Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Tabitha
“You had the window the last time,” Tabitha pointed out forcefully while also trying her darndest to keep Zac from hearing her.
“I get carsick.” Lark laid on the pout in an almost comical proportion.
“But you’ll be up front too. It’s a single cab truck, remember?”
“I sure do,” she giggled then schooled her features. “Need the window in case I gotta yarf. Plus, my car sickness is, like, thirty-three times worse in the dark.”
“That makes zero sense.”
“And these roads are super windy—”
“Fine. Fine,” Tabitha barked quietly. “I’ll take the flipping middle.”
Lark’s clap and squeal of glee weren’t covert enough, though Tabitha was certain that wasn’t the other woman’s aim.
She knew the claim of impending nausea was a load of BS, but she was wiped from the combination of the climbing excursion and slamming into the realization that her ex would be leading the rest of them.
Frankly, she didn’t have enough energy to subvert Lark’s scheme.
“I’d say we’re burning daylight.” The husky texture of Zac’s words tunneled through the open truck door. “But it’s way past sunset. Though I don’t exactly want to spend the rest of my evening listening to you two bicker like an old married couple.”
“Just waiting for tabby cat to hop in,” Lark purred.
Of the ways Tabitha had planned to spend her evening dealing with these two hadn’t exactly topped it.
But she conceded and climbed into the truck.
The back of her thighs skimmed across the worn upholstery.
Nearing the heat radiating from Zac made her suddenly aware of her shorts riding up her thighs as she settled in.
She tried to casually tug them down, but Lark bounded into the truck beside her, shoving Tabitha even closer to their driver.
She thought thin thoughts as she buckled her seat belt and inched closer to the passenger side.
“Not that I wouldn’t love a lap dance or anything, but you’re kinda squishing me, babe.” Lark gave Tabitha a not so gentle heave.
“Settle down, tabby cat,” Zac chuckled as she smooshed against his arm and thigh.
The truck roared to life. Tabitha attempted to settle in the very center of the bench seat without touching either companion.
The truck seemed so much bigger when Frankie had been driving.
Now she felt as though she was going to pop like a refrigerated can of biscuits when the cardboard covering gets banged against the counter.
But something told her she wasn’t the only antsy one.
Zac sped down the curved road faster than he should have.
“Woah, cowboy,” Lark teased. “You mind slowing down a little?”
“Shit, sorry.” Zac flinched and slowed his speed.
“Hot date?”
“Lark,” Tabitha warned.
The photographer shrugged. “What? He doesn’t mind me asking. Do ya?”
Zac released a chuckle, heavy and rough. “Nah, blondie, I don’t mind.” He side-eyed Tabitha covertly and sighed. “As it happens, I do have a hot date.”
Tabitha couldn’t decide what bothered her more: that Zac had a date later or that it bothered her that he had a date later. Cyclical reasoning aside, she suddenly felt even more convinced that the window seat would have been the best spot.
No.
Nope.
Uh-uh.
She refused to let her ex’s plans—an ex she dated briefly and so long ago—upset her.
Even if he had appeared to double in muscle volume, and grown a full beard, and kept the same gleaming white, cheeky grin.
He was hot. Fine. She’d admit it. But she wasn’t going to allow herself to be derailed from her mission.
Her job was on the line, and fuck if this date-having-bastard had plans. She. Didn’t. Care.
Tabitha almost jumped as Lark slid her fingers over and squeezed Tabitha’s hand in the darkness of the truck cab. She nearly pulled away but instead settled into the comfort the woman was offering.
“What’s her name?” Lark asked, barely hiding the barb in her voice.
“Serta.”
“What the crap kind of name is Serta?”
Tabitha bit her lip to keep her sigh of relief (wait, not a sigh of relief; that would mean she gave a damn) in check and tried to decide if she should share the joke with Lark.
Something about the other woman’s secondhand snark was comforting.
Like she had an ally in this whole messed up week.
Before she could pipe up, Zac continued.
“She’s still new, and by that I mean she doesn’t groan when I climb on top of her yet. And after I’m done flopping around, she gives me the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.”
Silence came from the passenger side of the truck. She’d never known what it was like experiencing Lark in stunned silence, but there she was.
Tabitha had no idea how Zac kept it together, because she wasn’t able to hold back her giggle another second.
“He’s talking about his mattress,” she said through a building fit of laughter.
Zac’s warm caramel chuckle harmonized with hers in the sweetest melody, dragging Tabitha back to a simpler time in her life.
No, simpler wasn’t right. Life back then was complicated.
Stressful. Packed to the brim with preparation and single-minded concentration.
She spent every waking moment focused on climbing.
She considered the sport when she ate, when she worked out, when she decided what time she went to bed.
She even selected her hairstyle—all one layer, no bangs—to ensure a tidy braid with no flyaways.
Her purpose was clear in life, and even if she hadn’t 100% initiated it, she knew unequivocally what she was made for: climbing.
Or more specifically: succeeding at climbing professionally.
Until Zac sauntered into her life bringing with him excitement and tantalizing disorder.
She’d enjoyed so much fun and joy that month.
Until he left. And the laughter stopped.
Heart suddenly feeling heavy, Tabitha’s giggles faded away just as Lark’s started up.
“You had me going there, big guy. Good joke,” she praised.
They neared the parking lot of Off the Beaten and before the truck pulled to a stop, Tabitha’s belt was undone. She reached for Lark’s as well but was swatted away. She scowled as the sassy photographer clamped a hand over the buckle’s release button.
Zac killed the ignition and shoved open the creaky driver’s side door. The grinding sound of gravel beneath his feet rang in Tabitha’s ears until his raspy voice drifted through the open cab. “You coming, tabby cat?”
She stiffened at the hated nickname—to be fair, she hated all nicknames indiscriminately—and turned toward the open door.
Shrouded in near darkness, Zac stood with his hand extended.
Deep down she wanted to accept his assistance out of the large truck.
Maybe he’d settle a hand on either hip and lower her to the gravel.
She could imagine the heat of his calloused fingertips transferring to her skin.
A gentle breeze wisped through the air, bringing with it the scent of crisp citrus and lingering sunshine.
Oh god, the scent was achingly familiar and made Tabitha clench her knees together.
Zac’s eyes clocked the movement, which sent another wave of heat pinballing through her body.
Longing crept up, like the spiteful bitch that it was.
And so instead of giving in to the urge to touch him, she slid behind the steering wheel and out the driver’s side door, very carefully dodging contact with Zac’s imposing frame.
He shifted back to allow her the space to make an exit, anticipating her desire to keep from touching.
She glanced up just as he looked down at his feet but not before catching the brown of his eyes cool a little.
“Well, ladies. It’s been a pleasure,” Zac said, heading to the back of the truck. He pulled down the tailgate and scooped up as much gear as his arms could hold. And boy, those arms could hold a lot. “I’ll see you both tomorrow morning for bouldering.”
“Thanks, big guy,” Lark chirped as she strode by and whisked her arm around Tabitha’s waist. She marched her back toward the main drag of town and called over her shoulder, “See you at eight sharp.”
Only when they turned the corner did Tabith finally let her shoulders settle away from her ears.