I shrug. “I’m telling you that the mineral content is perfectly normal for mountain spring water, but people wanted to believe it was special. Sometimes, belief is more powerful than facts.”

“Spoken like a true historian with no tolerance for whimsical stuff.”

His voice is warm as he says it, and my cheeks heat. This is dangerous territory, with Sawyer being charming, attentive, and genuinely interested in the things I care about.

“No, spoken like someone who drinks tap water and survives,” I retort before my flushed cheeks give away that I’m not finding him as annoying as usual today.

I avert my eyes and clear my throat, reaching for another section of materials. “We should probably move on to the wildlife history. That’ll definitely be on your exam.”

I pause, suddenly realizing how much we still need to cover. “Actually, you know what? This historical stuff is just the beginning. We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover. Fire management, Leave No Trace principles, SAR protocols, forest regulations…” I trail off. “It’s a lot. Are you still up for it, Sawyer?” I try to keep my voice neutral, like I don’t care if he says yes or no, but a tiny part of me holds its breath while I wait for his answer. Spending more time with Sawyer wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He leans back in his chair with a grin. “Absolutely. I’m in this. All the way to the fancy Latin plant names you’ll undoubtedly throw at me later.”

I smirk at him. “Botany might break you.”

He winks, and it’s a good thing I’m sitting down because my legs start shaking. “Worth the risk, Reese.”

Chapter Four

Sawyer

I never thought I’d say this—and I mean never, like not in a million cinnamon-roll-fueled years—but I’m enjoying learning about Montana’s history.

Okay,enjoyingmight be a stretch, but I’m not actively trying to escape through the nearest window during our study sessions, which is more than I could say back in high school. Of course, it might have alittlesomething to do with the woman teaching me.

Reese is smart. Sharp. Ridiculously passionate about the weirdest stuff. And don’t even get me started on the way her eyes light up when she’s mid-rant about treaty violations or the layout of 1800s pack mule routes. I didn’t even know pack mule routes were a thing, but I’ve now heard the phrase ‘logistical chokepoints of frontier commerce’ more times than I’ve heard my own name this week.

And I’d kind of like to keep hearing it. At least, when it’s coming from her. I doubt anyone else could make historical infrastructure sound this attractive and entertaining.

I’ve religiously been going over my study notes at night, trying to remember facts so I can impress her the next day. I even bought a highlighter. Yes, a highlighter. If my high school teachers could see me now, they’d be so surprised that their eyebrows would rocket into their hairlines and never come back.

Of course, it’s kind of a shame we’re always cooped up in here. I’m more of a hands-on guy, and while I appreciate the crash course in gold rush trivia and treaty drama, I’ve got this itch to get outside. I’m a hiking guide after all. I flourish when I’m in the woods and summiting mountains. Maybe it’s time for her to see that outdoorsy part of me. It could make her understand why my boots are always muddy. I don’t do it to taunt her. It’s nature’s fault, really.

So I get this idea. It hits me while she’s explaining the economic impact of gold prospectors

“Hey,” I say, interrupting her mid-sentence. “You ever hiked up to Tramline Ridge?”

Reese blinks, clearly thrown off her groove. “Um, no. Should I have?”

I shrug. “Maybe. Depends if you like breathtaking views, secret wildflower meadows, and a stretch of rusted-out tram cables from the 1870s sitting up there like history forgot about them.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Wait, really?”

“Yep. One of the old mining companies ran ore down from the summit. The cables are still strung through parts of the forest. Most people don’t even know they’re up there.” I lean back in my chair. “Could be a good ‘in the field’ history lesson. You know, for a change of pace. Put that brain of yours to use in the wild. Enjoy the great outdoors while still exploring history. It’s a win-win.”

She narrows her eyes. “So, let me get this straight. You’re suggesting I hike a literal mountain to see some rusty cables?”

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds weird.” I flash her a grin. “But yeah. That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

She stares at me for a beat longer than necessary. “I don’t know, Sawyer. I’m not an outdoorsy person.”

“Come on, this is Maplewood Springs. People come here from all over the country to enjoy all the gorgeous nature our town hasto offer. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you don’t even own a pair of hiking boots,” I joke, but by the look on her face, I hit a little too close to the mark.

“I don’t have hiking boots,” she says, her cheeks turning pink in an adorable way that makes my heart skip a beat. “Hiking is not my thing.”

“Hiking is not your thing?” I ask in an incredulous voice.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Don’t sound so surprised, Sawyer. Not all of us were born with a compass embedded in our DNA and a topographical map burned into our retinas.”