“I’m the producer. I know when the scene is getting screwed up.”

“Coproducer, unless I end up quitting,” Jessie countered. She was so used to his dramatics, River didn’t even blink at the threat. “While you tried and failed to walk down a road, I tried and failed to get someone from city hall to answer the phone about our nonexistent permits. I gave up. No one is going to answer. If I can’t get copies through email, we’ll have to go down there.”

“Fine, Jessie. I’ll add it to the list.”

“Top of the list.” Bree, her audio specialist, jumped out of the SUV, laptop in hand. “I can’t film in town without them.”

“We can’t film.” Jessie sighed. “Really, ladies, I’m more than happy to be outnumbered, but I do exist.”

“Do you though?” Bree arched an eyebrow at Jessie, then snickered at the annoyed expression on his face.

Jessie’s hair was always messy, and he was very pale, as if he’d rolled off the couch in his grandmother’s basement to emerge in the actual sunlight, when in actuality, he preferred to spend all his spare time outdoors like Bree and River did. Their mutual love of hiking and rock climbing had bonded the three beyond the usual professional camaraderie in their industry. Fair skinned to an extreme, even a little sun left Jessie sunburned and peeling. That fair skin had been an issue on every single movie they’d worked on together, to the point that River knew more about Jessie’s skin care regimen than her own.

But man…was he talented. River couldn’t have asked for a better cameraman and coproducer, even if he was difficult to work with sometimes. Jessie’s attitude had gotten him on the wrong side of the wrong director, and like River, his job options were quickly shrinking. And as good as Jessie was, Bree was absolutely invaluable to River.

South Asian with a degree in film studies, Bree was beautiful enough to be on the opposite end of the camera she was so good at using, but she was also one of the best in the business at sound. The only reason River had managed to steal her from a big budget job was Bree’s love of being outdoors. The call of Alaska had been enough to get her to come along. For River, this documentary was the most important thing to happen to her career-wise since she’d landed her first acting role. For Bree, it was a paid vacation.

A car edged around their vehicles, the driver giving everyone a dirty look. River’s impromptu chauffeur frowned. The beard hid a lot of his facial expressions, but his voice was clearly unhappy with the parking situation.

“Where are we on moving your vehicle?”

Bree gave him a considering look before turning to River. “I know you’re juggling a lot of jobs right now, but we can’t get a good take if you get yourself kidnapped. A true crime documentary wasn’t the plan.”

The man with the truck raised his hand. “Technically, I think she kidnapped me.”

“Who is that?” Jessie asked, pointing at her new bearded acquaintance. “He looks like an ax murderer.”

The pair looked at River expectantly. River shrugged. “I literally have no idea.”

They all turned to him, the massive stranger standing there, looking more awkward than she’d ever seen anyone appear in her life.

“Easton Lockett,” he grunted by way of introduction.

“You got in a car with him and you didn’t know who he was?” Jessie groaned. “People die that way.”

Bree snickered. “Why are we so concerned about her? He’s the one who looks like he needs a stiff drink.”

“My morning has been more interesting than I expected,” Easton told them.

Jessie nodded in understanding. “Actresses, right? Total drama queens.”

“Excuse me?” River turned on Jessie. “I’m not the one causing the drama.”

“No, you’re just picking up strays on the highway like puppies.”

They started arguing about who was the bigger pain in the ass, and River would have won if not for Easton interrupting by clearing his throat.

“I’d like to help get you out of here. Any way we could move this along?”

They all stared at him—understandably. The man was a mountain. Bree’s head tilted to the side. “You look like Hagrid. A sexy, muscly Hagrid.”

The poor man actually cringed. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to leave.”

“No, wait a minute.” River rubbed the bridge of her nose to ease the stress headache headed her way. “Listen, we need to get this footage for the intro to our documentary. I didn’t waste half the day for nothing. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to make a sign that says we’re filming, and someone’s going to hold it.”

“We don’t have any extra hands, River,” Jessie started to protest. “And it’s way too windy to lean a sign against something.”

“Oh, we have extra hands.” She didn’t fight the curve on her lips. “Easton, did you still want to help? Because I have the perfect job for you.”

Chapter 2

   Sometimes River Lane felt as fake as her name.

She’d changed her given name to River the day she’d signed with her talent agency, and in the ten years since then, she’d never regretted it. The girl she’d once been had kicked the mud off her cowboy boots every evening. The woman she was now still wore boots, but the mud was more often slathered on her face than the backside of a barrel racer tossed on the first barrel.

You’d think at some point she’d be used to ending up on the ground.

The call came in as River started her first trek down the stretch of highway they were filming on. Easton was a few miles down the road, and whatever he was doing back there was working. Two cars had gone past already, and other than slowing down for safety—and to gawk—no one had stopped.

“This is River,” she answered through her headset, glancing at the Anchorage number on her phone.

“River, it’s Mischa. We need to talk.”

“Usually that means someone’s about to break up with me.” River hoped her pleasant, joking tone would carry over to the woman on the other end of the line. Mischa was their contact for the Alaskan Tourism Board.

The job had seemed so cut and dried over the phone. But in the last couple of days, more doors had literally been shut in her face than River had ever experienced in her life. She had a mark on her nose to prove it.

“I’ve gotten a few complaint calls from the hotel manager at Moose Springs Resort.” Mischa sighed, sounding tired. “They said you’ve been filming there without permission?”