Enjoy the View

by Sarah Morgenthaler

“I checked the weather report. Winds are gusting on the mountain until noon tomorrow. It isn’t safe for Ash to fly in there to drop off the supplies until later, and we’re too much weight to all go at the same time. We’ll get a start first thing the day after. You have some time tomorrow if you need to shoot anything else.”

  “I think the guys are pretty set,” River admitted. “But I’ll ask them. We would have loved to get some more interviews about the area, but no one wants to talk to us.”

  “It’s not personal. When you have so many people rotating in and out of your town, you start to avoid the faces you don’t recognize. We’re nice, but a lot of the resort’s clientele are…”

  Easton hesitated.

  “Rich, entitled, won’t lift a finger for themselves?” River shrugged. “Yeah, I know the type. I know lots of great people in LA, but once in a while, someone is a real stinker.”

  He grimaced. “The first few years after the resort was built, we all tried to embrace the visitors. Welcome them, be helpful. Alaska is a friendly state. But at some point, the town ran out of patience.”

  “Aren’t you dependent on tourism? That’s why I’m here, remember? To help increase the amount of tourism in the area.”

  “Those are fighting words around here,” he told her, not unkindly but definitely not joking. “Do you know how many times I was asked for directions last year? Four hundred and thirty-two. The town had a contest, and I came in second.”

  “I can’t believe people were brave enough to approach you that many times.” After some quick math in her head, River’s jaw dropped. “That’s one point two times a day all year long. Who won?”

  “Jonah, poor guy.”

  “I’m having a hard time feeling too sorry for him.”

  Easton’s low laugh was comfortable as it filled the air around her. Scooting her chair closer to him was too easy. River leaned in to look at the notebook next to his maps. He’d marked down a list of the days they would be gone, with some numbers next to it.

  “Negative forty?” she asked. “In July?”

  “That’s the range, but most days won’t get that cold. A lot depends on the windchill.” Easton tapped a thumb against the notebook. “The sooner we start up, the more days we have in case something goes wrong.”

  Glancing at him, River asked, “Do you expect there to be problems?”

  “No, but I try to prepare for them if I can.”

  That would have to be good enough. River had never been on a guided climb before, only outings with friends or alone, so she had to trust he knew what he was doing. Still, her need to understand everything made her steal the next in his pile of maps.

  “Okay, so what am I looking at here?” Waggling her eyebrows at him, River added, “An X usually marks the treasure.”

  “In this case, X marks where Ash is kicking us all out of her helicopter. You want to film the best parts of Mount Veil, right? We need to start here, low of the south face of the mountain. We’ll be below ten thousand feet here, but don’t be fooled. That’s some rough country.”

  “Grizzly country?”

  His eyes met hers. “We’re in Alaska. You’re going to have a hard time staying away from the wildlife. But I’d worry more about the moose. They kill more people here than bears or wolves ever do.”

  “Wolves.” River took a deep breath. “Okay, I can handle this.”

  “I’m not planning on letting anything eat you,” Easton said. “It’s harder to get paid that way.”

  She flashed him a quick grin. “Half up front, half when I don’t die?”

  “All up front, but I get my gratuity if you don’t die.”

  “Deal.”

  River held out her fist to bump his without considering the effect it would have on them when his skin touched hers. Their eyes met again, and this time, River looked away first in an attempt to cover her reaction to the contact.

  Clearing his throat gruffly, Easton ran his finger along the topographic map of Mount Veil. “We’ll climb along this path until we reach the tree line. Once we’re above that, the climb gets tougher. We’ll pass through the Veil—”

  “What’s the Veil?”

  “You’ll see,” he told her. “It’s not worth ruining the surprise of seeing it for the first time. Descriptions never do it justice anyway. And that’s as far as I can promise to take you. Going through the Veil requires skill, and mistakes there can kill. If all of you are okay through the Veil, then we’ll reevaluate whether we’re going to summit.”

  “What do you mean, whether?” River immediately forgot all about sexy rough knuckles and biceps the size of her head. She bristled. “I’m not going on a nature walk here, Easton. I have a job to do, and we’re already pushing things by going outside city limits.”

  “River, is there a clause in your contract about payment upon delivery of the film?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because we’ve successfully run out every single film crew that’s ever come here. I understand you have a job to do, but so do I. I’ll help you get your movie made, but not at the expense of your safety.”

  “How about this: we’ll summit unless the risk of death or near dismemberment looms above us. If it does, then you’ll turn your head and pretend not to notice me summiting.”

  “We’ll figure it out when we get up there,” Easton said firmly. “I’ll try my best.”

  “It’s not Denali,” she reminded him.

  “This mountain has taken over a dozen lives in the last twenty years. I’d rather not have you and yours on my conscience.”

  As he talked, Easton leaned his head to the side, cracking his neck. The action distracted her, pulling her attention to his hair. The man bun taunted her with its very presence. What was under there? More glorious hair? Or something thin, wispy, and frightening to behold?

