“What did he say?” Bree pressed. “Up on the summit? We can’t get the audio.”

River’s fingers flexed at her side. “I can’t tell you. I don’t think it would be right.”

“But, River—”

“No.” Closing her eyes, River tried to compose herself. “Okay, you’re right. It was real. And now it’s gone. It’s done. What Easton and I had was one of the best things I’ve ever known in my life, and I won’t let you make this into some sort of sideshow. I can’t do this to him. Let’s stick to the original plan.”

Jessie wasn’t ready to give up the fight. “You realize the kind of film we’re looking at here could be huge, right? We could turn this over to the tourism board and cash a measly paycheck, or we could turn it into the documentary it deserves to be. This could turn your career around, River.”

“The answer is no. Trust me, if Easton were here, he’d agree with me.”

As she left the studio, River knew that whatever they’d had, it was going to stay on that mountain. She cared about him way too much to exploit him, even if it didn’t get them anywhere professionally.

And if it tanked her filming career before it even started? Well, that was a risk River was willing to take.

• • •

The problem with being in a small town was everyone knew when you’d gotten your heart broken. When he found out they’d even started a thread about him in the town chat room, labeling sad Easton sightings, he seriously considered going back out and finding the marmot. It understood his pain.

For a man as private as Easton, being the topic of interest particularly sucked.

It didn’t help that everywhere he went had been touched by her in some fashion. His house. Places around town. He couldn’t even turn on the highway without seeing her walking down it, suitcase of rocks in hand, those brilliant blue eyes challenging him for stopping to help. Even his favorite coffee shop had been ruined.

He couldn’t remember how she’d ordered her coffee that day they’d done the gear check. He’d gone for a cup after failing to successfully return to his routine without her. For some reason, Easton was so upset by his inability to recall the proper combination, he almost crushed the offending drink in his hand. Instead, he sat on a bench outside, looking at the park where she’d handed him the worst coffee he’d ever tasted.

Damn, he missed her.

“May I join you?”

Easton’s jaw twitched, but he kept his tone controlled. It wasn’t Tasha’s fault his heart was thousands of miles away. “I’m not commenting on the climb, Tasha. Or on River.”