Page 1 of Tackle

Chapter One

The Parting Glass

Sitting in a corner booth, tucked away from prying eyes, Oz soaked in the atmosphere of the pub’s surroundings while patiently waiting for his meal to arrive. He was comfortable here. He liked the homey feel the green walls trimmed with decorative dark-oak molding gave the place. Even the raised gaming area toward the back, complete with dart boards and a couple of pool tables, had a vibe that invited people to hang out. The focal point, though, was the bar. Taking up most of the space along the right-hand wall, with its stained and glossed hand-carved wood, stylized glass and mirror work, and matching green leather topped barstools, it was a work of art.

But as elegant as the bar was, it wasn’t half as captivating as the woman who stood behind it.

He’d been watching her for almost two months.

She’d become an obsession since the first time he’d visited the place right after its grand opening. He didn’t know who she was, only that she was always thereandshe was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

After studying her for countless hours, he knew her long, rich-black hair fell like a curtain down her back and was so silky, it shined in the rays of the overhead lights, making it glow like an angel’s. Creamy skin, red, plump lips, the cutest fucking little nose, and her eyes—such a deep blue, they were like twin sapphires—so fucking striking, he could barely pull his eyes away. Add in a killer body to round out the package, and she was one-hundred percent perfection.

But it wasn’t only her looks that kept him coming back to the pub day after day. He was drawn to her exuberant nature—the liveliness and quick wit she displayed while dealing with her customers. He never grew tired of watching her, hanging on her interactions, waiting for the moment he’d get to hear her warm, rich laughter.

That woman, fucking A, she was truly a thing of beauty, inside and out.

Which also meant, no matter how much he may want to, he would never have the confidence to approach her. Big, brawny, and when not on the football field, lacking finesse, he’d been in enough embarrassing situations to have become gun-shy around women. In fact, just the thought of talking to the blue-eyed beauty made his palms clammy and had sweat forming on his upper lip. He didn’t need to worry about that though. Tucked away in his corner booth, he was safe from conversation. He could enjoy being in her company and never need to interact.

Until that day.

Usually working behind the bar, she’d unexpectedly come to his table to take his order.

Unprepared, he’d been a bit tongue-tied, but had finally managed to sputter out his usual order before she was rushing off again.

He watched her now, scurrying to and fro. Running behind the bar to mix a drink only to dart into the kitchen a minute later, coming out with her hands piled with plates to serve a waiting table. His brow furrowed as he took in her frazzled expression. Usually cheerful with a ready smile, the one she wore now seemed forced—he could tell from the way it didn’t meet her eyes and the stiffness of her facial muscles. After watching her for weeks, he knew all her expressions, and this one was new.

And it was one he didn’t like.

She disappeared into the kitchen again only to reappear a minute later, heading for his table.

He watched her approach. Even in a hurry, there was a gracefulness about her. A lightness in her step. A gentle sway to her hips. Would her touch be just as soft? His dick twitched and he shifted in his seat to get more comfortable, turning his mind to sport statistics.

James Harrison: 4-time All-Pro, 5-time Pro Bowler,Super Bowl XL, XLIII champion for the Steelers,2008 NFL Defensive Player of the Year

Sam Huff: 6-time All-Pro, 5-time Pro Bowler, 1956 NFL champion for the Giants, Pro Football Hall of Fame, Class of 1982

“Guinness burger with rashers and cheese and a side of champ fries.” Oz was pulled from his thoughts when a plate was set down in front of him along with a pint mug of soda. “If you need anything else, holler.”

She reached into her apron and pulled out a straw, setting it down on the table next to his glass. His hand shot out, grabbing onto hers before she could turn to leave.

Staring at his hand surrounding hers, his heart raced at the realization of what he’d done—but he didn’t let go. “Wait. Sit down a minute. You’re exhausted.”

Wide, startled eyes landed on him, and she shook her head. “I can’t. One of my servers didn’t show tonight. Leslie can’t handle things on her own.”

“You need a break. Five minutes won’t kill anyone.” He could see she was about to argue again and an uncharacteristically firm, “Sit,” popped out of his mouth.

She listened, thank fuck, because he wasn’t sure what his next move would’ve been to make her stay. He couldn’t picture himself bodily forcing her into the seat. The sheer size of his body, which made him a force on the field, made him very cautious of how he used his strength off it.

A look of relief crossed her features as she plopped onto the bench seat across from him. “I hate to admit when I’m wrong, but it does feel good to get off my feet.”

He pushed his plate to the center of the table. “You should eat something.”

She shook her head. “I’m okay, really.”

He picked up the straw, banging one end on the table to remove the wrapper before sticking it in the soda. He placed it in front of her. “Sip on this, at least. The sugar will do you good.”

That she conceded to, taking a long pull. Up close, he could see her skin was completely unblemished—not even a freckle marred the creamy complexion. And her eyes, which he’d thought were a solid dark blue, held a lighter ring around the pupil.

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