even as he kicked the chain aside and started herding her back toward the door.

“But…”

“Nope.”

River walked backward on her toes, still trying to peer over his shoulder. “The jars. I didn’t even see what’s in all the glass jars.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” Easton and Graham had learned that particular lesson a long time ago. When the door was safely shut behind them, River fell back against the wood siding of the barn, dissolving into giggles.

“I ate person dust.”

“It really is rust.” Probably. He hoped.

Clearly, she wasn’t buying into his far less interesting narrative. “I’ll get a DNA test when we come back. Easton, that was the best thing I’ve ever seen. You’re cruel for not letting me film it, but it was awesome.”

Bracing a hand against the barn siding above her head, Easton smiled down at her. “Nothing scares you, does it?”