One of the things she’d been warned of early in her career was that above all else, she needed to be pleasant. Don’t make waves. Don’t push back. And maybe at first, she’d gone along with it because she was new to LA, broke and scared. Hungry for more than only her dream of being an actress, River had been living off discount peanut butter and stale bread, sleeping in her car, and praying she didn’t have to tuck tail and crawl back home defeated. She’d needed the work, so she’d followed that advice.

One of the things she had finally learned in the industry was her most important lesson yet. Pleasant was code for pushover.

Screw. That.

She’d had her fair share of battles with the press, and while some reporter with an agenda to push was not even on her radar of what affected her, Tasha crossed the line when she went after Easton. He was the only one in this town who’d tried to help them, and trying to make him feel bad for taking her and the crew to Mount Veil was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

And boy, taking the reporter to task had been exactly what she needed.

Two coffees in hand, River nearly bounced as she crossed the street to the park where she’d left the rental SUV. A familiar faded red truck was parked next to her. Leaning against the tailgate, Easton Lockett was a sight for sore eyes.

“Should I make sure Tasha still has a pulse?” he asked.

“I probably shouldn’t have been so tough on her,” River said. “But she was mean to you, and you’re very good-looking.”

The beard twitched. If he was smiling under there, it was impossible to tell, but her gut said his lips were doing something.

“Do I need to call for Jonah again?”

River laughed, leaning back against the tailgate next to him. “You realize you’ve been threatening me with the cops since the minute we met. I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”

“I’m going into the bush with you.” Arms folded loose across his chest, it was hard not to notice biceps the size of his, right at her eye level. “If I didn’t trust you, I’d never step foot above ten thousand feet with you.”

“What about below ten thousand feet?” she asked.

“I can hold my own closer to sea level.” He gazed down at her, adding mischievously, “But canceling on you might be even scarier.”

“Oh, trust me, it would be.” River handed him the second coffee. “Here, I brought you a refill. Least I can do for making you the talk of the town.”

“Not a big deal.” Even with the beard, River could see him choke on his first sip of coffee. “Damn, woman. What did you put in here?”