Chapter 3
Chapter three
Sunday, Leavenworth: Zac
“That’s it for your excursion. Remember to grab your water bottles, bags, and shirts—I’m talking to you specifically, Margret—as you exit the vehicle. It’s been an absolute pleasure, ladies, and I hope to see you all back here again soon.”
Zac held open the van’s sliding door as six exhausted but happy middle-aged women filed out with dirt-smudged faces and skinned-up knees. Each one high-fived their guide and complimented the outing in some form or fashion.
“What about the gear?” one woman wearing nothing but very see-through leggings and an overflowing sports bra asked. She took a swig of a water bottle, droplets of water dribbling down her chin and into her strategically hoisted cleavage.
Zac felt his lips tug into a sly grin but refused to take the bait and maintained eye contact instead. “You let me worry about the gear, Margret.”
“I told you to call me Maggi,” she purred, handing over a few folded-up bills.
“My apologies, Maggi. Thank you for this.” He took the tip, slipped the money into his pocket, then retreated to pull open the back of the van and begin unloading.
“I really appreciate you helping me with tying my knots.” She followed him and snagged a few harnesses. “And helping me when it was too tight for me to loosen on my own.”
“Don’t mention it,” he assured her with a chuckle.
“I like that you know your way around a rope—”
“Hey, Mags. What’s the holdup?” one of the women hollered as the group piled into a large, blue SUV. Maggi swatted her hand in the group’s direction as though scolding the interrupting woman and turned back to Zac.
“Big plans for this evening?” she practically purred.
“I’m sure I’ll find some form of trouble or another.” Zac slipped his arm through the harnesses she held and shrugged them onto his shoulder. He turned to head toward the rear entrance of Off the Beaten Adventures but stopped and winked. “Or it’ll find me. Goodnight, Maggi.”
He rounded the corner and hurried into the back door, giving a sigh of relief that he’d evaded another of the woman’s advances.
The group had been great. New to the sport, and excited to give climbing a try.
The only trouble was Maggi had her sights set on him from the jump and was relentless in her advances.
And nine months ago, Zac would have been into it.
He would have set up a time to meet Maggi for a drink or three, culminating in a night of naked fun in her hotel room.
But that was before making an ass of himself at his best friend, Jonathan’s, wedding.
Before hitting on Jonathan’s little sister so vulgarly that he was surprised he’d left the celebration with two functioning testicles.
Or with his friendships still intact.
But Zac was a different man.
He was trying to be a different man.
It’s not like he’d taken a vow of celibacy or anything. After all, it was hard to shut down the ingrained charm. Women flocked to him, and while it was challenging to say no to the buffet, surely an occasional taste was allowed.
Never a customer, though.
He’d mixed business with pleasure too many times, and if he had any hope of being taken seriously by Jonathan—who also happened to be Zac’s boss—he needed to cut the crap and act like a professional.
Zac grabbed the cash from his back pocket and spied a scrap of paper peeking out from the middle.
Scrawled in bubbly handwriting was Maggi’s name and phone number.
He hesitated at the pinch of temptation before crumpling the note and tossing it into the trash.
Backtracking was not an option. He added the cash to his wallet and finished with the gear.
With everything in its place and the inventory sheets adjusted, Zac followed the voices coming from the front of the building. He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the doorway to watch the lovers’ spat unfolding in the main lobby.
“Husband?” a syrupy sweet voice lilted across the room, hinting at the barely contained agitation lurking beneath.
“Yes, dear?” Jonathan grunted from where he stood across the lobby countertop, glaring intently at his wife, Lucy.
“Will you quit staring at me?” She wiped her sticky fingers on a paper napkin, which she tossed onto the growing heap beside her takeout container. “You’re giving me heartburn.”
“You sure it’s not the dozen blazing hot wings you just ate?” he retorted, wiping away the sympathy sweat from his brow.
Lucy smiled sweetly while sniffing back the snot in her nose. She caught sight of Zac and grinned.
“Want a wing?” she asked, holding one of the dripping offerings in the air.
Never one to turn down free food, Zac approached sheepishly. “You sure? I’d hate to take food from a pregnant woman.”
“Absolutely. I ordered the party platter because I thought he’d help me a little.” She pointed at Jon with a chicken bone so clean you’d think it’d been run through a dishwasher.
