He pays, and then I’m alone again, wallowing in my… What exactly? Sadness?
I slump in my chair. Fine, I’ll admit it. I’m sad, and I miss Sawyer. Even though he can be an idiot, he also has that special knack of making me laugh.
I glance at my phone again. The message still isn’t delivered. What if he never texts back? What if he blocked me because I was unreasonable? Or what if a bear ate him, and I’m sitting here stewing over a dead man who just wanted to pass his ranger exam?
I groan and drop my forehead onto the counter. I don’t have much time to wallow, though, because today seems to be a busy hiking day. Slews of tourists head in and out of the Visitor Center, buying maps, bear-shaped souvenirs, and desperately asking for directions to the nearest bathroom.
An hour before closing time, things finally slow down. I’m in the middle of restocking the map rack when the door chimes again.
“Hey, is this where I can find all those amazing historical exhibits, or am I in the wrong room?”
I jerk upright so fast I nearly bump my head on the map rack.
Sawyer is standing in the doorway. His hair is damp, probably from hiking, and his flannel shirt is tied around his waist. My gaze drops to the paper bag in his hands.
“I come bearing gifts and sincere groveling.”
He sets the bag on the counter and opens it to reveal two cinnamon rolls from Summit Sweets.
“I’m impressed, Sawyer.”
“I like my limbs intact,” he says with a shrug. “And I figured you might throw the bear statue at me if I didn’t show up with food.”
I bite back a smile as I take one and sink my teeth into the sugary swirl of happiness. It’s still warm. “You’re lucky this is my weakness.”
“I know,” he says, leaning on the counter across from me, watching me with an annoyingly sincere look. “I’m sorry about the other day, Reese. I never should’ve joked about the whole magazine thing. I still feel bad for ruining your chance to feature inHistoric Gems Quarterly. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
He stares at me with puppy eyes. Who can resist that? Not me, that’s for sure.
“Maybe. But first, explain why you’ve been avoiding my texts.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and shows me a flickering, waterlogged mess. “If you’ve been texting me, I haven’t received any of them. I was leading a group up Mount Hartley and dropped my phone in a beaver pond.”
I let out a small laugh. “A beaver pond?”
“What can I say? Never a dull moment when you’re a hiking guide.” He taps his fingers against the countertop. Then, he glances at me, like he’s about to ask me something he’s afraid to.
“So, uh.” He clears his throat. “Do you still want to… Would you still be up for tutoring me? I mean, assuming I haven’t totally burned that bridge. Please?”
“I guess. At least, that’s what I thought. I texted you about it, but you ignored me. Then, I started planning your funeral.”
He frowns. “My funeral?”
I nod. “Closed casket, obviously. I thought you got mauled by a bear. No one wants to see the result of something grueling as that.”
He raises an eyebrow and gestures to himself. “You were going to deny people a final glimpse of all this?”
“Oh, please. Don’t kid yourself,” I huff.
He laughs, then locks eyes with me, causing my stomach to do that annoying fluttering thing it sometimes does when he looks at me. “So, what do you say about penciling in a tutoring session, Reese?”
“Tomorrow after work,” I mutter.
“Thank you. I mean it. And I also want to ask you something else.”
I frown. “Go on.”
“I owe you a real hike. One without cliffs. Or emotional landmines. Just fresh air and something easy. A peace offering. Tomorrow morning. You in?”