Page 73 of A Class of Her Own

She chuckled, but it wasn’t a sound of amusement. “I’m going to do what we Atwoods always do. Overthink it, avoid discussing it, and then freak out when I’m pushed on making a choice.”

I huffed. “We’re not that bad.”

“Let’s not start lying to each other now, Evergreen,” she teased.

We fell into a short silence, and I took a deep breath. “I think you should do it, Ash. If you have a chance to get over something you’re afraid of and someone by your side who cares enough to help you, you’d be silly to turn that down.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Be sure to send me pictures.”

“Mer, when you decide to face one of your fears, I’ll have your back, too.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Little Sis, but my fears are too many to mention, and you only have one life to live.”

“Eh, Willow tells me I can manifest anything I want, so I’ll manifest eternal youth.” She laughed. “She tells me she’s manifesting a man for you. How’s that going?”

“Don’t encourage her.”

“No men around? No one strikes your fancy?” Her voice was playful. “No one, maybe, with a beard and curly hair who bought something from Willow on Black Friday and who regularly pops up in conversation.”

“Nope. No one.”

“Not an HOA president with sculpted abs and gigantic biceps?”

“Good grief. Sculpted abs and gigantic biceps? His muscles, or lack thereof, are a mystery I have not unlocked.”

Ash laughed out loud. “Who is he?”

“A figment of Willow’s warped mind.”

“She gave me some pretty specific descriptions of him, so don’t pretend you don’t know who she’s talking about.”

I made a growling noise. “Yes. I do. But she did not manifest him into my life. I’ve known him for months, and until, like, two weeks ago, we were mortal enemies.”

“His name?”

“Not happening.”

“I want to look him up online,” she pressed.

“No way.”

“Typing it in now. B-r-o-o-k-s . . .”

“What is happening?” I flopped back onto my bed and pressed my arm over my eyes. “Ash Atwood, you’re a devious woman. What do you know, and who told you anything about it?”

“I know so many things,” she crowed. “And, from his picture online, I’d say you might want to find out some things for yourself.”

Warmth started at the back of my neck and crawled into my face as an image of him leaning over me flitted into my mind. “He’s a monster,” I said weakly.

“Really?”

“Yep. Mean and nasty. Always has to have his way.”

“I see.”

“He hates my cat, Betty.”

---