Enjoy the View

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  “Okay, fine. We’ll figure out a way to get around the NDA.” A pause, then she added in a low purr, “You know I love it when you say my full name.”

  Yep. Which was why he always told himself not to say it.

  • • •

  Coffee with Tasha wasn’t safe. Neither was the location where she wanted to meet, but Dirty Joe’s Coffee Woes was adjacent to the park where he’d scheduled River and her team to meet him. Easton didn’t have a home office. A website—grudgingly done by Ash—was the limit to his advertising. He wasn’t interested in expanding, and he received far more requests for climbs than he could ever accommodate.

  Most of his climbs were Denali, but Easton was one of only a couple of guides in the state who would take clients up Mount Veil. And if he could, Easton always accepted the climbs for Mount Veil every time.

  He loved that mountain. Tasha knew it too.

  The coffee shop was a tiny place, constantly busy with only a few bistro tables and mismatched chairs to share between the customers. Usually Easton got his coffee and drank it in the park, but Tasha had either the luck to get the table in the corner or had bribed—or driven—someone to vacate their seat. Normally, he would have offered to buy her a coffee, because coffee generally turned into lunch, then dinner, then his place. This time, he bought his own coffee, only felt a little guilty about not offering to buy hers, and then sat down with her.

  Tasha took a sip, eyes locked on him. “So you’re heading up the Old Man again. Are you excited? This is the second time this season, right?”

  He nodded, remaining silent.

  She knew fully well Easton had done a run at Mount Veil at the start of the summer, escorting a small group of hikers out of Anchorage up the mountain before taking a group up Denali at the end of May and then another in June. The Denali trek was three weeks long, and most guides didn’t take a second trip up there like Easton had. The Denali money was good, and no one had expected him to go for a fourth summit that summer.

  Easton hadn’t planned on it either, but River Lane had a way of messing with his plans.

  Tapping her fingernails against the handle of her coffee cup, Tasha pursed her lips. “Aren’t you worried you’re pushing it? That’s a lot of high-altitude climbing in one season.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Tasha chuckled. “Short, succinct answers. I really got you on the piece, huh? It wasn’t personal, Easton. You know we’re always good.”

  Even as she sat across from him, a table safely between them, Easton could see the way Tasha was fidgeting in her seat. She had two modes: a hundred miles an hour or sleeping. At one point, it had seemed cute. Now, he recognized it for what it was. She was ready to pounce.

  He just didn’t know if it was the verbal pouncing or the other kind.

  “I’m trying to keep myself out of more trouble,” Easton replied. “And the Old Man isn’t the tallest peak in the state. I’ll be fine.”

  “Do you ever get tired of taking peak baggers up there? Because if this documentary is at all successful, you’re going to get overrun with groups wanting to add our mountain to their list of conquests. Isn’t part of being a hidden gem staying hidden?”

  “You think I’m trying to make an extra buck at the town’s expense.” It wasn’t a question. Tasha leaned in, voice lowered. “I think you have a family that relies on your income.”

  “Ash and Dad are doing fine.” Easton frowned at her. “Tash, do you actually believe what you put in that article?”

  For once, she hesitated, glancing away. “I think social outrage sells stories.”

  “At my expense? At my clients’ expenses?” He wasn’t hurt. Tasha wasn’t someone Easton had let close enough to hurt him, but he was wary.

  “Like I said, it’s nothing personal.” Taking his hand, Tasha squeezed his fingers. “But if I upset you, I’m sorry.”

  Easton didn’t have the willpower to be mad at many people. Grumpy, yes. Mad, no. Squeezing back, he removed his hand from hers. Fingers were much safer when wrapped around a coffee cup.

  “It’s fine. You’re doing your job.”

  The defensiveness in her shoulders softened. “Thanks, Easton. You know how I get when I’m onto something good. And your client is the hot button story in this town right now. Famous actress on a career slide—”

  At his confused look, Tasha leaned in again. “Didn’t you know? You probably didn’t watch her films, did you? The last few have been flops. Now River’s behind the camera, here. Do you think she’s trying to make a name for herself as a filmmaker? The entertainment industry is notorious for keeping women and marginalized groups from behind the camera. Is that why she took this job?”

  Just because she wasn’t trying to trick him—he hoped—didn’t mean Tasha wouldn’t print anything he accidentally let slip. Easton didn’t know a thing about his client other than her name and someone in her crew liked pineapple on their pepperoni pizza. He’d been forced to smell that particular combination in the pizza box sign long enough. But Tasha would never believe that.

  Taking refuge behind the NDA was the safest bet. “Nondisclosure agreement, remember?”

  Tasha snickered. “You’re immovable, aren’t you? That’s why I like you. You’ve always been a challenge. Why didn’t we ever work out?”

  “We weren’t that compatible.”

  That was a softer version of the truth. The thing was, Tasha wasn’t loyal. She wasn’t disloyal per se, but Easton was going to die with the name of every person he’d ever cared about etched onto his heart. The names weren’t many, but they ran deep. Not falling for Tasha was the best thing Easton had ever done for himself.

  “We weren’t that incompatible,” Tasha reminded him.

