“Frankie.” She turned to Lark with raised brows.
“I’m the photographer, Lark. And would it be weird if I said you have a great aura? I’m getting a lot of blue and green. Almost like a tealy swirl.”
Tabitha cringed, but Frankie just laughed. “Depends on what that means exactly.”
“That you’re compassionate, nurturing, and have some boss feminine energy.”
“I’ll take it.” Frankie grinned and pulled a couple tablets out from under the counter and handed one to each. “Fill out these waivers while I finish loading up the truck. The rest of the group is on the way to the site.”
Embarrassment heated the space between Tabitha’s shoulder blades. “Sorry again about showing up late—”
She halted as Frankie held up her hand and shook her head. “Forget about it, really. The rest of the group is brand new to this, so giving them a head start before a pro arrives helps take the pressure off. Besides . . . I’m not an early riser either.”
“Same, girl. Same,” Lark agreed as she tapped away on the large screen.
“Give me fifteen and we’ll be set to head out. Bathroom’s around the corner. You can refill your water bottles in the kitchenette if you need to.” Frankie turned and scurried down the hall and out of sight.
Pro.Tension traveled from her shoulders and settled in Tabitha’s stomach, recalling the hangover queasiness that had subsided at the diner. There was no way of knowing how the week would go. The stakes were high. One article would determine whether she went home to a job or not. She’d already arrived late on the first day, and though their guide seemed ambivalent, tardiness wasn’t a good look. And Tabitha needed to look good during this trip if she had any hope of remaining with the magazine.
“Does your sexy lawyer climb too?” Lark asked, idly cleaning her camera’s lens.
Frankie smiled as she turned down a rutted dirt road. “Benjamin’s gone a couple of times, really gave it a good college try, but he’s a feet-on-the-ground kind of man.”
“Doesn’t love heights?”
“Understatement of the century.” Frankie’s mirthful scoff held nothing but adoration. It was clear she loved her boyfriend and appreciated his attempt, but Tabitha knew as well as anyone that climbing wasn’t for everyone. Take her brother, Angus, for example. Give the man two wheels and a helmet and he’d tear through the woods and over jumps like a maniac, but put him in a harness and tell him to climb and he’d freeze three feet off the ground. “What about you two? Anyone special back home?”
“Lots of someones, but none of them special,” Lark chuckled. “I’ve got high standards for anything long-term. Plus, I’m a wanderer. My RV and I go everywhere, and not too many quality grown men love the lifestyle.”
“I get that. What about you, Tabitha? You’ve been awfully quiet this whole ride, which I can only assume means you’re holding out on us.”
Tabitha hadn’t been in a relationship since . . . Damn. It had been years, and she couldn’t say for certain when she’d last felt anything beyond initial attraction. She dated a little here and there, but no one ever seemed to measure up.
She shrugged. “You can’t hold out when there’s nothing to hold out on. I focus a lot on work and climbing. There isn’t much time for other things.”
Two sets of eyes, one from each side, bored into the side of her head. Why did she agree to sit in the middle spot of the bench seat? Her love life was never a topic she enjoyed talking about. Her stories paled in comparison to everyone else’s, and she always left those kinds of discussions feeling a twinge of jealousy. She glanced at their driver, who surveyed her head to toe, then raised her brows.
“What?” Tabitha suddenly felt self-conscious.
“Nothing.”
Lark chimed in. “Spit it out, babe. Say what we’re all thinking.”
What the hell were they thinking?
“Fine. You’re a fucking stunner,” Frankie blurted.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, red. Your legs are so freaking long. And you’ve got these drool-worthy climber girl arms—I’ve spent the last twenty minutes deciding if I could chop them off and Frankenstein them to my body.” She ignored the giggle-snort coming from the other side of the truck’s cab. “And your hair. I don’t even know what to call that shade.”
“Late autumn sunset,” Lark provided.
Tabitha squirmed under the assessment coming from both sides. She worked hard to stay fit over the years, even after she quit climbing competitively, but working at a desk and tiptoeing toward forty wasn’t making it easy. Each year brought a little more fluff around the middle and a few extra dimples on her lower half. She longed to be one of those women who didn’t give a damn. To be grateful for a body that allowed her to do what she wanted. But it was hard to keep from comparing herself to others who climbed, or even to herself, twenty years ago.
“Can we get back to business?”
“Fine. Fine,” Frankie said with a sigh. “We’re almost there anyways.”
