He’d never seen her in one of her roles, but Easton had a good idea of how much of a professional River was. When it was time for her shots at the end of the day’s climb, no matter how tired she was, she always helped her crew set up the equipment, find the right spot to film, and would only disappear in her tent for the briefest time to fix her hair for the scene. Then she would emerge with her acting face on, a calm and relaxed set to her features that could shift into whatever was required of her.

They even had a script for her, although Easton had no idea who had put it together or when. He would have noticed if one of his clients had been trying to hike with pen and paper in hand.

“We’re finished with today’s climb,” River told the camera, glancing at the mountainscape around them. The day’s journey had taken them higher above the tree line, and all around was snow and ice, dotted with the occasional dark boulder or the snow-free underside of an outcropping.

More than once over the last couple of days, Easton had found himself watching her drink in the scenery instead of paying attention to where he was stepping. Not the wisest choice, but his eyes kept drifting back despite his efforts to keep them on the path he led them on. Now that they were at a higher elevation, being distracted was even more dangerous. The marmot had stuck close, taking up residence outside Easton’s tent and insisting on watching him with the same intentness Easton had been watching River with.

All in all, it was one of the more uncomfortable unrequited love triangles Easton had been involved in.

“It’s stunningly beautiful up here above the tree line,” River continued. “I’ve been on top of a mountain before, but nothing like this. Nothing like Mount Veil. I can’t wait to get higher and see what it has to offer.”

She paused as if to gather her thoughts.

“Our guide calls it the Old Man. When you’re down in Moose Springs, the mountain kind of looks like a hunched-over man with his head bowed. Almost like he’s bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. But up here, the Old Man—”

River drifted off, and unlike the last pause, this one wasn’t scripted.

“You can hear him creaking and groaning beneath you. Easton, is that the glacier beneath us we’re hearing?”

Not used to being addressed when she was filming her interviews, Easton nodded. Immediately, the second camera was turned his way.

“Say it out loud,” Jessie stage-whispered.

Glaring at him didn’t do a thing, so Easton gave in. “It’s the movement of the glacier. We’re climbing a river of ice, one that moves slowly.”