“I would have if you hadn’t smothered them in hot sauce that would set the devil’s anus on fire.”
She blew out a long breath and picked up another. Speckles of sweat dotted her temples. Her valiant efforts to hide the burn of the wings made Zac chuckle. “He’s being a baby. They’re not even that hot now that I’ve had so many.”
The closer Zac got to the couple, the more his eyes began to tingle. He wafted a hand in the air and took a step back. Trying not to cough, he said, “Damn, woman. I can feel that at the back of my throat from here. Kendrick’s really upped his hot wing game.”
“She brought her own sauce into The Rooftop and begged him to use it for her order. I guess they had to air the kitchen out for a few minutes because the line cook’s eyes wouldn’t stop watering. I keep telling her this can’t be good for the babies, but does she listen?”
“Pfft. Dr. Snyder says it can’t hurt,” Lucy grumbled as she sucked up the last of her drink and held her thermos out to her husband. He eyed the sloppy reusable container and grasped the only clean spot before returning to the kitchenette for the refill.
Eyes starting to acclimate, Zac walked closer. He leaned both elbows on the countertop and leveled a sympathetic look on the snotty, sweat-drenched woman. “Done being pregnant?”
“Un-der-state-ment of the damned year.” Her ever-present smile dipped a little.
“My back hurts all the time. I barely sleep in my bed at night but pass out everywhere else the rest of the day. My ankles are tree trunks—not that they were ever dainty to begin with. But mostly,” she continued, grinning with glistening eyes, “I wanna meet them.”
Zac’s heart swelled a bit. Out of everything his buddy had been through over the years, so much loss and tragedy, the best thing to come out of all of it was the woman standing across the counter, blazing wing sauce smeared on her cheeks and all.
Jon was the best man Zac knew and he was beyond happy that this little brunette powerhouse had fallen into his lap.
Or rather booked a backpacking excursion a few years back.
Something foreign poked at his heart through the adoration. Something that Zac might almost interpret as envy, if he’d ever wanted to settle down of course.
Zac was a lone wolf. He wasn’t meant to have the same kind of life as his friend who’d been spouting off dad jokes since high school. Jonathan was built for monogamy and had found the perfect woman to share his life with. The two were the fairy-tale couple—both so full of warmth and acceptance.
And forgiveness.
Jonathan returned with his wife’s refilled thermos and a stack of papers.
“Do you think I could get your opinion on these resumés, or are you too busy pretending those wings aren’t liquefying your organs?” Jonathan asked Lucy after planting a quick peck on her forehead.
“Resumés?” Zac scooted closer to Jon and tried to scoop up the file, to which his friend laid a heavy hand on the top. “Who’s leaving?”
“We are,” Jonathan stated before catching the wide-eyed alarm that overtook Zac’s face. He then quickly added, “Temporarily. Parental leave, remember?”
“Right. Right.” Zac knew it was coming, but he kept forgetting they would both take time off once the babies came. Though there being two babies would probably be exhausting. “I can help out.”
“Thanks, man”—why did that sound like a scoff?—“but I want to take a full three months off.”
“That’s fine. I can handle it,” Zac assured.
“He can handle what?” the office manager, Janet, asked as she sauntered into the room. The gray-haired woman coughed loudly. “Christ on a cracker, girl. You’re still working on those things? I know you’re pregnant and all, but those wings are going to melt my eyebrows off.”
“Sorry,” Lucy croaked sheepishly, tossing another polished chicken bone onto the heap and then wiping her hands. “I think I’m done anyways.” She closed the container and pointed to the file folder. “Can we bring those home with us? I need to put my feet up.”
“Of course, sunshine. Janet, would you mind keeping an eye on things until closing? There’re only two more guides out, but they should be back within the hour.”
“Yes. Take your wife home and get her off her feet so she can finish incubating those precious little chicks.” She settled at her desk and took a pull from her life’s a beach novelty mug.
“Wait, I can handle closing,” Zac cut in. He’d worked for Off the Beaten Adventures since he and Jon had been in high school. And spent most of his time hanging out there after school and on the weekends before that. He knew the place inside and out, backwards and forwards, top to bottom.
“Oh you can, can you?” Janet asked with overt condescension. She rose with creaky knees and brought a large stack of paperwork over to Zac. “Here.”
