“Lots of things scare me.” Inhaling a deep breath, she reached above her head, looping her slender fingers around his wrist. “Going somewhere with you isn’t one of them.”
It had been a long time since he had wanted to kiss a woman this badly. Eyes flickering down to her mouth, he tried to tell himself this was a bad idea. Maybe it hadn’t been rust…
“You’re going up a mountain with me,” he reminded her, hating his own words. “We should probably keep this professional.”
“Agreed. You’re filming a movie with me.”
“I’m not—” he started to protest, but River’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Technically, you’re the male lead.”
Easton grimaced. “You promised it would only be my feet.”
“We’ll start with the feet and move up.”
Easton shifted closer, not because he wanted to but because he had to. Resisting her arm slipping around his waist wasn’t in the realm of possibilities.
“Thank you for showing me your torture barn,” she whispered.
“Thanks for not running screaming.”
When her fingers hooked into his, still above her head, and her other arm tightened around his waist, Easton took that as permission. The curve of her hip felt good beneath his palm, and when he tugged her closer, she came willingly. When she licked her lower lip, he started to dip his head down.
“River? Are you okay?” Bree’s voice calling from the house couldn’t have come at a worse time. “Easton, I know Krav Maga.”
Easton dropped his forehead to the barn wood above her head. “Everyone knows Krav Maga.”
“Bree’s actually good at it,” River said into his chest. When he pulled back, her hair gleamed like burning embers in the low light from the house windows. Never had Easton wanted to thread his fingers through something more.
“River?” Bree called again.
Stepping back to give her space, Easton sighed when River yelled back. “Bree, you have to see this.”
Abandoning him for Bree, River dragged her over to the barn. A couple of startled curses later, Bree let out an ooh of sheer pleasure. She stuck her head out the door, mirroring the mischief on River’s face.
“Easton,” Bree breathed. “You have to let us film this.”
• • •
In the end, the answer stayed a no, and Easton’s hands stayed to himself. It was probably better that way, especially considering how important it was they would be able to work with each other on the climb.
Bree and River played rock, paper, scissors for the couch after it had been determined no one was killing anyone or filming anything in the barn. They were still rechallenging each other when he went to bed, feeling guilty that one of the two women was going to end up sleeping in a nonreclining chair, and both were subjected to Jessie’s crescendo of nasal noises.
“Deviated septums don’t make friends, buddy,” Easton muttered to himself, listening to the other man’s snores.
Sleep didn’t come easily. Knowing she was sleeping in his living room made it hard to rest, and Easton’s brain kept rolling over the plans he had made. The supply list, the weather reports, the best places to take them to film, and the planned ascent. Details that were always important loomed larger in his mind.
Normally, Easton had a maximum of an afternoon of interaction with his clients before a climb. He’d never almost kissed one by his barn or had her crashed out on his couch.
An early riser, Easton maybe got an hour or two at most of rest before his eyes opened of their own accord. His house guests were dead to the world, never stirring even when Easton ate his breakfast and made a couple of calls. And when Ash’s Jeep pulled into the drive, he met her on the porch.
Sharper than the rest of them on her worst day, Ash immediately recognized the SUV in the drive.
“You brought them here?” she asked, stepping through the front door.
Following her inside, Easton shrugged. “I suffered a momentary lack of clarity.”
“I’ll say.” Ash snorted. “What if they try to murder you in your sleep? I don’t trust the actress. She looks like she’s one good sneeze away from a mental break.”
Opening one eye, the woman in question made a sleepy noise. “Hey. It’s at least two sneezes.” River yawned, pulled the blanket higher up her neck, then rolled over.
“She was sleeping in her car, Ash.”
“So? How is that your problem?”
“It wasn’t my problem.” Easton’s eyes flickered over to the red hair on his couch pillow. “These are my clients. I might as well start things off with them right. Did you get ahold of Ruby?”
“Yes, and I think you’re drinking the Kool-Aid. She’s willing to meet everyone. But seriously, don’t drag it out. Ruby Lou’s not as young as she used to be.”
“None of us are,” Easton said. “Is everything ready for tomorrow?”
“It will be.” Ash crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll fly up there and drop off the supplies, but don’t expect me to do anything but drop it.”
He hadn’t expected her to. Wrapping his sister in a hug—and earning a gagging noise from her in response—Easton smirked as she fought her way free.
“Gross. Take a shower.” As she left, Ash pointed a warning finger at him. “Stress out my grandma, and I’m kicking your ass.”
“Yup.”
On the off chance he actually smelled as bad as his sister inferred, Easton took his shower. Having so many people in his house wasn’t uncomfortable or abnormal; they’d been having parties here for a lot of years now. More than once, his friends or family had slept on his couch, floor, or even porch. What Easton wasn’t used to was having strangers in his home.
He almost ran into River as he left the bathroom, still rubbing the towel over his hair to dry it.
“Whoa.” River took a step back, eyes widening. Thinking he’d startled her off-balance, Easton reached for her arm to steady her.
“Dude,” Jessie murmured to Bree at the end of the hall. “Did he move in slow motion for anyone else? Like, step, step, towel, wet hair flip, sexy naked rescue.”
“He didn’t rescue me.” River’s eyes narrowed. “He grabbed on.”
Well, that wasn’t fair.
“River bobbled. And I didn’t flip my hair.”
“You kind of flipped your hair,” River told him. “There was a motion.”