Home > Enjoy the View (Moose Springs, Alaska #3)(43)

Enjoy the View (Moose Springs, Alaska #3)(43)
Author: Sarah Morgenthaler

   “I believe you,” Easton said. “Ben, her heart rate is elevated, probably because of the pain. River, do you have any allergies? Any problems with painkillers?”

   “I’m in show business. We pop painkillers like popcorn.”

   “You’re from the country, River. Don’t pretend you’re not as tough as nails. I already know better.”

   She could hear the kindness in his voice, even though River wasn’t about to open her eyes to look for herself.

   “Ben, I need something to cover her face. The sun’s too bright right now. It’s coming right through the tent.”

   “Here,” Ben’s voice murmured. “Med kit is right by your foot.”

   “Thanks. River, I’m going to wrap something around your head. It’s not going to feel good, but you’ll be glad of it later.”

   “I’m fine. Do whatever.” And then toss her off the mountain, or at least everything from the shoulders up.

   Even though they were both talking very quietly, Ben sounded like he was yelling against her eardrum. “What are you thinking, boss? Want me to call Ash to come get her?”

   “I’m not going down,” River told them as someone gently tied a folded-up bandanna over her eyes. “It’s only a headache.”

   “Maybe, but maybe not.” Easton helped draw an extra blanket around her. “Up here, a headache can mean a lot of things.”

   “Easton, don’t you dare kill this project for something stupid.”

   Despite her arguing with him, Easton’s voice remained quiet and soothing. “I’m not going to ruin your film unless I have to. But trust me, River, the moment I have to, I’m not thinking twice. Is everything dark?”

   “Yeah, but—”

   She clamped down on the rest of her sentence, swallowing her complaint and internalizing the pain. Having something tied around her head only caused the viselike agony to ratchet off the charts. Freedom from the bright sunlight streaming through the tent was nowhere close to being worth it.

   River reached to pull the blindfold from her head, but Easton caught her fingers, squeezing in reassurance.

   “I’m going to put a water bottle to your lips. Try to keep it down. The last thing you want is to be dehydrated. Ben, give me that small pill bottle.”

   The rattling of the pills rattled her brains, even though all Ben did was pick them up. “Are you sure? This is some strong stuff. She’ll be a zombie.”

   “I’m sure I’m not letting her get shocky from pain. River, I’ve got two pills in my hands. I need you to swallow them for me and not throw them up. Can you do that?”

   “Will they help?” she joked in a weak, strained voice. “If not, no promises.”

   “They’ll knock you out in five minutes.”

   “Give me the pills.”

   Despite her assurance she could keep them down, River almost didn’t succeed. She wasn’t prone to headaches, but this one was crushing her from the inside out. She felt like she was going to die. She wanted to die, or at least stuff her fingers inside her brain and rip out anything and everything making her head want to explode—oh. Oh.

   Whatever he’d given her, it worked.

   If she didn’t have a blindfold over her eyes, tied around a rapidly shrinking head, the world around River might have gone blessedly blurry. Instead, it went darker.

   “How are you feeling?” Easton asked her softly. “River, can you hear me?”

   She would have answered, but her mouth was done moving, her lips more than happy to stay exactly where they were. The conversation around her was becoming detached, muddled, like they were walking backward in a tunnel. River didn’t even mind when Easton’s fingertips brushed her forehead, checking for fever.

   “She’s out,” Ben decided.

   Yes. Yes, she was.

   • • •

   The wind whistled steadily in River’s ears. Her first thought was it reminded her of the whistle of the supply trains moving through the pasture back home. Her second thought was the sound didn’t weigh like a freight train on her brain.

   Whatever Easton had given her, it worked like a charm.

   She still felt fuzzy, but when River reached up to touch her temple, she was met with only fabric, not throbbing. Unwinding the bandanna from her head, she blinked in the muted light of early morning. She’d slept the whole night through, and she’d stolen Easton’s tent to do it in.

   Peering around at the tent felt like sneaking a peek into someone’s bedroom. “So this is what it’s like to be our fearless leader,” River murmured to herself.

   The urge to snoop was hard to resist, but a man who helped keep her brain from tripling in size was a man whose things should remain safe from prying eyes. Still, it was fun to imagine what Easton-sized secrets his backpack held.

   Other than his love of mountaineering and his general distaste for having cameras on him, River didn’t know all that much about Easton Lockett. Except he was gorgeous, and when she’d been in pain, the weight of his hands on her had felt as good as anything could have at the time. Solid. Reassuring.

   Rolling over onto her belly, River wriggled toward the tent entrance, intending on taking a peek outside to see what everyone was doing. The tent unzipped as River reached for the pull, leaving her nose-to-stomach with the man himself.

   Whatever he’d been doing, Easton had exerted himself enough that his face was flushed, and he was sweating.

   Easton gazed down at her, as if finding a woman’s nose in his stomach was an everyday occurrence to him.

   “Hey,” she said, like this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

   The corner of his mouth ticked up on one side as he took her in. “Hey. You look good.” Raising an eyebrow at his comment, River had the absolute pleasure of watching Easton blush. “I mean, your color’s better. You’re not so pale.”

   Rolling back to her knees, River made room for him to climb inside his tent. “I feel a lot better,” she admitted as he sat next to her and pulled off his boots. He knocked the snow off outside the entrance, then set them in the corner, tidily organized, like the rest of his things.

   Speaking of looking good, his hair was down, falling to his shoulders. River had never particularly cared one way or another about a man’s hair, but his was so long. And shiny. She wanted to run her hands through it.

   “I need to grab a fresh shirt,” Easton informed her, his voice pitched quiet.

   “I can leave,” River offered.

   With a shake of his head, Easton turned her down. “It’s blustering right now. Everyone’s tucked in. Might as well stay until it dies down.”

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