Zac took the files thrust into his arms and peered at them suspiciously. “Isn’t this why we have you?”
“And why is that exactly?” Janet tested as she settled back at her desk.
“To do the filing.”
“Young man, I keep this place afloat. Have been for thirty-five years, thank you very much.”
“But Jon doesn’t do this stuff.”
Zac jolted as a chorus of laughter shook the room.
Even Lucy giggled as she washed the remaining sauce off her hands and face at the sink in the kitchenette.
She dried her hands and waddled over to gather her things.
“Do you know how many stacks of files we have at home? I’ve been trying to get this guy to slow down since we met. ”
“When I’m not running an excursion, I spend my time here filing invoices, filling out whatever forms need filling out, and generally being Janet’s errand boy,” Jonathan said as he took Lucy’s purse, water bottle, and lunch cooler from her and ushered her toward the door.
“We’re a team, man. No job is too small for any of us. ”
“Ok fine. I’ll file papers and jump when Janet says to. Let me handle things while you’re on leave.”
Zac tried to ignore the snort coming from the office manager as she resumed typing at light speed. He’d never been Janet’s favorite, but her opinion wasn’t what mattered here.
Jonathan’s expression darkened as he shook his head. “I’m going to be blunt with you, man. I don’t trust you with this. You haven’t exactly been Mister Dependable. Since . . . well . . . ever.”
The words stung, there was no other way to put it.
Heat swept over Zac’s ears and cheeks, and he was happy that he’d let his russet beard grow long to hide the flush.
He desperately wanted his friend and closest thing to a brother to take him seriously.
To believe that he was capable of being a serious adult. “I’m working on that.”
“Sure, but this is not the time to practice your newfound sense of responsibility.” Jonathan supported Lucy’s elbow and guided her to the door. “Maybe when I get back, we can have you take on a little more of the duties around here. So you can prove yourself.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Zac shrugged, casting his eyes down at the stack of papers, but not before he caught a scheming glint in Lucy’s eye.
“Thanks again for closing up, Janet. See you both in the morning,” Jonathan said as the Millers exited the building.
Over the past nine months, Zac had spent countless hours mulling over when he became such a fuck up.
Arguably, embracing the role of devil-may-care-playboy might have been fun in the short term, but the long-term ramifications slammed into him last December at Jon and Lucy’s wedding.
The sickening realization that his friends didn’t trust or rely on him struck him like a boulder.
He’d taken time to sit with his actions for a while and figure out how to contribute rather than piss his life away in pursuit of pure pleasure.
For the longest time he thought of himself as the playful, fun guy of the group.
Always ready to meet up at the bar, or for any other shenanigan he was called to participate in.
But those youthful shenanigans became less and less frequent as they all entered their thirties and began living responsible adult lives.
Between buying homes, getting married, and having kids, his friends all seemed to move forward in their lives while he remained steadfast.
He didn’t need what they needed out of life. Property. A career. A wife. Kids.
No. Hell no. Those were all responsibilities that were far beyond what Zac cared to entertain. Besides, his life was great.
Pretty good, at least.
He had a sweet van set up. He’d bought a junker for cheap and spent the better part of a year tricking it out to be the perfect home on wheels.
The best part about it was that he could cut out of town at the drop of a hat whenever the flight of fancy took hold.
And since he had little to no responsibility, he could drop all that and hit the road.
Which was probably one of the reasons Jon thought he couldn’t rely on Zac.
Huh.
“Earth to Zachariah.” The perturbed crackle of Janet’s voice cut through the static gumming up Zac’s thoughts. “You going to stand there like a filing cabinet or put those papers in one?”
He looked down at the stack he still held. He could take the hour to file them away, be helpful for once. Help Janet with something mundane and time consuming. Actually contribute in some way beyond his usual duties of guiding.
You haven’t exactly been Mister Dependable.
Janet let out an unsurprised grunt as Zac deposited the files back on her desk and returned down the hallway from where he originally entered the building. He neared the door but stopped to retrieve a slip of paper from the wastebin and then pulled out his phone.
Zac:
It’s Zac from OTB. My evening just opened up. Drink?
Maggi:
I figured it’d only be a matter of time.
Name the time and place.
He strode from the rear exit out into the warm summer evening as he secured a meeting spot then pocketed his phone.
Jon was right. Zac had never been dependable. What was the point of trying now?