Page 56 of A Class of Her Own

“And?”

“It was very educational. Maybe I’ve been fighting the wrong battles.”

He chuckled. “You meanme?”

I darted a glance at him, and my own smile, although smaller than his, made my mouth curl. “Yeah. It occurred to me that maybe we’re on the same side here.”

“I’ve never been your enemy, you know,” he said in a soft voice that sounded a little hesitant.

“That remains to be seen,” I quipped, but there was no heat behind it.

“Truth moment, was that fifteen-pound feline actually your idea?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Oh my gosh, no. But the airplane thing? Totally me. The worry keeps me up at night.”

“I can appreciate that. Want to know what keeps me up at night?”

“Sure.”

“Wondering what people will want to discuss at next month’s meeting. Is it me, or is it getting worse?”

“It’s getting worse.”

“So, maybe it is me. Maybe I bring it out in people. Sometimes I want to lose my cool and tell them they’re being ridiculous and wasting everyone’s time. It’s getting harder and harder to take this seriously. At least I’ve had you all these months, fighting me, yes, but mostly fighting back against the strange requests. I know we haven’t seen eye-to-eye, but it’s nice to know someone agrees with me.”

I glanced at him again. His profile was hard to see in the dark, but he looked honestly stumped, which matched my general feeling. He’d seen me as an ally of sorts?

“I thought you really didn’t like me,” I said quietly.

He shrugged. “I didn’t like that you were out to get me. I was confused about why. But I’ve appreciated that we feel the same way about a lot of what goes on here. Now if you had any ideas on how I can stop it from going on like this, I’d be interested in hearing them.”

“You could stop being so nice and actually discussing the ridiculous things people submit,” I stated.

“I’m pretty sure I have to discuss them. I think it’s the code,” he scoffed. “They should have put Leland in as president. That man is just not interested in hearing it.”

“He was the president when I moved in.”

Ice crunched under his boot, and he stepped behind me for a moment, falling into single line to avoid an icy patch before coming back to my side. “Really? What was that like?”

“Well, no one talked about having towel police or weight limits for cats. But not much got done outside of the bare minimum.”

“I know you wanted to be the president. I didn’t really understand why you were so intense about it. I said some pretty rude things to you in the past. I’m sorry. My parents drilled politeness into my brother and me with exactness. I know better.”

We’d reached my house, and I turned to face him as we stood on my driveway. His eyes were lost in shadows, but I could tell he was sincere by the tone of his voice and an intensity in his posture. I licked my lips, unsure of how to respond. I was better with sparring than I’d ever be with sincerity.

“I gave you plenty of reasons to be rude to me. Besides, it’s probably for the best that I’m not president,” I half-whispered. “I have a really unflattering tendency to turn into a dictator.”

He smiled, his teeth bright against his dark beard. “These people might need a tyrant to lead them.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they need a nice guy who will let them vent a little.”

We fell into silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I wiggled my toes in my boots, feeling the creeping chill but oddly loathe to break up this little peace talk we’d stumbled into.

“So, your parents were big on manners, huh?” I asked.

He blew out a laugh. “Huge. They hosted parties a lot, and us boys were expected to be perfect little gentleman. Or when they took their summer travels to Europe and left us in the care of a sitter, they expected glowing reports of our behavior.”

“They didn’t take you along?”

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