Page 37 of A Class of Her Own

“Okay. Did you get a good look at it?”

I took out my phone and showed him the picture I’d snapped. “See. It’s pretty good sized.”

He grinned. “I can’t tell anything from that blurry picture. You should submit it to a gossip site and tell them Big Foot is living under your tramp.”

I pulled my phone back and tucked it in my pocket. “I watched it cross the yard. It’s probably the same size as Betty.”

He made big eyes. “Betty is a monster. We need a bigger ladder.”

“Make fun of her again and I’ll trap the skunk and leave it in your bed,” I cracked.

“Leaving me gifts in bed? I think you need to slow down a little, Atwood. We’re barely on speaking terms.”

I blushed against my will and turned away under the pretense of finding more chunks to create rungs out of. When my exasperation had faded and I had two more rungs in hand, I came to the table again and scooted him over by pushing my hip against his until he gave me some room at the table.

I rearranged the rungs. Then he adjusted them to his liking. Then I shot him a glare and moved them to my favorite spacing. His lips twitched, and he reached to adjust them again. I put my hand over his before he had a chance to move it and made a growling noise that caused him to actually laugh.

“Build it like this,” I said. “I think it’s the right size.”

We didn’t talk over the noise of his cordless drill screwing the pieces together until a little, skunk-sized ladder had been formed. He took it off the table and held it up between us. It came to mid-chest on me, and I gave a satisfied nod.

Reaching for it, I offered him a small smile. “Thanks.”

He grabbed it back toward him. “I’m coming with you.”

I shook my head and reached for it once more. “No way. I don’t need a man to help me drop a ladder between the springs on my trampoline. I can handle it.”

He allowed me to take it. “Has nothing to do with what you can or can’t do, and everything to do with me wanting to see this. It’s the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks.”

“There’s not going to be anything to see. They’re nocturnal. Most likely, he’ll cower under there until dark tonight and then come out.”

He turned off the garage heater and the lights and then opened the big main door. “Still coming.”

I picked up the ladder and went to put it in my trunk. By the time I had it settled, he’d closed his garage door and was sitting in the passenger seat of my car with a ridiculously satisfied look on his face. I didn’t bother saying anything but started the car and drove back to my place.

“What are your plans for bait?” he asked.

“Apple slices.”

He grinned. “What time did you get up this morning that you’ve had time to see him, do research, and formulate a rescue plan?”

“I’m an early riser.”

“Obviously.”

We pulled into my driveway and into my garage, where I lifted out the ladder and propped it against the garage wall before leading the way inside my house to prepare some apple slices. Brooks followed along, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it next to mine. I’d had other people in my home, many times, but it had never felt as small as it did with Brooks leaning up against one kitchen counter area while I worked at the other. His coat hanging next to mine was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. My eyes kept catching on it, and before too long I was noticing his scent filling up the little space.

My hands fumbled with the apple, catching it before it rolled onto the floor, as I opened a drawer to get a knife. He watched it all in silence, and I could hardly stand it.

“If you look out the sliding door you can see the path he left,” I said, using the paring knife to point.

Brooks, either actually interested or taking the hint, moved across the small space to look outside. “Yep. I see it.”

I hurried to finish with the apple, and soon we were dressed warm again and approaching the trampoline. He was carrying the apples, and I was carrying the ladder, a power move he’d acknowledged with nothing more than a crinkling around the eyes. We didn’t talk, both of us understanding that we didn’t want to scare the little guy. However, when we were standing next to the tramp, we realized there was a small issue. A spring or two was going to need to come out in order to leave room for him to actually use the ladder because the ladder itself took up all the space between springs.

I gestured at the springs, then to the bowl of apples, then the ground, then to Brooks, then to the springs again. He grinned and pointed at himself, the bowl of apples, the ground, and the springs. I rolled my eyes, picking up on his sarcasm even in the silence. His grin broadened, but he put the apples down and knelt slowly, peeking under the trampoline as he tugged a couple springs free. He set them off to the side and looked at me, holding his hands apart to show me about how big he thought the skunk was. My eyes grew large. Definitely bigger than Betty.

Brooks gestured for me to hand him the ladder, and at this point I simply gave it to him. There was no hill to die on here. He was already soaking his knees by kneeling in the snow. He slid the ladder into place and then placed a few apples slices around the top. He looked up to me, and I gave him two thumbs up before he looked back down under the tramp. When he did, he made a noise and jumped back, landing on his bottom before scrambling to his feet. I immediately understood the issue and made short work of jogging a few feet away. When we were out of firing range, we stopped and looked back at the tramp.