Not one to be easily discouraged, Tabitha scooped up her ball for the second roll of her turn. While her form was slightly better, she only managed to knock down two pins. Still, improvement was improvement. She twirled around and scooted off the lane.
Zac approached the return and slid his hands over the colorful balls lined up. He hemmed and hawed for an unnecessarily long time.
“Any day now, Zachariah.”
He cringed but didn’t hurry his movements. In fact—if it was even possible—he slowed his investigation. He skimmed his hands over the curve of each ball, and Tabitha could practically feel his calloused fingers on her skin. Remembered the rough sensation as he toyed with the strings at the bottom of her cutoff shorts. Then finally he made his selection and hefted it into his palm. But as he slowly slid his fingers into the holes, his knuckles refused to enter.
“They’re—” Tabitha cleared her throat as it caught on her words. “They’re not going to fit.”
“Hmm?” His brows lifted innocently, but there was only mischief sparkling in his brown eyes. “So they aren’t. A little too thick for this one.”
Tabitha squeezed her knees together. Maybe bowling wasn’t the best idea. Fine, it wasn’t the bowling that was the problem. It was her raging libido that had decided to wake up out of the blue and lust over the absolute wrong man at the absolute wrong time. She cursed herself for extending their visit to Wenatchee. Just the one game, then it was back to her hotel to organize her notes.
And possibly take a cold shower.
Zac decided on a different ball, positioned himself back from the lane, and took a deep breath. Then he strode a few methodical steps forward, gliding his ball backward then forward in expert form. A rumbling roll thundered down the lane and crashed into the pins, knocking each one over in a powerful blast.
Zac watched them tumble and nodded at his strike.
Tabitha watched his ass the whole time and nodded at the perfectly snug jeans he wore.
Maybe some water would do her good. A bottle from the vending machine or an entire bucket filled with ice should do.
“Nice job!” Why did she sound like a Little League coach? And why did she follow it up with an exploding fist bump?
Zac only grinned, eyes darkening, and his smile curled into a lopsided grin, practically licking his lips because he knew.
He knew she was hot for him.
He’d learned sixteen years ago what it meant when she started acting all awkward. When she wasn’t attracted to someone, no matter how intimidating or powerful, she had the ability to remain cool as a cucumber. Unflappable, one might say. But if she had a thing for someone?
Tabitha had less than zero game.
“My turn,” she sang, secretly hating herself for having such an obvious tell.
“Before you arm yourself”—Zac raised his hands in a defense stance—“would you like some pointers?”
“No,” she barked. Demanding her nerve to calm down she tried again. “No thank you. I think I’ve got this handled on my own.”
Equipped with the bowling ball, Tabitha stood back from the lane. She’d watched what Zac did, and while she’d been distracted by the sway of his derriere, she thought she could mimic his movements. Deep breath to center herself. She took a few steps forward while pulling back to glide the ball down the lane. Five pins toppled and she jumped in celebration, barely staying on her feet as her tractionless shoes slipped all over the floor.
“Well done,” Zac purred. “But you’re still missing something. Care if I help now?”
Tabitha was skeptical but also curious to see if his pointers helped. She shrugged. “Why not?”
Before she could blink, the eager man was beside her. Warmth pulsed off him as he stood so close. Goose bumps rose on her skin and it took everything in her to focus on his suggestions.
“First, you picked the wrong ball.” He snatched up the pink ball to return it to the rack lining the back wall.
“Would you believe me if I said I’d picked it because it matched my outfit?” Tabitha joked. She glanced at her dress and confirmed it did, indeed, match her dress.
“No. Cuz that’s not your style.” He walked to the next rack of bowling balls. “Yours was too light. You need a little heft to increase the power. The force will transfer from one pin to another and should get you a better score.”
Tabitha accepted the fourteen-pound ball he offered and grinned at the shimmering gold swirled in the design. It looked straight out of the 70s. “It’s a lot heavier than my original choice.”
“You can take it,” he teased. That husky voice scraped the nape of her neck, sending volts of electricity to every extremity. “Can I help you with your form?”
All she could manage was a nod because she had no idea what would come out of her mouth otherwise.
