Bree gave him a considering look before turning to River. “I know you’re juggling a lot of jobs right now, but we can’t get a good take if you get yourself kidnapped. A true crime documentary wasn’t the plan.”

The man with the truck raised his hand. “Technically, I think she kidnapped me.”

“Who is that?” Jessie asked, pointing at her new bearded acquaintance. “He looks like an ax murderer.”

The pair looked at River expectantly. River shrugged. “I literally have no idea.”

They all turned to him, the massive stranger standing there, looking more awkward than she’d ever seen anyone appear in her life.

“Easton Lockett,” he grunted by way of introduction.

“You got in a car with him and you didn’t know who he was?” Jessie groaned. “People die that way.”

Bree snickered. “Why are we so concerned about her? He’s the one who looks like he needs a stiff drink.”

“My morning has been more interesting than I expected,” Easton told them.

Jessie nodded in understanding. “Actresses, right? Total drama queens.”

“Excuse me?” River turned on Jessie. “I’m not the one causing the drama.”

“No, you’re just picking up strays on the highway like puppies.”

They started arguing about who was the bigger pain in the ass, and River would have won if not for Easton interrupting by clearing his throat.

“I’d like to help get you out of here. Any way we could move this along?”

They all stared at him—understandably. The man was a mountain. Bree’s head tilted to the side. “You look like Hagrid. A sexy, muscly Hagrid.”

The poor man actually cringed. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to leave.”

“No, wait a minute.” River rubbed the bridge of her nose to ease the stress headache headed her way. “Listen, we need to get this footage for the intro to our documentary. I didn’t waste half the day for nothing. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to make a sign that says we’re filming, and someone’s going to hold it.”

“We don’t have any extra hands, River,” Jessie started to protest. “And it’s way too windy to lean a sign against something.”

“Oh, we have extra hands.” She didn’t fight the curve on her lips. “Easton, did you still want to help? Because I have the perfect job for you.”

Chapter 2

Sometimes River Lane felt as fake as her name.

She’d changed her given name to River the day she’d signed with her talent agency, and in the ten years since then, she’d never regretted it. The girl she’d once been had kicked the mud off her cowboy boots every evening. The woman she was now still wore boots, but the mud was more often slathered on her face than the backside of a barrel racer tossed on the first barrel.