  Well…that was true too.

  Easton was saved from having to reply by the bell jingling as a new customer hustled through the door, auburn hair loose around her shoulders.

  River was either oblivious to or didn’t care how many eyes drifted her way, including Easton’s own. Busy scrolling through her phone as she stood in line, River was halfway to the counter before she noticed Easton noticing her. River hopped out of line and met him at the table.

  “Hey, I didn’t realize you’d be here.” The stunning redhead gave them both a warm greeting as she checked the smartwatch on her wrist. “I was going to grab something before we met up.”

  Easton raised his own cup in salute. “Great minds think alike.”

  “Or redundantly,” she countered playfully. Rolling her eyes, she added, “Did you see that article today in the local paper? Someone is getting a strongly worded letter. We haven’t even started to film yet, and apparently we’re the scourge of the town—”

  “River.” Cutting her off midsentence, Easton looked toward his companion. “This is Tasha.”

  “Oh, sorry.” River offered a hand to the other woman. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Tasha perked up immediately. “Come join us. I’d love to buy you a cup of coffee.”

  Even as she scooted her chair over to make room, River’s blue eyes were narrowing. “Wait, what was your name again?”

  “Be careful what you say around her,” Easton warned, only half playfully. “She’s a reporter.”

  Tasha gave him a horrified look. “Tattle much?”

  Easton rose and put a few dollars on the table. “You can handle yourself.” When he glanced at River, he saw her staring at Tasha with flat dislike. He hid his mirth behind his coffee cup. “You both can. A smart man leaves at this point.”

  Heading for the door, Easton could hear his client’s voice, volume and tone flexing around her words as if they were living beings.

  “You know what, Tasha? I’m actually really glad to run into you this morning. And yes, I’d love to chat. Number one, and this is absolutely on the record: Don’t you dare think for one second you
can come after a member of my team and get away with it. Easton is officially on the payroll, so back off my people. Number two—”

  As the door shut behind him, Easton couldn’t help a slight smile. One of her people, huh? He’d been called worse things.

  Chapter 5

  River wouldn’t lie. She’d enjoyed every second of letting the reporter have it.

  One of the things she’d been warned of early in her career was that above all else, she needed to be pleasant. Don’t make waves. Don’t push back. And maybe at first, she’d gone along with it because she was new to LA, broke and scared. Hungry for more than only her dream of being an actress, River had been living off discount peanut butter and stale bread, sleeping in her car, and praying she didn’t have to tuck tail and crawl back home defeated. She’d needed the work, so she’d followed that advice.

  One of the things she had finally learned in the industry was her most important lesson yet. Pleasant was code for pushover.

  Screw. That.

  She’d had her fair share of battles with the press, and while some reporter with an agenda to push was not even on her radar of what affected her, Tasha crossed the line when she went after Easton. He was the only one in this town who’d tried to help them, and trying to make him feel bad for taking her and the crew to Mount Veil was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  And boy, taking the reporter to task had been exactly what she needed.

  Two coffees in hand, River nearly bounced as she crossed the street to the park where she’d left the rental SUV. A familiar faded red truck was parked next to her. Leaning against the tailgate, Easton Lockett was a sight for sore eyes.

  “Should I make sure Tasha still has a pulse?” he asked.

  “I probably shouldn’t have been so tough on her,” River said. “But she was mean to you, and you’re very good-looking.”

  The beard twitched. If he was smiling under there, it was impossible to tell, but her gut said his lips were doing something.

  “Do I need to call for Jonah again?”

  River laughed, leaning back against the tailgate next to him. “You realize you’ve been threatening me with the cops since the minute we met. I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”

  “I’m going into the bush with you.” Arms folded loose across his chest, it was hard not to notice biceps the size of his, right at her eye level. “If I didn’t trust you, I’d never step foot above ten thousand feet with you.”

  “What about below ten thousand feet?” she asked.

  “I can hold my own closer to sea level.” He gazed down at her, adding mischievously, “But canceling on you might be even scarier.”

  “Oh, trust me, it would be.” River handed him the second coffee. “Here, I brought you a refill. Least I can do for making you the talk of the town.”

  “Not a big deal.” Even with the beard, River could see him choke on his first sip of coffee. “Damn, woman. What did you put in here?”

  “Hey, I never claimed to know how you like your coffee. I just brought you one. I call that the River Lane special. Half hot chocolate, half coffee, and enough espresso to raise your heart rate.”

  “You’re worse than Ash.” The man was brave enough to take another sip, grimace, then keep on drinking.

  River gestured toward the SUV. “Okay, how do we do this?”

  “We need to do an equipment check. And then afterward, I need to evaluate everyone’s skill levels. Where’s the rest of the crew?”

  “Shooting B-roll.”

  “Shooting who?”

  Upon seeing the confused expression on his face, River had to hide her smile behind her cup. “B-roll is extra footage that can be used to fill in gaps in the documentary. We’re trying to get everything we can before we leave town. Don’t worry. I have everyone’s packs in the car.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re going to get caught. There’s an official watch out on you right now.”

  River almost spit her coffee. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “The town has a message board, and everyone posts the newest film crew sighting. They have you on high alert.”

