Page 49 of Making New Plans

What was I doing?

I stared at the woman in the mirror. The slight edginess to her. I loved it. But would he? He’d only ever seen me as the boring lodge manager and once in workout clothes. What if this side of me turned him away?

“Uh-oh, Chloe meltdown imminent,” Sarah teased, but her smile was sympathetic.

Gina grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to look into her expertly lined brown eyes. “Stay with us, Chloe. Don’t go to the dark place.”

I smiled weakly. “Just jittery that’s all.”

“Remember, this is for fun. Let everything else go.”

I nodded, feeling like I needed to pee for the fourth time. But then the doorbell rang. Giving them a shaky smile, I thanked my friends again, and they wished me luck. I tucked my phone, house key, ID, and some cash in my pockets then hurried downstairs.

When I swung the front door open, I froze. My eyes swept over Hunter once in disbelief then again, slower, in scavenger-like hunger. His usual business attire had been traded for a soft black Henley that molded to every curved muscle he had and gray jeans that rode almost indecently low on his hips.

I licked my lips as ridiculous thoughts raced through my head, such as: Could you get a Henley tailored? If he lifted his arms, were his jeans riding low enough to see his boxers? Was it possible to swoon and do a happy dance at the same time? And why the hell was he looking at me like that?

Rose had dug an outfit out of my closet that I didn’t even remember buying. A fitted black tank top with silver “paint” splotches on it and dark red skinny jeans with several strategic rips in them. My makeup was silvery and smoky, thanks to Gina. And my hair fell in soft, curvy waves around my face and neck. My jewelry was a leather cuff with the band’s name stitched on it.

But I’d never seen anyone look at me the way he was. Like he’d just discovered the cure to cancer and a hole in his canoe all at once.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice deeper and rougher than usual.

Trying to ignore my swaying heart, I smiled. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” And mainly as an attempt to stop him from staring at me like that or I’d melt, I asked, “How’s your hand?”

He waved his unbandaged hand, a pink mark visible on the palm. “All better, thanks to you.” His caramel-colored eyes practically glowed in the low light. “Are you ready?”

Hell yes.

17

Chloe

Within minutes, we’d crossed the Tangled River town line and sped up toward Minneapolis. He fiddled with the radio a bit, landing on a rock station.

After a few moments of silence, he blurted out, “Still sore?”

“Excuse me?”

His cheeks flushed. “I meant from Sal’s class. That was a bit more brutal than I expected from a seventy-year-old.”

I smiled. “Yes, she does love her torture, your grandmother. But there really aren’t many ‘normal’ classes at Uffda.” I counted off on my fingers. “Mr. Joshi, the P.E. teacher at Tangled River Academy, teaches break dancing a couple nights a week. Donny Sunshine, a middle-aged hippie, teaches yoga with cats, goats, dogs, or whatever pet you have available. You might like Pedal to the Metal, which is a spin class to heavy metal music taught by Ms. Martinez, an ex-Marine. There’s also ballet, gymnastics, and weight-training but usually with some weird twist.” I glanced at him. “The one thing they might be missing is a Taekwondo class. You ever thought about teaching?”

He frowned at me. “Do you think people would actually want to learn from me?”

“Of course! You could teach the moves, some self-defense, sparring, or whatever else it entails.”

He shot me a sneaky grin. “What if I wanted to test out my teaching skills on a volunteer student first?”

Inwardly, I crowed with excitement. Outwardly, I nodded. A bit too eagerly. “Sure. If it helps. I’d love to learn to be a badass.”

His laugh filled the car. “You think I’m a badass?”

I rolled my eyes. “You want a volunteer or not?”

“Sure. How does a morning on the beach sound?”

“I can make that work.”

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