I eye him for a long beat. Then sigh. “Fine, but if you forget the cinnamon rolls, I’m turning back at the trailhead.”
He grins. “Deal.”
“You’re in luck. The Visitor Center doesn’t open until ten on Thursdays. But I do need to be back by then. Can’t miss work for… well, you.”
“Done. I live to please, Reese.” He raps his knuckles on the counter. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Prepare to get your mind blown.”
With those words, he heads to the door. As it swings shut behind him, I shake my head and try to hide my smile. Because somehow, against all odds and basic logic, I’m looking forward to spending the evening with him.
Which can only mean one thing: I’ve officially and completely lost my mind.
Chapter Eight
Reese
“This is more like it,” I say, adjusting my backpack straps as we approach the trailhead of The Lakeside Loop.
The trail stretches ahead of us with not a cliff in sight. There’s a reason I always suggest this hike to tourists asking about beginner trails. I’m not even wearing hiking boots this time. Maple Outfitters isn’t open at this time of day, and I don’t think I need them for this flat trail. Besides, I didn’t need another conversation involving blisters and expanding feet.
Sawyer grins, shouldering his pack with practiced ease. “No death-defying ledges this time. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you a Scout?”
He nods, pride shining in his eyes. “Eagle Scout, thank you very much. I can tie seventeen different knots and identify edible plants.”
“Show-off.”
The morning air is crisp but not cold, with that perfect late spring feel that makes you want to take deep breaths just because you can. I pull out my phone and snap a photo of the trailhead sign, surprising myself with the impulse to get this on camera.
“Getting into the spirit already?” Sawyer asks, something warm in his voice that makes my stomach flutter.
“Maybe,” I admit, tucking the phone back into my pocket.
The trail is everything he promised. A gentle dirt path that winds through pine trees toward the lake. No steep inclines, no narrow ridges, just peaceful forest that gradually opens up to reveal glimpses of blue water through the branches.
For the first time ever, I’m not calculating escape routes or wondering how far the nearest hospital is. I’m enjoying this.
“Wow,” I breathe when we emerge at the lake’s edge.
It’s nothing short of stunning. A perfect oval of dark blue water surrounded by trees, with the mountains reflected on the surface like something out of a postcard.
Sawyer stops beside me, close enough that I can smell his soap. “Worth the early wake-up time?”
“Definitely.” I pull out my phone again and take pictures, trying to capture the way the light hits the water and the perfect reflection of the pine trees.
“You’re getting into this photography thing,” he observes.
“I’m documenting evidence that I went hiking. Voluntarily. Twice. Withyou.”
He laughs, and the sound echoes across the water. We walk along the shoreline, and I find myself looking around instead of staring at my feet, watching for roots and rocks. There are wildflowers I never would have noticed, like tiny purple ones clustered near fallen logs and bright yellow ones that look like miniature sunflowers.
“Those are lupines,” Sawyer says, noticing my attention. “And those yellow ones are arrow leaf balsamroot.”
“You really do know your plants.”
He shrugs. “You pick things up when you spend half your life outdoors.”
“So I don’t have to teach you about botany?”