“There’s way more to it than that, I’m afraid.”
“Like what?” She crossed her arms and pinched her lips into a cute little pout.
“You have to consider the weight of the ball, the six-degree angle for the perfect strike,” he said, nearly offended. “Then there’s force, curvature, velocity,friction.”
“Are we still talking about bowling?”
“Why, Miss Tabitha Handcock, was that a sex joke?”
“I couldn’t keep it in. It slipped out,” she groaned bashfully.
“That’s what she said,” Zac teased further.
“Okay, okay. Let’s cap it off with that one, shall we?”
“Gladly.” He winked and returned his eyes to the road.
Chapter twenty-seven
Tabitha
Followingaquicklunchfrom a taco truck in downtown Wenatchee, Tabitha insisted they head to the coffee shop early so she could brush up on her notes and get into interview mode. This part of her job always felt the most comfortable. Whether she was working on a story about a pro climber, a business owner, or some lucky soul who’d barely escaped death, the excitement or passion in their eyes always gave her a rush.
It was a sensation she’d known well back when she competed. A zest for achievement. Notoriety. She’d been interviewed a few times in her heyday. Once byRock ‘n’ Ropeslong before she held a permanent residence with the climbing magazine.
Semi-permanent.
Reigniting her spark in the sport was critical to retaining her job. The career she’d fought so hard for. The career she lost so much for.
Because while journalism was a “perfectly fine job,” it wasn’t a future fitting the Handcocks’ only daughter. Not when she had such spectacular promise as a professional climber.
“Why would you waste your talent?”Her father’s words followed her to work every day, even though she hadn’t spoken to them once she’d stepped away from competing. All she had left of her family was Angus, and she was fortunate to always have his unwavering support.
She’d come a long way since cutting ties with her parents and taking a chance on herself. She’d missed their financial support for a bit, but it didn’t take long for her to find the right footing.
“Iced Americano for Tabitha Ba”—the barista tripped up with a smirk—“Tabitha Babitha?”
Tabitha scowled over her shoulder at Zac, who’d insisted he order both of their drinks before he settled at a table across the small café. He wanted to give her space to focus. But eyes crinkling in mirth while trying—and failing—to hold back a smile wasn’t exactly helping her concentrate.
“Is there a Tabitha Babitha here?”
With back straight, Tabitha rose and strode to the counter to accept the tainted peace offering. He wasn’t going to get a rise out of her.
Not today.
Thoughts of the alley interlude they’d shared flitted through her mind and she could practically feel his fingers on her—torturous and teasing.
“Thanks,” she clipped and returned to her table.
The earthy sip of coffee grounded her. Grateful for the promise of caffeine because lately, she’d been oscillating between keyed up and so very, very tired. Between her career concerns and the reminder that she still had a whole lead climbing excursion with Zac tomorrow, there was a lot battling for space in her mind.
One thing at a time. First, the interview.
Bells jingled over the café door, and a tall man with dark blond hair and tired eyes escorted an extremely pregnant woman inside. She’d seen the couple’s photos while researching before the trip. Though he looked like he’d aged ten years and it looked like a slight breeze could send the petite brunette toppling.
That must be the Millers.
Tabitha rose from her table and approached the couple with a pleasant smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller? I’m Tabitha fromRock ‘n’ Ropes.”