  “Show me.”

  After some serious pressure, Easton finally caved and took out his phone. Sure enough, the website he pulled up showed a running list of—

  “Wait. Are they calling this alien invader sightings?”

  “They think Jessie kind of looks like E.T.”

  “I mean…they’re not wrong.” River slumped against the truck. “Is this why Jonah shows up everywhere we are?”

  “Probably.” His expression shifted from amusement to a frown. “If I’m taking everyone up, I need an accurate skill assessment of all of them.”

  “We’re a skeleton crew, big guy. We all split the tasks, or we’d never get anything done. Don’t worry. They’ll get here eventually.”

  Easton wasn’t happy with her answer. “Then this will have to wait.”

  When River opened her mouth, Easton cut her off before she dug her heels in and forced the issue. “I understand the conflict, and I’m not disagreeing with your need for splitting tasks. I just can’t responsibly take you three up a mountain like Veil and not have an idea of your competency levels. I’ve had clients who’d never used crampons. I’ve had clients who didn’t even know how to put them on or had the wrong size for their boots. Now’s the time to be figuring this out, not after the helicopter has dropped us off on the slope.”

  River perked up. “Oooh, we’re taking a helicopter?”

  “Unless you want to hike miles of tundra and destroy your feet before we get there.” Easton gave her a sexy smile. “Have at it, but I’m taking the helicopter.”

  That smile was far more dangerous than even the broad shoulders or tightly muscled arms only inches away from her. To distract herself, River changed the subject. “Do you think we’ll need the crampons? We got them because they were on the list, but I’ve never needed them before.” River pulled a receipt out of her pocket, waving it at him. “I kept thinking you were going to add a kitchen sink. And then you did.”

  “It’s not a sink. It’s a lightweight collapsible bowl for washing dishes when we’re lower on the mountain. Believe it or not, fish don’t love soap bubbles in their rivers.”

  “And Rivers can read. The label says camping sink. See? Right here. Sink.”

  Chuckling, he finished his coffee and folded the paper cup, tucking it in his pocket. “Trust me, you’ll want it. And we won’t need the crampons at first, but we’ll be climbing a glacier once we get above the tree line. You’ll be glad when the mountain turns into one massive Slip ‘N Slide.”

  “Is it bad I might enjoy that?”

  “Yes, because it’s my job to dive after you.”

  River gave a playful sigh. “And we were never heard from again. At least it was good while it lasted.”

  “We’ll always have the police station,” he agreed placidly.

  “And the weird bucket sink that’s not a sink but is totally a sink.”

  Silence, then Easton looked over at her. “They aren’t coming, are they?”

  “They’re probably running from Officer Jonah as we speak.”

  Easton checked the website on his phone. “They were last seen in—” He paused midsentence, scanning the thread. “The resort lobby.”

  “That’s not creepy at all. Where am I?”

  A flush reddened his forehead. “Flirting with me in the park across from Dirty Joe’s Coffee Woes.”

  She twisted the cup in her hand. “Is that what DJCW stands for?”

  “He’s not that dirty,” Easton assured her.

  “But he is or at some point has been dirty. Enough to have earned the nickname Dirty Joe.”

  His mouth twitched upward again.

  Suddenly, the coffee in her
cup was far less appealing. “Your town is the weirdest town, you know that, right?”

  “We do our best. You need to call your people, but you and I can go over most of this together now. That’ll cut the least into their filming time. And running from Jonah time.”

  There really was no arguing with his logic. She had no choice but to agree.

  When River made the call, at first she only got hard pushback. They’d found the perfect place to hide on the resort grounds and had set up the tripod. Tearing down now would only cause more work than they’d scheduled time for that day. Bree, carefree as always, was more than willing to adjust plans, but Jessie made his normal fuss. Finally, River managed to lure Jessie in with agreeing to buy everyone dinner afterward but not without a few well-honed barbs on his end about River’s pain in the ass new boyfriend.

  “Well, that was unpleasant.” She hung up the phone, joining Easton at the pile of gear they’d pulled from her vehicle and spread on the ground.

  “I could hear him from all the way over here.” Easton picked up one of their tents. “That guy’s got a pair of lungs on him.”

  “And I was accused of being dramatic. Speaking of, you have the face.”

  “What face?”

  “The face you had when I asked you to agree to be filmed. What’s wrong?”

  He lifted up the lightweight tent in one hand. “This is a single-walled tent.”

  Easton frowned at the matching tents in her crew’s equipment piles. She didn’t know why. Of all their gear, the brand-new tents were the best part.

  “Yeah, we got a great price on them too. I haggled.”

  “Successfully?”

  “Oh definitely. They never saw us coming. I haggled them down and then hit them with a group coupon. Not only was the price fabulous, they’re four-season tents and weigh under two pounds.” River mimicked an explosion with her hand, then wriggled her fingertips at Easton. “Boom.”

  He smacked an open palm down on the tent fabric. “I hate to break it to you, but a single-walled tent up there is going to turn into a condensation factory. The moisture will coat the inside of your tent, refreeze, and fall on your head. You don’t want to sleep in that; it’ll be a nightmare.”