From behind her, Zac slid his palm from her elbow to her wrist, then settled on her hand. His other fingers gripped her left hip gently, shifting her slightly so she faced the lane head-on.
“It’s a fluid motion. Push the ball out in front of you, swing it back then let it fly. Be sure to align your hand in the direction you want the ball to go once you’ve released. If you cross it over, the course will follow straight into the gutter.”
“Along with my mind,” she couldn’t keep from saying.
His fingers tightened on her hip. The callouses played roughly against the cotton fabric that flowed gracefully out from her waist. Soft against rough. She wanted those hands on her skin. To play down the line of her leg and grip her ankle again. But this time without the guise of checking her for an injury.
“You’re killing me, tabby cat.” There went his breath again, playing with the escaped hairs at the nape of her neck. She pressed her ass back in a misguided attempt to push him away and regain her sanity. Though as he groaned and gripped her hip even tighter, she realized where she’d erred.
“I think I should bowl.” Tabitha looked over her shoulder and up into Zac’s blown pupils.
“Mm-hm,” he responded.
“Zac?”
“Yes, tabby cat?”
“Maybe you should step back.”
“You sure you want me to?”
“It’s not really about what I want at the moment.” Tabitha felt a wash of embarrassment, erasing the bulk of her lust. “But the family of five that settled in next to us seems mighty uncomfortable.”
It took a second for the words to register, but when they did, he stiffened.
“You got it from here.” He left a platonic pat on her shoulder and retreated. Tabitha snickered as he discreetly adjusted himself and sat in their area to watch her bowl.
Poised for the second half of her turn, Tabitha regarded Zac’s suggestions. Deep breath, square off, fluid swing, arm in line with the direction she wanted the ball to go. She watched as it rolled down the lane and crashed with more force into the remaining pins.
“Way to pick up that spare,” Zac said, wrapping her in a tight hug.
He smelled so freaking great. Warm and citrusy and Tabitha wanted to bury her face in his neck and sniff him all afternoon. She sighed and relaxed into him as he reached up and ran a couple fingers down her neck and along her shoulder, snagging on the strap tied in a neat bow. She wished they were alone so he could tug each side and release the top of her dress.
“Wanna get out of here?” he rumbled into her hair, seemingly reading her mind. “We’re all paid up.”
“I suppose there’s no reason to stay now that I’m a pro,” Tabitha teased, chuckling as Zac gripped her arm and all but dragged her out of the bowling alley.
Chapter thirty
Sixteen years ago, Seattle: Tabitha
Tabithapaddeddownthehallway. The plush white carpet muffled the steps of her bare feet as she entered the great room, where her parents and brother sat reading. The crackle coming from the gas fireplace—meant more for ambiance in their Seattle penthouse than heat—was the only sound in the room apart from periodic page turns and her mother’s teacup settling on a matching saucer.
Look them in the eye and say what you want. Be brave, tabby cat.
Zac’s words played through her mind as she prepared to have the most challenging discussion she’d ever had with her folks. One she didn’t anticipate would end well. One she’d been putting off for some time but found it harder and harder to keep to herself.
“Can I bother you for a moment?” she asked tentatively, hands clasped in front of her. Her mother eyed her from head to toe as though inventorying her daughter as parts of a whole. Tabitha held her breath, as she did every time one of her parents conducted such a perusal. She only released the lungful of air once she received the approving nod, which meant her appearance met some arbitrary bar.
“What is it, Tabitha?” her father asked, not looking up from his copy of the latestWall Street Journal.
“I need to talk to you about something important,” she continued.
He tucked his finger into the newspaper to hold its place and looked upon his daughter. “You have our attention.”
Tabitha glanced at her brother, seeking strength and encouragement, but all she found there was a shrug before he returned to his sci-fi book. Weren’t twins supposed to have some kind of psychic connection? Shouldn’t he be able to intuit that she needed his support?
“Tabitha. Speak.” She jolted at her father’s sharp tone but refused to cower to his abruptness.
