Both Easton and Ben were tired from their much longer day. Being used to the altitude didn’t mean exertion in lower oxygen didn’t get to them. After a quick hot meal, both crashed out in their tents. And if River ended up snuggled next to Easton’s side, sleeping beneath the heavy, reassuring weight of his muscled arm, that was purely for logistical reasons. He was warm. She was cold. See? It made total sense.

The marmot threw an absolute fit at being left out in the cold, but River knew there was a perfectly warm dining tent where the marmot was more than welcome. She felt bad about the ousting, but the marmot was getting aggressive in its determination to win Easton as its mate. River refused to get bitten out of jealousy, especially when the fluffy adorable thing had started getting a murderous look in its eyes every time Easton stepped anywhere close to River.

“This is the first time I’ve woken up in days without a marmot butt in my face,” Easton told her when he woke up a few hours later. It was early morning, and River could have stayed asleep a few more hours easily. Well, if the marmot wasn’t still crying its heart out at being ousted from the tent.

She yawned. “By the looks I was getting when I zipped up the tent, I may have started a war.”

His low rumble was even better with his arms around her. Easton could have started the whole kissing thing again. River was totally on board for that. Instead, he wanted to look at her feet.

It was River’s fault, really. Mentioning to Easton about Jessie’s feet had triggered a desire in him to poke and prod at all her extremities, which was far less sexy than it could have been, given different circumstances. It was hard to flirt, so they talked instead. Easton was much better at kissing than small talk, but River appreciated his strong hands massaging her feet so pleasantly.

“So you’ve never seen one of my movies.”

Easton pulled River’s foot into his lap. “You sound relieved.”

“Well, let’s say it’s nice meeting someone who doesn’t connect me to my roles.”

“I’m not a big movie guy,” Easton admitted, rolling down her sock. “All your toes look good. Can you feel my fingers?”

He squeezed each of her toes one by one. Nodding, River yelped when he ran a fingernail playfully along the underside of her arch, tickling her. “Hey.”

“You’re ticklish.”

“I’m too ticklish. As in don’t do it, or risk the consequences. I’m not responsible for any flailing that may or may not occur. I once accidentally tossed a boyfriend who thought it was funny to tickle me headfirst through a desk drawer.”

“Ouch.”

“I flail,” River reminded him because she could see his thumb twitch. “Don’t do it.”

“You realize it only makes it more tempting, right?”

“You’re kind of an adrenaline junkie, aren’t you?”