  “The Old Man is isolated. Almost no one climbs it, so there isn’t a tent city, like with Denali. Getting the camps set at higher altitude will be a lot of work.” Easton gave her a suspicious look. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” Innocence. Maintain the innocence.

  He wasn’t buying it. “You’re craning your head and staring at me, River.”

  “I’m just…thinking,” she murmured.

  “About my head?”

  “Something like that.”

  The kitchen was cooler than River was used to, or maybe the excitement and nerves of the climb were starting to hit her. Either way, he noticed the tiny shiver that went through her.

  “You want some coffee?”

  River always wanted some coffee. That was a given. She also wanted a blanket, so she went into the living room closet where Easton had told her extra blankets were available. She could hear Easton tinkering with the coffeepot in the kitchen as she checked on her friends.

  Jessie had passed out in the recliner, out like a light. Cuddled up on the couch, Bree was almost there herself. Taking a moment to tuck a blanket around each of them, River took the last blanket—a well-loved and well-worn quilt—and returned to the kitchen. Easton had started a pot of coffee and set two mugs on the counter.

  “Caffeine at night? You live a risky life, Easton Lockett.”

  His warm, deep chuckle was even better than the blanket she’d pulled around her shoulders. “It’s decaf,” he said. “Either way, that doesn’t hit me as hard as it does some people.”

  “High tolerance?”

  “I think there’s more of me to caffeinate than most.” The pot finished dripping, so Easton handed her a cup. “Creamer and sweetener are on the counter.”

  River fixed her coffee, then settled back down at the kitchen table. “You used a real coffeepot. I haven’t seen one of those in years. No coffee pods for you?”

  “Nope. Those things are wasteful. Bad for the environment. That sort of thing bot
hers us up here.”

  Sighing in contentment at her drink, River tucked her legs beneath her, curling up as much as she could on a hard kitchen chair. “Thanks for the coffee. And for taking us in. We’re a motley crew, aren’t we?”

  “It’s fine. Though I’m kind of surprised I have to take you in.” After adding creamer to his own mug, he joined her at the table. “Are you going to tell me why you were sleeping in your car instead of staying in the resort?”

  “We…sort of got kicked out.” At the growing smirk on his face, River pushed on defensively. “Hey, it wasn’t my fault. There was a black bear right outside the lobby. Do you know how often you get something like that? Of course, we had to film it. That’s a given.”

  “Which makes the resort look like they aren’t safe.” Easton smiled so wide, she could finally see his white teeth. “Literally the one place in this whole town that would have welcomed you, and you turn them against you.”

  “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

  “Seems risky though, knowing you didn’t have permits. There’s some heavy fines for those kinds of shenanigans.”

  “Don’t worry. Your guide check won’t bounce, but don’t expect more than the standard gratuity for your efforts. It’s okay to be subpar.”

  Easton exhaled a small laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t have it in me.”

  “Sweetheart?”

  Flushing, he actually scooted back in his chair as if to give her more room. “Sorry, that slipped out.”

  Truly sounding apologetic—and a bit embarrassed—Easton glanced down at the papers on the tabletop without meeting her gaze.

  Touching her fingertips to his arm to pull his attention back to her, River winked at him. “I like it better when you say it instead of the tabloids. I might actually believe you. And yes, I took the risk. I have a bad habit of leaping before I look.” Sipping her coffee, she hummed in contentment at the warmth going down her throat. “Everything in life is a gamble, Mr. Lockett. You might have a barn full of meat hooks after all. But you never win unless you try.”

  A sheepish expression crossed his face. “Will you be super freaked out if I tell you I really do have a barn full of meat hooks?”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  She pushed his arm with the flat of her hand. “Shut up. You don’t.”

  “Five bucks, you won’t even step foot in there. My great-aunt and great-uncle used to live here. Fishing and hunting wild game were how they survived through the winter. I used to be scared to death of their barn when I was a little kid.”

  “How about now?” she pressed.

  Easton’s beard twitched. “Now, I don’t go in there.”

  River could feel her eyes widen. “You’re too chicken to take them down.”

  “I’m not chicken. I just don’t…” Easton trailed off. “Yeah, it’s pretty much the worst. I’m too chicken.”

  “Show me.”

  “You’ll run screaming,” he warned her.

  “Oh no, there’s no backing out,” River breathed. “You have to show me.”

  “When you start screaming, Jessie and Bree will start screaming.”

  “We’re going outside right now.”

  Rising to his feet, Easton offered her his hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  • • •

  As dates went, it was good they weren’t on one. Taking a woman to a barn full of sharp, pointy objects was not a great way to be romantic. Especially when Easton was struggling to keep his eyes on her face and not the curve of her hips wrapped up in his favorite blanket.

  The hand-stitched quilt his grandmother had given him never looked so good.

  Technically, he was showing her the barn, but River was three steps ahead of him, her hands finding the side door and tugging. Her enthusiasm would have been endearing if he didn’t think they were a few precious moments from her calling the cops on him.

  “Why do you keep the door locked?” River tried to peer in a cobweb-covered window. “Are there people in there? Animals? People-animals?”

