The look she gives me could freeze molten lava. “You’re kidding me. And you don’t have a backup phone or one of those devices you always carry around?”

“You mean a PBL?”

“A what?”

“A personal beacon locator.”

She balls her hands into fists. “I don’t care what it’s called. PB&J. You know what I mean,” she shrieks, her voice two octaves higher than usual.

“I’m not in possession of either of those things.” I hold my hands in the air, afraid she might lunge at me. Or worse, chuck one of those scary-looking dead animals at my head.

“So you’re telling me that not only are we locked in here because I’m an idiot who forgot about the security system, but you also don’t have a functioning phone?” Her voice rises even higher with each word. “What kind of hiking guide doesn’t have a working phone?”

“The kind whose phone committed suicide by drowning,” I mutter, then immediately regret it when her glare intensifies. “What about your phone?”

She pats her pockets, then looks around the storage room with growing panic. “It’s on my desk. Out there.”

We stare at each other in the dim light filtering through a small window near the ceiling.

“Well,” I say finally. “This is awkward. One thing’s for sure, though. You can’t ever accuse me of not bringing adventure with me wherever I go.”

“I’m going to kill you, Sawyer.”

Chapter Ten

Reese

I’m going to murder him.

Not literally, obviously. Though the thought is becoming increasingly appealing as I stand in a storage room full of dead animals, staring at Sawyer like he’s personally responsible for ruining my entire evening. Which, I know, isn’t exactly fair to him. It’s not his fault that I forgot about the security system after closing hours. Although if he weren’t so clumsy, he wouldn’t have dropped his phone into a beaver pond, and we’d be rescued right now.

I sink onto a dusty crate labeled “Gold Rush Display” and drop my head in my hands. This was supposed to be a simple tutoring session. Cover wildlife management protocols, maybe quiz him on territorial mining laws, and go home. You know, to the place where I have a perfectly good bed waiting for me.

Instead, I’m trapped in what feels like a low-budget horror movie set, surrounded by glassy-eyed creatures that seem to be judging my life choices. The mountain goat in the corner looks particularly smug about the whole situation. And that’s not even mentioning the hard concrete floor I’ll be forced to sleep on tonight. Ugh.

“So,” Sawyer says after what feels like an eternity of silence. He’s leaning against a shelf of bird specimens, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “This is happening.”

I don’t look up. “Congratulations, Sherlock. Your powers of observation are truly remarkable.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask to get locked in here either.”

“No, but you’re the one who—” I stop myself before I can finish that sentence. It wasn’t really his fault. The security system locking us in was my oversight, not his. But I’m too frustrated and embarrassed to admit that right now.

The silence stretches between us again. Somewhere outside, I can hear the faint hum of traffic on Main Street. Regular people, going about their regular evening routines, completely unaware that I’m sitting in a storage room having what might generously be called a mental breakdown.

“You know,” Sawyer says quietly, “I’ve been in worse situations.”

Despite myself, I look up. “Worse than being trapped overnight with a bunch of dead animals?”

“Well, there was that time I got stuck in a tree for six hours because a particularly aggressive moose decided to make camp underneath it.”

I blink at him. “That actually happened?”

“Scout’s honor.” He raises two fingers. “Though I was never actually a Boy Scout, so that probably doesn’t count for much.”

And despite everything, despite being locked in this creepy room, despite my phone being unreachable, despite the fact that my evening has gone completely off the rails, the corners of my mouth twitch upward. Even in situations as crappy as these, Sawyer still knows how to make me feel better.

“Okay,” I say, standing and brushing dust off my jeans. “If we’re going to be stuck here until morning, we might as well make the best of it.”