“Hey, Easton,” Rick said in his quiet voice. “You know anything about this film crew that’s running around up here?”
“Not as much as he’s about to.” Ash was almost singsonging.
She looked so happy, Easton was immediately suspicious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ash smirked at him, pulling a file folder out of her bag. “Dad wanted me to give you this. A job came through, passed on to us by referral. They didn’t want to step on your turf. Here’s the paperwork. Three climbers want you to take them up Mount Veil. They don’t have a lot of experience, but Dad accepted the job. You know how he is when people want to see his baby.”
Mount Veil. At just over fifteen thousand feet, it wasn’t the tallest or the most popular climb in Alaska. But the “fourteener”—any mountain over fourteen thousand feet—was worthy of any peak bagger’s list, especially those with the guts to go into the Veil. No camera crew had ever gone up Mount Veil. It would be worth seeing…and worth filming.
A chill of dread ran down his spine, the kind that only happened when a redhead was involved. He knew who he’d see before even opening the folder. Sure enough, a familiar face peered up at him, in the most professional headshot any of his clients had ever sent before a climb.
Son of a…sandwich eater.
Of course, it was River Lane.
Chapter 3
If Jessie didn’t stop snoring, River was going to throttle him with his seat belt.
She’d do it nice and slow too.
River wasn’t above sleeping in a car. She’d spent six months living in hers after the money she’d taken to LA had run out. Back then, she’d been too ashamed to tell her family how broke she’d become. There was something circuitous about ending up back in a car tonight, at the start of a new career that so far was not going to plan.
Parked in an employee overflow parking lot on the far end of the Moose Springs Resort’s property, River figured they’d have to move the next night. Someone would eventually notice they were parked out there instead of in the main lot with the rest of the guests, even if the closely encroaching forest made them harder to see from the road. The benefit was the sheer amount of wildlife moving around the parking lot, as if it weren’t a big deal for deer to nibble grasses a few feet away from their vehicle or a raccoon to spend all night trying to get into the bear-proof trash bin across the lot.
Their B-roll was getting better by the minute.
As uncomfortable as the car was, at least it was a roof over their heads. They’d moved the bulk of the equipment to the floorboards and strapped the suitcases to the top of the vehicle, giving Bree and Jessie each a seat to stretch out on to sleep. Since River had gotten them into this mess, she’d offered to sleep in the back, wedged between a tripod and the rear door.
River had grown up sleeping on a bedroll beneath the stars, three days’ ride from home and surrounded by cowboys. She was no stranger to annoying nocturnal guttural noises: snores, snorts, or worse. But there was something particularly awful about the combination of Jessie’s ear-shattering version of sleep apnea and Bree changing positions with a car-wobbling dramatic flop. Every. Single. Minute.
“I’m going to kill them,” she whispered to the Subaru, which must have been in as much pain as she was.
A wet guttural rattle from Jessie reminded her the seat belt wasn’t that far out of reach.
River was used to being in close quarters with the pair. Still, the SUV reminded her of a coffin, squeezing the life out of her with every snort and whack of Bree’s elbow into the seat back. Yep, lack of sleep or not, she was done.
Escaping the vehicle through the back hatch door, River resisted letting the door close with a loud thump.
Freed of her confines, River could finally take a deep breath, relaxing and appreciating the scenery around her. The sun never set this time of year, but within the shadow of the mountain range, they’d managed to sleep in a semblance of darkness. Now, as dawn approached, the dark grays and hazy blues of night had lightened, the sun rising higher in the sky. She had plenty of natural light to make her way across the parking lot and down to the road.
Yesterday had been tough, but things were looking better. They’d regrouped and decided to take Easton’s advice to film outside town. The guide service he’d suggested had been booked, but they’d been referred to someone else closer to Moose Springs. A local.
She really hoped this one was more welcoming then the ones they’d encountered so far.
After some research, they’d learned that Mount Veil was the most impressive and exciting geological location near Moose Springs. Something worth making a documentary about, something that could bring more attention to the town. Few people climbed it, but those who did all came down saying the experience had been amazing. And it was either that or film River walking along the road some more. Since River loved to climb, this documentary was exactly up her alley. Bree was instantly on board, but it had taken some convincing to get Jessie to agree to filming on a mountain.
He liked climbing, but he’d never summited a fourteener before.
“Not like we have a choice,” River said to herself, rolling her shoulders to try to ease the strain of the last few days.
She was standing on the precipice of one more failed project, and River wasn’t sure her career could survive much more. Standing there, worrying herself into a stomach ulcer wasn’t going to help anything. Muscles aching to be used, River considered going for a run. But with Mount Veil fresh in her mind, what she really wanted to do was climb. Climbing had always been a source of stress release for her. When things got too tough, River would head for the hills…literally. She’d always been able to find a calmness when climbing that no other form of exercise could match.
Maybe it was the fact that with each grip, each movement, she knew that some progress had been made. A set goal was clearly achieved. Unless she fell. And even falling—as much as it hurt—was better than standing still, doing nothing.
At least River would know she’d tried.
The parking lot turnoff was still in sight, if barely, by the time River found what she was looking for. It was only a roadcut, but the rock face was smooth and slick, a challenge worth tackling. The cold, hard granite beneath her fingertips had yet to weather into the soft, crumbling surface that left so many roadcuts too dangerous for climbing. This road was new, probably cut into the mountainside to build a backroad access to the resort during construction. River had done her research and knew the Moose Springs Resort had been around for almost twenty-five years.
Twenty-five years young…younger than her.
“Hollywood is the only place where almost thirty makes someone feel old,” River grumbled to herself, kicking off her shoes and socks. “And I am so over it.”