“About as well as it worked for him on set.” Shrugging, River added, “I am who I am.”

“And that’s why we love you. So, who was the call?”

“Mischa. It’s not good news. Let’s get this last pass, and then I’ll tell you both.”

Without the constant interruption of stopping cars and the suitcase slowing her steps, River made quick work of the last pass along the highway. Plopping down on the rock she had tucked the suitcase behind, she waited for Bree and Jessie to pack up and meet her.

Rubbing the pressure points in her scalp to relieve tension, she glanced down the curving, mountainside highway. Somewhere down the road, a very attractive, very bearded man didn’t know they were done. River would have called Easton, but she hadn’t thought to get his number.

“Sorry, Easton,” she murmured. “You’ll have to wait until I get a ride.”

Now that the filming was done, River could finally take a moment and enjoy being there. The Turnagain Arm flowed past on the other side of the road, the rough waters breaking and crashing. They’d picked this stretch of highway for a reason. The next turn was more picturesque but had so much wind, it had been difficult to walk without leaning over. Here everything but the waters were calmer. She spied three mountain goats on the cliff above her head, and at least one fish gave up the ghost when a hungry eagle dove into the water.

Poor sucker never saw it coming.

Moose Springs, Alaska, was the farthest from home she’d ever been. The jet-setting lifestyle River had dreamed of as a child never quite panned out. She hadn’t seen the world. She’d seen the inside of a studio, then another, then more. She filmed on location, but most of those locations were in Los Angeles or Vancouver, and only once had her film career taken her to the East Coast. When people met her, they always assumed she had the world at her fingertips.

But River wasn’t a classic. She was a cliché.

Thinking about Easton was much more pleasant than worrying about the current state of her career. When the crew’s Subaru SUV pulled off the road across from her, River was deep in daydreams about scuffed boots and calloused hands. She joined her people, trying to decide the best way to break this to them.

“What’s the news?” Bree asked, leaning a hip against the car.

“The tourism board got wind of our incident with the bear yesterday. They’re dissolving the contract. Technically, they’re still willing to buy the documentary, but they don’t think we can pull it off.”

Bree and Jess shared looks. These two were her people, and River wasn’t going to railroad either of them into staying on the project if they weren’t interested.