Page 63 of A Class of Her Own

“You bet. Someday you can return the favor.”

I tugged my goggles on and straightened my coat. We moved together to where his skis were still lying in the snow, and I watched as he put them on. When he was finished our eyes met, and I had a sudden urge to tug him up against me for a kiss. The feeling flared bright, and it stole my words as I watched his eyes shine. Unable to speak, I moved to the side of the hill where the ski runs took off from. He followed, pointing at the run he was planning to do, and I specifically shook my head and pointed at another, waving at him as I pushed off and got moving. I needed space and time alone to process this newfound feeling.

That wasn’t the first time I’d felt that draw to him. Only moments ago, as I’d laid on my side and looked into his face, I’d wanted to slide forward and snuggle close, to press my cheek against his and have him wrap his arms around me. That need was almost completely new. My lack of physical affection had always been an issue in all my relationships. So, why now, and why with him? I did not appreciate thoughts and feelings that came out of left field. I focused on the sound of my skis pushing against the earth until my mind was as blank as the snow.

Brooks pulled his car into my driveway several hours later and cut the engine. I was wiped but also relaxed and warm. We’d eaten lunch in the lodge and skied until my legs begged for mercy. Sometimes we’d done a run together, and some runs we’d done separately, but I’d begun to notice that the choice was always mine. Brooks never nudged or suggested; he simply asked with an open expression and willingness to go with the flow.

I wasn’t sure what to think about that. Did he genuinely not care? Was he trying to appease me? The motivation mattered, and the curiosity stuck in my head all through the car ride home. I’d kept it buried, figuring it was silly to interrogate someone over why they’d be kind. Instead, I’d been chattier and told him some of the few funny childhood stories I had plus some classroom anecdotes that had him laughing.

Neither of us opened our car doors, and the silence felt significant, as though we were on a precipice and whatever happened next would decide our fate.

So, I made it weird. “Why did you invite me today, and why were you so nice about everything?”

I swiveled in my seat to face him and leaned my back against the car door. He mimicked my repositioning and shrugged.

“I’ve been told I’m a nice guy.”

“Sure, I get that. But why me? There must be other, friendlier women to invite skiing.”

He didn’t immediately answer and, as his eyes moved over my face, I felt self-conscious enough to reach up and smooth my hair. Only I was wearing a knit cap. I had no makeup on, and I was sure that my goggles had left red marks under my eyes. I certainly wasn’t in any shape to be eye candy.

“Forget I asked,” I said.

It came off annoyed, even though it was driven by embarrassment and a terrified realization that, at some point, he’d started making an effort to understand me. Guys didn’t do that, and, if they did, it ended badly for everyone involved. Before he could reply I pushed open the car door and got out. I popped open the back door and gathered my snow gear as he climbed out his side of the car.

“You might have the shortest fuse of anyone I know,” Brooks muttered. “I take one second to think about how to reply, and you’re huffing out of the car and stomping around.”

I slammed the back door shut and marched up to my front door. “I am not stomping.”

“My apologies. You weretrompingaround.”

I pushed the key into my door, and in my frustration I tried to turn in the wrong way. “This was a mistake,” I said, jiggling the key with one hand while I tried to hold onto my gear with the other. “Just, I knew it was too good to be true.”

His chest pressed against my back as he reached around me and turned my key the right direction. I closed my eyes, fighting off an intense need to lean back against him and feel his heat. I froze, rigid and confused, as he pushed my door open.

“What was too good to be true?” he asked against my ear.

I reminded myself to take a breath and hustled in through the front door. When I turned to slam it in his face, he was already through. I rolled my eyes and spun around to go down the hallway to my kitchen.

“You and this whole ski day. Trying to make sure I had a good time, letting me do solo runs, bringing a picnic lunch. It was all to lull me into a false sense of security. You’ve been faking it all to try and tear down my walls so that I’ll stop bothering you, but I’m onto it now.”

I set my gear in a messy heap on my kitchen table and tugged off my coat before turning to find that he’d pulled off his knit cap at some point and it was sticking out of one of his coat pockets. His hair stood on end as he unzipped his coat and started dragging it off.

“Do not take that off.”

“I’m taking it off.”

“You’re not staying.” I folded my arms and glared.

He moved past me and added his coat to the pile of outerwear on my table before turning to face me.

“So, you had a good time today?”

“Until I realized that this was a giant scheme.”

“You had a good time; you enjoyed the lunch I packed; you felt a sense of security,” he listed.

“All lies.”

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