Page 57 of A Class of Her Own

He shook his head. “That was normal where I grew up. Expected, even. It’s okay. My love of nature came from long summers either at sleepaway camp or with sort of negligent sitters. It gave me hours to explore.”

It almost sounded like maybe he’d been a little lonely as a child, too, something I tucked away to think on later.

“I haven’t done a ton of nature stuff, outside of skiing and this river raft adventure I did over the summer in Moab.”

“That’s in the southern part of the state, right?”

“Yeah. Red sand, desert.”

“I went there once with my ex when I first moved out here. Pretty cool place. I should go back sometime.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and seemed to be looking back at a memory as his gaze became unfocused. “Lots of off-road-vehicles and mountain bikers, right?”

I was still a little stuck on the ex comment, but I nodded. “Where are you from, originally?” I asked.

“Connecticut. I moved to Salt Lake about six years ago with my ex-fiancée when she found work there. After we broke up I wanted to stay in Utah because there’s so much great outdoor recreation, but I didn’t want to stay where she was. Logan was a good fit. I’ve been here about four years.”

An odd lump had formed in my throat. “So, you didn’t get married?”

He shook his head. “Nope. She needed someone a little more intense and creative. I’m neither of those things, apparently. Her words.”

“You do woodwork,” I managed. “That’s creative.”

He chuckled. “It drives the ladies wild, a man who measures twice and cuts once. Real hot and heavy stuff.”

I laughed, too. “Well, someday you’ll find someone who appreciates your truly boring personality.”

He tipped his head slightly in acknowledgment. “And someday you’ll find a guy who doesn’t mind your crusade for ultimate power.”

“Oh gosh, I hope not. Nothing would be worse than someone encouraging me,” I mocked, making my eyes big. I walked toward my house. “Good night, Mr. President.”

“Good night, Ms. Atwood. May you avoid obese cats and stray planes.”

“And may you never get between Leland and his television programming.”

I heard him laugh as I closed the door behind me, and the sound followed me into my dreams that night.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I pedaled along on a bike at the gym early the next morning. Working out always helped clear my mind, and, with today being Lizzie’s wedding, I knew I’d need extra patience. Big crowds and events were hard for someone like me who needed to feel in control. Wearing pink was also hard for me. But while Lizzie’s color theme of dark pink, light pink, and green—with fancy names to dress it up—wasn’t my cup of tea, I could admit that as far as pinks and greens go, it wasn’t terrible. That said, I would never have worn those shades for any other reason.

My mind was whirling as quickly as the pedals on the bike, going around and around, thinking about my conversation with Brooks last night. It had been so normal. Almost like people would talk to a neighbor, or, you know, someone they were friends with. I hadn’t felt uncomfortable with him. And there may even have been a few moments of jealousy regarding Shayla that were regrettable but still worth analyzing. I shot off a text to Hailey.

Me: Brooks VanOrman walked home with me last night. I think we might not be enemies anymore. I got jealous of the committee treasurer

My phone rang five minutes later. Seeing her name flash on the screen, I picked it up.

“It’s bad form to return a text by calling the person,” I stated, out of breath.

“Why do you sound like you’re dying?” Her voice was hoarse, and I realized that at 6:43 a.m. she’d probably been sleeping.

“I’m riding a bike at the gym. Let’s be grateful I’m alone in this room, or I’d be getting a lot of dirty looks for talking on the phone.”

“You’re alone because it’s too early.”

“Science has discovered that exercise helps quiet down the worried parts of our brains. It’s Lizzie’s wedding day, and there’s a lot going on. For starters, she’s making me wear pink, and I hate pink. So, I’m exercising away my worry that I’ll look like a giant cloud of cotton candy.”

She yawned before responding. “First of all, it’s not cotton candy colored. The shades are called rose and rosewood as you already know. You at least got rosewood, which is darker.”

I laughed. “All I’m picturing is that scene in the moveSteel Magnoliaswhere they tease Shelby about choosing blush and bashful as her wedding colors. Rose and Rosewood are literally the same name!”

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