Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Thursday: Tabitha
Tabitha knocked on Lark’s RV door for a third time and only then did she hear movement from within. The low groan and lumbered approach was unlike her friend’s normal pep.
“I’m coming,” came the miserable groan.
She fiddled with the lock, and when Lark finally showed herself, the green husk of a woman was not what Tabitha expected to see.
“Oh my god.” She stepped into the trailer, following Lark, who was wearing the same shirt from the night before, underwear, and one sock. “What the hell happened to you? Are you hungover?”
“I don’t drink,” Lark grumbled, holding back a little heave. “Sober, remember?”
Tabitha’s nose prickled at the slightly foul scent in the stuffy vehicle. She began opening all the windows to allow air to flow through and freshen the place up.
Lark wrapped a blanket around her like a shroud and sat cross legged on her bed with a big bowl in her lap.
“I think I have food poisoning,” she murmured.
Dark circles, grayish-green skin. Sweat beading on her forehead. The voluptuous, vivacious, beyond-sunny woman looked like death.
Tabitha sat on the bed and placed a hand on Lark’s back. “Is there anything I can get you? Antacids? Ginger ale? A greasy burger.”
“Ugh,” Lark moaned while swatting away Tabitha’s hand. “So mean.”
Tabitha chuckled. “Fine, all of that works for me when I’m sick, but what about you? I can run to the store and snag whatever.”
Blood drained from Lark’s features, and Tabitha thought for sure another round of vomiting was upon them. She slowly slid off the bed and took a tentative step back. Lark white knuckled the bowl but steadied her breath and a splash of color returned.
“False alarm,” she moaned and flopped onto her back, the empty bowl still death gripped in one fist. “The only thing I need is the biggest bottle of the pink stuff you can find. Get two if you have to. A gallon jug of water and some of those fizzy hydration tabs.”
“No food?”
“Shut your mouth with that foul language.”
“Ok, ok. I have my orders,” Tabitha soothed. I’ll be back before you know it.
Tabitha shifted her shopping basket to the other elbow to balance its heft as she browsed the digestion aisle at the local grocery store.
She held two bottles of stomach relief medicine, comparing the ingredients before realizing she didn’t know the difference.
She tossed both into her basket and made for the hydration tabs.
“Rough night last night?” a husky voice teased loudly from down the aisle.
Tabitha looked up, equally startled by Zac’s presence and the volume of his question.
If she were a blusher, she would have been flaming from neck to hairline.
Why was that his opening comment? He knew how things went the night before.
How they’d shamelessly given in to the desires they’d been holding back.
How their kiss had morphed into an all-out finger-bang situation.
Was this his attempt at breaking the ice, because holy hell, it wouldn’t end well for him.
“Why would you—” Her clipped words fell away as he gestured to her basket and understanding dawned. The hangover supplies: antacids, sports drinks, and—most embarrassingly—anti-diarrheal. “This is for Lark.”
Zac took a few steps closer, concern knitting his brow. “What happened? She ok?”
At about arm’s length, he was still entirely too close. But instead of retreating, she held her ground. “Food poisoning.”
“From what?” He blew out a breath, seemingly relieved for a moment, before scrunching his face once more like he was envisioning the whole ordeal.
“Probably the Poke.” Tabitha shrugged.
“Okay Poke?” he asked warily, like he already knew the response.
“Is there another Poke shop in town?” Again, she schooled her snark.
She hadn’t slept well last night. After their sizzling encounter she’d gone back into the beer garden, paid the tab, then made up an excuse about being tired before retreating to her hotel room to try to figure out what the hell happened.
And while Zac had made her feel all kinds of inconvenient feelings, he wasn’t the only one dancing the tango earlier that night.
Lowering her hackles, she softened her voice and continued.
“Frankie took us after hiking Valhalla yesterday morning.”
“Should have guessed.” He scoffed and adjusted his worn baseball hat.
Tabitha silently watched his bicep bulge with the movement.
Heartache pinched at her ribs as she spied the worn tattoo on the back of his upper arm.
Other designs didn’t cover the two carabiners hooked together to create a heart.
Instead, they danced carefully around his first tattoo, accentuating the presence without getting in the way of the original design.
A mark that he’d gotten with her.