  This was already a bad idea. “I have cousins with small children,” Easton told her. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  She watched with eagerness as he unlocked the door and twisted the handle. The stupid thing always got stuck. “You’re totally going to take me captive, aren’t you?”

  Did she have to sound so happy about the prospect?

  “Remember, this was your idea, not mine,” Easton said. “I was fine drinking coffee at the kitchen table.” Setting his shoulder to the door, he gave enough of a shove to force the creaky thing open.

  When she started to step inside, Easton grabbed for her hand. “Hold on. Let me find a light. It’s dangerous in here.”

  “How dangerous? I’ll accidentally step in the pit you’ve dug to keep innocent, naïve film crews in type of dangerous?”

  “Sue me and take my business and all my family’s property type of dangerous.”

  “You’re not supporting the narrative I built up in my head about this, Easton. You’re being a party pooper.”

  Wiping the cobwebs off his other hand, he found the light switch. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

  The small wooden barn was flooded with light, albeit the muted light of bulbs covered in dust. There were very legitimate reasons why this barn had terrified him as a child.

  River turned a circle, staring up at the ceiling and walls, where every farming utensil known to modern man was either hung or suspended. A table in the corner, stained with years of cleaning game, was particularly horrific to behold. Chains hung from beams for reasons still unknown to his adult mind.

  And the scythe collection. Who kept a scythe collection?

  “This. Is. Insane.” River’s eyes looked about to pop out of her head, they were so wide. “No, really, Easton. Your great-uncle was a nut job. Is that a headless mannequin?”

  “There are more in the next room. Want to see?”

  Of course she wanted to see. There wasn’t one or two. The barn was full of so many headless mannequins.

  “What did he do with the heads?” River asked. “Do you think he kept them?”

  “I always assumed they came without the heads.”

  “No way. Not with that many scythes.”

  Scratching the back of his neck, Easton felt obligated to defend his kin. “He was a nice man. Always helped out around the community.”

  “As a cover for his evening exploits?” A gasp of utter delight came from her mouth. “This is so macabre. Let me film this. Please, pretty please, I have to film this.”

  “No way. Okay, you’ve had your peek.” He started to gently herd her back into the main part of the barn and toward the door, but River ducked beneath his arm, sneaking past him.

  “No, Easton, it’s so awful, no one would ever believe me if I don’t have proof.” Grabbing a chain hanging from the rafters, she wiggled it. “You have to let me film this. You could sell tickets to this place. Is that blood?”

  “It’s probably rust.”

  “But you don’t know.”

  Extracting her from the barn was going to require more effort. “I have ice cream in the house.” Sweets always lured people, didn’t they?

  “I don’t eat sugar late at night.”

  Except for her. Easton grabbed the chain above her hand, giving it a test tug, since she seemed determined to hang off it.

  “Who doesn’t eat sugar at night?” he asked.

  “People who are supposed to be a size zero for the camera but are stuck at normal human being sizes.”

  Smiling down at the stunning redhead, Easton decided he liked her just as she was. “It’s a tough life being famous.”

  “It had its perks.”

  “Had?” Standing so near hadn’
t been the plan, especially since he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Some of the perks are still currently being appreciated.” When River’s gaze lingered at his bicep, Easton wondered if maybe this steadily growing attraction wasn’t all one-sided.

  He really hoped it wasn’t.

  “I prefer a life of constant motion,” River added. “Work has become stagnant of late, so I’m carving my own path, making the most of the opportunities out there.”

  “I keep noticing.” Watching her lick her lower lip was killing him. His voice lowered. “You’re hard to miss.”

  “Be careful, Easton,” River warned him. “Keep going both shoulders on me, and I might like it.”

  Easton wasn’t sure who had closed the distance between them, him or her. Either way, neither was backing down. The only thing stranger than standing in this barn was standing in it smelling the shampoo from her still-wet hair, wondering what it might be like to wrap his arm around her, to draw her in close and see if this was more than some good-natured teasing.

  Suddenly, she giggled. “You are not flirting with me surrounded by what is definitely not rust.”

  “You started it.”

  Winking, River said, “I’ll kiss you right now if you admit your great-uncle chopped the mannequin heads off with the scythes.”

  Again, Easton’s bone-deep loyalty reared its ugly head, when other options seemed much more enticing. “I think the mannequin heads were used as part of a health class thing for the local high school. Some body part identification project.”

  “That is so, so disappointing.”

  Sighing, River leaned too heavily on her definitely-not-rust chain. Years of neglect and a loose bolt resulted in the entire thing giving way. She shrieked as the chain fell over her shoulders and feet with an excessive amount of clanging and clattering, dust and cobwebs and a few spiders along with it.

  “It’s in my mouth. The blood dust is in my mouth,” River wailed as she spat and flailed at her face, not that her actions were doing much to save herself. “I’m eating someone. I’ve been in the mountains of Alaska for less than a week, and I’m already eating someone.”

  Picking a few spiderwebs out of her hair for her, Easton watched as she dusted herself off. “I told you it’s not safe in here. But no. You had to come see.”