“I didn’t want to startle you.” Easton pushed off the boulder and crossed the rocky, snowy ground between them.

“You walk quiet, mountain man.”

Under the lower light, it was harder to make out his expression, but the warmth in his voice was familiar, matching the sparkle in his eyes.

“Nah, you’re so used to stomping around, you don’t know the difference.”

“Uh-oh, people,” River told her camera. “Easton’s teasing me. I might actually like it, but don’t tell him.”

“Do you have to film everything?”

“It is part of the process. We tried Claymation, but your beard kept falling off the miniature clay Easton.” She kept the camera on him as she patted the rock surface beside her. “Want to join me? I’ve got a boulder for two over here.”

He tapped a playful finger twice to the side of the camera, so River regretfully turned back to the sky above her.

“Back home, when the sky turned bright colors like this, it was usually after bad weather. Everything would turn this bruised yellowish-green color, then get really dark. We’d all take cover because it meant a tornado was coming through. A few got really close. Then afterward, the sky would look like this.”

Maybe the memories had taken her too deeply, because large, callused fingers slipped through her slimmer, softer ones. Once, she’d had calluses like those too, from long days and longer nights working horses and cattle with her family.

“How is it that I had to travel thousands of miles from home to find a place that reminds me so much of being back there?”

“Maybe you miss it,” Easton said. “When I miss home, seems like everything reminds me of where I wish I was.”

“Do you travel much?”

“Some. I’d like to travel more. Nepal, India, Tibet.”

“All places with the highest mountains in the world.” River turned to look at him and realized their faces were only inches apart. Suddenly, the sky above wasn’t nearly as interesting. “You should go.”

The way his expression changed, she knew he misunderstood her. Tightening her hold on his hand, River shook her head. “I meant to Nepal and everywhere else. To the tallest mountains. Don’t let anything stop you. There’s a big world out there. We shouldn’t have to stay locked in a box and only see part of it. Besides, after watching you climb that waterfall today, I couldn’t imagine anyone better for it.”

For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. The look in his eyes when he gazed at her certainly said he was considering it. Tugging on his hand to indicate she was more than okay with any decision he might be struggling with, River wiggled closer. He shifted up to brace his weight on one elbow, their threaded fingers between their chests.

“Hey, Easton! Adventuring biscuits have been consumed, man. Time to get UniMagP’ed up.”

“And that’s how you ruin a perfectly good moment.” River sighed, dropping her head back on the rock. “Thank you, Jessie.”

Easton sat up. “Don’t worry. Whatever this is, we have time to figure it out.” Leaning in, Easton added quietly, “It’s a long trip to the top.”

As he rose and disappeared toward the campfire, River turned back to the sky above her. She’d always lived her life for the endgame. The job, the career, the summit. But as she considered his words, River couldn’t help the curving of her lips.

Maybe this time, the best part would be getting there.

Chapter 10

   River was born to be in front of a camera.

He’d never seen her in one of her roles, but Easton had a good idea of how much of a professional River was. When it was time for her shots at the end of the day’s climb, no matter how tired she was, she always helped her crew set up the equipment, find the right spot to film, and would only disappear in her tent for the briefest time to fix her hair for the scene. Then she would emerge with her acting face on, a calm and relaxed set to her features that could shift into whatever was required of her.

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.”