Redirecting her attention, Tabitha actually heard Zac’s words. “Wait, why ‘should have guessed’? Do people regularly get sick from the food there?”
He chuckled at her recoiled shock. The health department gave it the green smiley face, which meant they’d passed inspection, but perhaps that was old?
“Not to my knowledge,” Zac soothed, holding up a hand to calm Tabitha’s anxiety. “But Frankie tried to get me to go once and I was put off by how iffy the entrance was. It didn’t scream food safety to me.”
“Right? When we went, garbage bags were outside the door with a stray cat having a feast.”
“Little orange cat with a bite taken out of one ear?”
“Yes?”
“That’s Rufus,” Zac said as if that explained everything.
“So . . . Not a stray, then?”
“No. Well, yes.” He looked to the ceiling as though the correct description was scrawled on one of the drop panels.
“He’s kind of the town cat. No one really owns him, but he’s regularly taken to the vet, gets flea medicine, has all his shots.
We joke that he’s our mayor since we haven’t had one in a few years.
He hangs out in some of the storefronts on the main drag through town. ”
“That sounds sanitary.” Tabitha shuddered as she imagined the mangey cat hopping up on one of the tables at Okay Poke to nibble on tuna an exiting group left behind.
“We don’t let him inside of restaurants.” He sounded offended. “We aren’t a bunch of hicks, ya know.”
“No, I wasn’t saying you were—”
“Haven’t you ever been to a store with a shop cat?”
“I don’t think so,” Tabitha murmured. Her basket was suddenly very heavy and she was very tired. Zac began shifting uncomfortably too. She looked down at the medicine and jolted out of the bubble they’d been standing in together. “Shit. I need to get this to Lark.”
“Let me help.” Before she could refuse, the basket hung from one of his hands while he balanced a case of Ranier beer on the other.
She followed behind him, watching the way his soft T-shirt pulled at his flexed back muscles.
And wow, those equally worn Carharts hugged his ass nicely with each step.
“Tabby cat.”
“Huh?” she responded guiltily, caught mid-ogle.
“Did you still want to do the multi-pitch today? We could move it to tomorrow if that helps Lark.” He unloaded her groceries onto the conveyor belt and placed the basket in the neat stack by the register.
“I’ve got the interview with Jonathan tomorrow at lunch. It’s a critical part of the whole article.”
“Sure, that makes sense.” He nodded. “What about Saturday?”
“I leave Saturday.”
Zac pulled out his phone and typed furiously, not saying anything more. Tabitha exchanged pleasantries with the cashier, paid, and picked up her bag. But before she could leave, his phone dinged and a smile spread wide across his face.
“What is it?” Tabitha asked cautiously. She’d seen that exact grin many times before, which always accompanied some mischief.
“You’re meeting with Jonathan at noon today. Then we can climb tomorrow. That should give blondie the opportunity to feel better.”
Initial irritation overcame her until she tamped it down. He was trying to help. It was sweet, actually. And she should be grateful that he had connections with the owner.
She forced her own smile. “Thank you. Where do I meet him for lunch?”
“Are you familiar with Wenatchee?”
“No,” Tabitha huffed. “I also don’t have a car. Lark drove us here in her RV.”
“Ok.” Zac hefted the case of beer onto his shoulder and made for the exit.
“Wait, that’s it?” Tabitha scurried after him.
Great. Now she had to either figure out the bus route or find a way to rent a car.
There was no way she’d make Lark drive her to the interview.
Maybe she could coax Lark to stay in her room for a few hours while she drove the RV out there by herself.
But the idea of Lark vomiting in the hotel room and navigating Gertie around the winding roads almost had Tabitha reaching for the antacids she’d just bought.
“I’ll pick you up at ten-thirty.”
“What?”
“I’ll drive you. Maybe we could get a bite to eat first?”
Tabitha had dozens of reasons why his suggestion was a bad idea, but Claudia’s voice rang in her ear.
Give us a glimpse of the old Tabitha and your job is safe.
She didn’t like accepting help, but what choice did she have? And who better to bring out the version of her that the magazine wanted than someone who knew her.
Intimately.
“Ten-thirty it is,” she smiled tightly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said and turned to stride in the opposite direction.
“But no Poke!” she shouted.
“No shit,” he hollered over his shoulder with a laugh.