“You better. We start tomorrow morning at six thirty. I’ll meet you here. Oh, and bring snacks, preferably cinnamon rolls from Summit Sweets.”
“Are they even open that early?” I ask with a frown. I’m pretty sure Amelia’s shop is closed at that hour. I know since I often pass it on my way to a morning hike on Mount Hartley.
“I guess you’ll have to get inventive, Sawyer.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Wow, you’re going to make me suffer through this whole tutoring thing, aren’t you?”
“You’re the one who wants to pass his ranger exam and said he’d do anything. Besides, consider the cinnamon rolls payback for when you broke that display, despite the big Do Not Touch sign staring you in the face.”
It finally dawns on me that she’s still angry over that. I came in here with a group of hikers looking to buy some bear-shaped souvenirs after we spotted one on the hike down from Mount Hartley. Reese told me how hard she’d worked on a new exhibit, and I ruined it thanks to my way-too-big hands. I was nervous because I like Reese, okay? So I was being extra clumsy that day, with her standing so close that I could smell her floral shampoo. Anyway, she sure loves to hold grudges if she’s still mad about that.
“That was two years ago, Reese. You still haven’t forgiven me?”
She shrugs. “You haven’t suffered enough, Sawyer. I worked really hard on that exhibition, and you didn’t do anything to try to fix it. Besides, that day was supposed to be amazing, and you ruined it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind.” She brushes it off, but I can tell there’s more to it.
I raise my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, Reese. I truly am.”
“You should be. You ruined things for me that day.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind,” she repeats.
I’m not letting it go this time. “I want to know.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s too late to do anything about it, okay?Historic Gems Quarterlywas going to drop by and write an article about mountain climbing history. They were going tofeature pictures of my exhibit. But then you… Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”
A pang of hurt slices through me. I had no idea about the article. No wonder she’s been treating me like the enemy. I ruined something important to her.
“I’ll make things right. I promise,” I tell her.
“Whatever. See you tomorrow, Sawyer.” She walks away and starts tidying the map rack, making it clear the conversation is over for her.
I head to the door, taking the hint, but not before making one last promise. “I’ll be here at six thirty. With clean shoes and a bag full of cinnamon rolls.”
She doesn’t reply, but I catch a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as I walk out the door.
Chapter Three
Reese
I arrive at the visitor center twenty minutes early. I fumble with my keys in the dim morning light and wonder what exactly I’ve gotten myself into. Then I remind myself that Sawyer promised to help me fix the shelves for the botanical pressings in the Natural History exhibit. I might have to suffer through a few tutoring sessions with him, but it’ll be worth it in the end.
The real challenge is getting through those tutoring sessions with my sanity intact. I pray Sawyer won’t be his annoying self today. Maybe he’ll finally sit back and listen to me for once. I snort at the idea because what are the chances of that happening?
The lock of the visitor center cooperates on the first try today. Apparently, even inanimate objects can sense my stress and decide to give me a break for once. I head inside and flip on the lights. Sawyer will be here soon, ready to learn all about local history, and I’ll have to pretend like spending one-on-one time with him doesn’t do weird things to my blood pressure. It’s like my body and mind are on completely different wavelengths with the way my heart hammers whenever I think about Sawyer.
Sure, he looks amazing, but he’s also annoying.
Right?
I set my bag down behind the counter and pull out the materials I spent way too much time organizing last night. Maps of the region from different time periods, photocopies of newspaper clippings about the Gold Rush, a timeline I made of significant events, and my personal favorite: a detailed breakdown of the Native American tribes that lived in this area before European settlement.
As I spread everything across an empty table, I can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement about getting to teach this stuff, even if it’s to Sawyer. History isn’t just dates and names to me. It’s stories about real people who lived, loved, and struggled in these same mountains we now live, love, and struggle in. If Sawyer pays attention, he might discover that local history is way more fascinating than he thought. Of course, that’s assuming he can focus on something other than finding ways to irritate me.