Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Zac
“Ok, ladies. Let’s see your figure eights,” Zac called then proceeded to mosey down the line of newbie lead climbers to eye their handiwork. “Good. Good. Very neat. Oof, Charlotte, that’s a sloppy knot. Beck, can you help her straighten things out?”
“Sure thing, teach,” replied the youngest woman of the group, who also happened to be the most experienced. Zac had taken note early on that the excitable ball of pep needed to have her surplus energy strategically focused or she’d drive him nuts.
“Thanks,” he said while continuing to check knots.
The group lead class began the same way as all the rest: waivers, gear, assessment of skills, and as soon as Frankie showed up, instruction could begin, which should’ve been any minute.
She’d been delayed by the magazine chick who was running late, which lacked a little professionalism if Zac was being honest. Not that he was one to talk.
He’d only just embraced his newfound sense of responsibility, and while he was still shaky on the execution, he could still call a spade a spade.
A tingle of pride licked at his chest, which was quickly replaced with something a bit more in the department of apprehension. He refused to let Jon and Lucy down. This article could mean big things for their business if it went well.
It could also mean irreparable damage if it didn’t.
Zac took a deep breath to calm the nerves that gathered where pride had initially begun to blossom.
He wouldn’t let it take root. The Millers opened their home to him and taught him about climbing.
The sport was a part of him, rooted so deeply that without it he’d have no clue who he was.
He could run these beginner courses blindfolded with one arm behind his back.
Where he struggled was playing the role of adult, but if his friends could entrust him with their livelihood, then he could trust himself too.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Frankie:
Parked and heading up. ETA 5 min.
Zac sent a thumbs-up and turned back to the group.
“Great work. Take ten to have a snack and hydrate. As soon as the rest arrive, we’ll dig in,” he announced.
Delighted chatter hummed through the students as they dispersed.
The group’s great energy put Zac at ease.
The worst case scenario would have been hosting the journalist while also managing a group of difficult customers.
The seven that were already there got along well together and exhibited a decent base level of knowledge; he and Frankie could dive right in and give them the maximum amount of time on the rocks.
The thud of boots on dirt and conversation emerged at the edge of the site where the trail from the parking lot passed through. Frankie’s hoot of laughter sounded as she stepped into the narrow clearing at the base of the tall granite walls.
“It’s about time, Francesca,” Zac teased, barking out a laugh as his co-worker and friend surreptitiously held up her middle finger in response.
It had taken a few months of awkwardness between him and Jon’s younger sister following the wedding, but Zac was pleased they’d settled into a new state of friendship.
She’d quickly forgiven the passes he made at the reception—even if her boyfriend Benji hadn’t fully gotten past it—while also warning him that if it happened again the consequences would be painful. Zac had no doubt.
Behind her huffed and puffed the curvaceous blonde from The Rooftop the night before. Her creamy skin showcased the red glow and misty speckles of perspiration. She caught sight of Zac and recognition popped a devious smile wide across her face. He’d swear her eyes actually twinkled mischievously.
Zac volleyed back his own grin. Then his gut dropped.
Because if blondie was there, so was . . .
“Tabby cat,” Zac murmured under his breath as the leggy redhead from his past hiked into view. Her overstuffed gear bag hitched high on her shoulders. She froze the moment she spotted him.
Frankie and the blonde one continued along the clearing and stopped in front of Zac.
“We meet again, formally this time. I’m Zac,” he clasped the woman’s outstretched hand for a quick shake. “And you are?”
“Beyond thrilled to be here,” she purred, though something about her tone stated her mirth was more about the coming events and not about him in general. “You can call me Lark. And of course you already know tabby cat.”
Tabitha, having dismissed her shock, marched over to the group with her back ramrod straight and chin high. “I’m looking forward to working with you for the day.”
“For the week,” he corrected, looking down to the hand she held out in greeting. He encircled her long, slim fingers with his larger, warmer hand.
“The week?” she balked.
Zac grinned, taking in her shock with villainous glee. His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand and he swore a wash of goose bumps traveled up her arm before she pulled away from him.
“The whole week,” he chuckled.
“Zac’s taking my brother’s place while Jon’s at the baby boot camp,” Frankie said and elbowed the large man in the ribs. “You’re in capable hands.”
“I’m sure we are,” Lark said a little too sweetly before following Frankie over to the gear that had been laid out neatly on the picnic table.
“Tabby cat, I—”
“Stop calling me that.” The venom in Tabitha’s voice was sharp. She narrowed her eyes. “You know my name.”
He leaned back slightly with arms crossed, pretending to ignore—but secretly loving—her hungry eyes as she watched his arms bulge. “I do. But the pet names are so much more fun.”
Her expression became ferocious.
Tabitha leaned in, keeping her voice low.
“Listen to me Zachariah Sebastian Hartford the third. I do not have the time or the patience for your childish bullshit. This article is important to me. And regardless of how you conduct yourself, it will get written. At this point, it’s up to you whether I paint this company in a flattering light or bust out an exposé on the utter lack of professionalism I experienced this week.
You’ll be fine if shit goes south. You have Daddy’s money to fall back on. Can your friends say the same?”
Zac’s arms flexed, though this time it wasn’t to taunt Tabitha with his biceps.
Jonathan was counting on him to help maintain and possibly bolster the reputation of Off the Beaten.
He let his friend—his family, really—down one too many times, but that stopped now.
He looked into the glass blue depths of his ex’s eyes.
Strain crinkled the crows feet at the edge of her lash lines.
His guess was that she needed this to go well just as badly as he did.
Which meant they were on a level playing field.
“Are you capable of being professional?” she urged. He almost missed the desperate plea at the bottom of her curt demand.
“Yes,” he said with as much determination as possible.
“Good.” Her shoulders receded from her ears, and she glanced over at Lark and Frankie, who watched their exchange with overt curiosity. “Let’s get this week over with.”
Something else they could agree on.