Page 36 of A Class of Her Own

He glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows raised. “Wait. It’s going to actually be used for something? Are you hanging things on it? Or . . .”

I shrugged, super casually, and joined him in the scrap area to see if I could find small pieces of wood that could be used as rungs. “Yeah, I’m still figuring out the details.”

“So, you simply woke up this morning, with the sun, and thought,I’ll build a tiny ladder?” Now he was sounding a little put out.

I opened my mouth, sighed, and pinched my lips. “Not exactly.” Would he make fun of me for rescuing skunks?

“You’re being sketchy.”

I smiled. “Something you should be used to by now.”’

He tugged out two boards that were around the length and width I’d pictured in my head. “These work?”

“Yeah.” I snagged them out of his hands and headed toward my trunk. “Now I either need another one to cut into rungs or other scraps to create them out of.”

“How many rungs do you need?” he called.

I deposited the poles in my trunk and went back into the garage. This part I wasn’t sure about.

“Um, let’s pretend I was building this for Betty. How far do you think her cat legs can reach between rungs?”

He stopped looking around the pile and stood straight, hands on hips. “Is this for Betty?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m using her as a hypothetical measurement tool.”

“For planning out rung distance? That’s a very specific hypothetical tool.”

I licked my lips and then clamped down, biting them together and offering nothing more than a nod. He folded his arms. We locked eyes, and I recognized that he was going to want some answers before this continued. Most people’s advice would be to dispose of a skunk, but I was not in the business of disposing of creatures, nor did I want to be. I wanted them to live out their lives with zero interference from me.

Only, something strange happened the longer we watched each other. I started to think about the face I was looking at. His eyes really were very interesting. Kind of like dark chocolate with milk chocolate swirl. His face was the kind I’d never call boring. Eyebrows I’d once made fun of were now expressive as they moved into various positions, and I watched him go from curious to annoyed to worried and cycle back again. His mouth was . . .

Oh, this had to stop. Flutters were starting for the third time that morning, and, no. Just, no.

So, I blurted out, “I’m building a skunk ladder,” followed by swallowing and putting a hand over my mouth.

At first his expression was caught off guard, but laugh lines began to form around his eyes and then move to his mouth. “Liar.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my own arms. “I’m not lying. I watched one cross my yard and fall under my sunken trampoline this morning. I did a ton of research, and a ladder is the only way to get him out. So, I’m building one.”

A smile broke out on his face, and he leaned back over the scrap pile. “I’m impressed. Not many people would try to rescue it.” His tone was warm and complimentary, and I wanted to smile back at him until he said, “There’s no way you’re building this without me.”

“Yes, without you.”

He didn’t bother looking back at me as he plucked a few blocks from the floor. “I know you can, but I’m too interested in how this is going to play out. Go grab those poles you put in your car. We can build it here really easily. My garage is set up for it.”

I didn’t immediately move to do what he asked, mostly because I didn’t want to share this with him, and he was totally butting in. However, I could see the logic in having a helping hand, and he definitely had all the tools and space that I was lacking. So, with a loud huff to make sure he knew I wasn’t happy about it, I retrieved the two long pieces from my car and brought them back into the garage.

He had moved to the work bench, and, as I came through the doors, he reached up and hit the button to close them. Then he flicked on lights and a space heater to keep us warm while we worked. I scooted close to the heater, putting some space between us as he took the posts and laid them across the table. While I watched him get things prepared, I thought about Ruby telling me that not all creative, woodworking men were deadbeats. I tried not to think about the countless hours I’d sat in a workshop and wished my dad would acknowledge I was there. Brooks was talking to me and bustling about, not checked out and wary of my company.

“Tell me how you came to the conclusion that a skunk ladder was the way to go,” he said.

I could hear the amusement in his tone, but it didn’t feel like he was making fun of me, only that he found the situation itself funny. I relaxed when it became apparent that no mocking was going to happen. As I told him about my research and reasoning, he laid out the smaller blocks between the poles and adjusted them a few times while asking follow-up questions about my thought process. It was, by far, the most laid-back interaction we’d ever had. When he was done I stepped closer to see the layout.

“That’s too far apart,” I said thoughtfully.

“Betty could make that distance,” he argued. “I’ve seen cats stretch out.”

“Yes, but we’re not talking about a cat. We’re talking about a skunk. Do they stretch? Do they have short legs? What’s hidden under that fur?”

---