“Ghost cabin,” I laugh, and the camera clicks.
He shows me the photo. We both look genuinely happy, and something about seeing us together like that —smiling and comfortable, as if we belong together —makes my heart skip a beat.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was falling for him. The thought should terrify me. Instead, looking at this photo of us together, it feels right.
“I think we should head back if you don’t want to miss work,” he says, sounding disappointed.
We pack up slowly, neither of us eager to leave this peaceful spot. As we head back to the main trail, the clouds have thickened enough to cast everything in a soft, golden light.
The walk back feels different than the hike out. We walk closer together, and when Sawyer occasionally touches my shoulder to point out a bird or an interesting tree, I don’t tense up. Instead, each gentle contact sends a warmth through my body, and I find myself hoping he’ll do it again.
“Thank you,” I say as we reach the trailhead again. “This was exactly what I needed.” I look back toward the lake, already missing the peace of it. “I might do this again.”
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I can be outdoorsy too.”
“I never doubted it for a second,” he says. “Well, it was a pleasure. I’ll see you tonight for our study session.”
“I can’t wait.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and heat floods my cheeks.
Sawyer gives me the sweetest, softest smile I’ve ever seen on him. “Me too, Reese. Me too.”
Chapter Nine
Sawyer
I’m relieved. Turns out I can be redeemed after all. Reese doesn’t hate me for acting like an idiot the other day. In fact, she’s still on board to tutor me. Which is great because my ranger exam is coming up soon, and I’m falling behind.
I swing by the Hartley Peak Adventures base to grab trail maps for the sunrise group hike I’m leading tomorrow. I also need to sneak in a quick shower. Going home would eat up too much time, and I’d rather not show up late to our tutoring session, especially not after how amazing our hike was this morning. That’s the kind of magic I don’t want to ruin.
The place is quiet except for the faint hum of a kettle and the smell of damp socks and overworked gear. I barely get three steps inside before I hear Knox’s voice, one of my colleagues slash hiking guides.
“Shower’s broken again,” Knox calls out from the breakroom without even looking up. “Unless you enjoy water pressure like a leaky faucet and temperatures ranging from glacial to molten lava.”
I glance down at the dried mud on my calves and the faint sheen of sweat clinging to my neck. Great. Exactly the vibe you want to bring to your tutoring session with the woman you’ve started to grow fond of.
“I’ll risk it,” I call back, already heading for the locker room.
Knox pokes his head out, brows raised. “You’re voluntarily showering inthatthing? You must smell really bad.”
“I’ve got a tutoring session with Reese. Figured I shouldn’t show up looking and smelling like this,” I say over my shoulder.
“Oh, I get it. You want to look good for your date.”
I turn around and laugh like it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “It’s not a date.”
“Sure, Sawyer. Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. All I know is that most guys wouldn’t brave third-degree burns to smell good for a history lesson.”
I don’t answer, just grunt, mostly because he’s right. Iambraving third-degree burns for a history lesson. Or rather, for the person giving the lesson.
The shower is exactly as miserable as advertised. Part freezing drizzle, part volcanic splash zone, but I manage to get clean and change into a fresh T-shirt and jeans. I even put on socks that match. I catch my reflection in the fogged-up mirror and scrub a hand through my hair, trying to get it to cooperate.
“Not a date,” I remind myself. “So stop messing with your hair, man.”
Still, I’m out the door mere minutes later, smelling like sandalwood bodywash and with hair that looks decent for once.