Maybe it was the fact that with each grip, each movement, she knew that some progress had been made. A set goal was clearly achieved. Unless she fell. And even falling—as much as it hurt—was better than standing still, doing nothing.

At least River would know she’d tried.

The parking lot turnoff was still in sight, if barely, by the time River found what she was looking for. It was only a roadcut, but the rock face was smooth and slick, a challenge worth tackling. The cold, hard granite beneath her fingertips had yet to weather into the soft, crumbling surface that left so many roadcuts too dangerous for climbing. This road was new, probably cut into the mountainside to build a backroad access to the resort during construction. River had done her research and knew the Moose Springs Resort had been around for almost twenty-five years.

Twenty-five years young…younger than her.

“Hollywood is the only place where almost thirty makes someone feel old,” River grumbled to herself, kicking off her shoes and socks. “And I am so over it.”

Ever since River had started actively climbing—about the time she realized that calming activities like yoga or meditation were not her thing—she’d started carrying a pair of tight climbing shoes and a bag of chalk with her when she went places. She never knew when a chance to climb would come up, even if it was only pulling off the side of the road or playing around on some boulders between film shoots. Unfortunately, she’d left both shoes and chalk with the rest of her gear, and there was no way she was returning and risking waking her crew. Early morning or not, if they knew what River had planned, they’d insist on filming her. But right now, there was no one watching. No cameras turned on her, no expression forced on her face. Just the rock.

A challenge, only for her.

Free-climbing wasn’t as safe as climbing with a harness and ropes, and she was taking a risk by not using chalk for her hands. It was the chalk more than the shoes that made her pause.

“You have no business on Mount Veil if you can’t handle a twenty-foot roadcut,” River reminded herself, setting her fingers into the first hold.

There had been a moment on her first solo climb when every muscle in her body had reacted in fear, freezing up. The result was her instructor having to talk her down and a solid twenty minutes of shaking like a leaf when her feet finally found the ground. River never forgot that feeling. Each time she started a climb, easy or tough, she remembered that fear, embracing it and using it to drive her upward.