The next morning, the marmot broke up with Easton. Its little marmot bags were packed. It was moving on. Sometimes, love wasn’t enough, not when you deserved better. And clearly, the marmot knew it deserved better.

Getting relocated out of the tent for River must have been the straw that broke the love story’s back.

Never had River witnessed anything as funny as Easton standing there, getting chirped and barked at, until the marmot had bit the side of his boot in dismissal while he apologized to its furry backside. Ben tried to be supportive, telling Easton it would be okay, but it was all River could do not to laugh hysterically as the marmot headed back down the mountain, toward the tree line and someone who would meet its needs. Bree and Jessie didn’t even try to cover their sheer glee.

And did they get the marmot leaving him on camera? Every single minute of it.

After being dumped and left high and dry on the mountainside, an embarrassed Easton ordered them to break camp, then head back through the Veil, this time with the added burden of the extra weight on their backs. Above the geological feature was nothing but a steep ascent of ice and snow, with the occasional exposed outcrop to break up the landscape. They made camp beneath one of those outcrops, which did little to keep the steady—if quieter—wind off their tents.

Yes, the view was amazing, and yes, they were getting great shots. But River was ready to get to the top already. The summit hung tantalizingly above their heads, but Easton was insisting they stay at camp for another day to get used to the altitude.

It was the relentless cold as much as the man bun that encouraged River to ditch her tent. River wasn’t the move-in-with-a-guy-on-the-first-mountain type of woman, but she was willing to make exceptions.

The man was so warm.

“I thought you wanted to keep things professional on your worksite,” Easton murmured as River wriggled closer to him. She hadn’t bothered to hide from everyone that she had no intention of sleeping cold and alone when a perfectly furry mountaineer was handy in the tent next to hers.

“I didn’t want Ben making googly eyes at Bree and annoying her,” River replied with a yawn. “She told me she’s not interested in romantic encounters with someone who hasn’t bathed in over a week.”

Easton’s lips curved against her ear. “But you are?”

“Mmm. I’m considering it.”

His hand was warm despite the cold, thin air, and his body was even warmer. The sheer amount of heat this man radiated made her want to plaster herself all over him. And maybe she wasn’t at her best, but the way he was looking at her made River want to plaster herself all over him for far less practical reasons.