Page 11 of Tackle

She let her smile escape. “Doyouwant to call it a date?” Emerson hoped he could tell by her sing-song tone that she was gently teasing him. “Are you interested in more than my culinary skills, Oz Olson?”

He grew fascinated with the ground again but she saw his eyes peek over at her with clear intention. “An athlete on a strict training regime doesn’t eat burgers every day, no matter how good, if he isn’t interested in something else.”

Well that cleared things up and shot a thrill through her to boot. “So, our first date then.”

Oz’s gaze zeroed in on her face, his body stilling. “First? Does that mean you’d be interested in a second?”

“That depends.”

His head snapped up. “On what?”

“What you like on your pizza.” She smirked to let him know she was teasing.

His expression relaxed and he smiled. “Pepperoni. I like pepperoni.”

“I can live with that.”

Silence stretched—the uncomfortable kind that had even Emerson wanting to fidget—when Oz finally said, “So, um, my car’s parked close by in the player’s lot. I can give you a lift to yours so you can follow me to my place.”

“Sounds good.” She hooked her arm through his and they started walking toward the gate.

“So, what do you like on yours? Your pizza, I mean,” he clarified.

“I’m not picky. I like everything except anchovies. Oh, and pineapple.”

Oz nodded. “I never could understand the fascination with that. Fruit isn’t meant to be hot.”

“Right!”

He grinned down at her. “Something we have in common.”

Funny how she’d had that same thought the other night. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

They reached his Escalade, and he beeped the locks and opened her door to help her in. Which she needed because the damn thing was massive. He stood in the doorway, having to look up at her, and it was a bit of a strange feeling—the shoe being on the other foot. She had to admit, she liked it though, seeing Oz from that perspective. The way his head tilted back, it would be so easy to simply lean down and—

“Now, tell me you like action movies to go with your pizza and you’ll be the perfect date,” Oz said, interrupting her lust-filled thoughts.

She chuckled to hide her discomfort.

His expression softened, and from her vantage point she could see his eyes grow warm. “I like your laugh.”

That look. Oh my. If she’d been standing, she knew her knees would’ve gone weak. “Something else we have in common.”

He smirked, and damn that was sexy. “You like your laugh too?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I like yours.”

His smirk grew into a smile.

Then he gently shut her door and her eyes tracked him as he rounded the hood.

Their first date officially starting.

Chapter Five

Oz checked his rearview mirror—for the tenth time—to make sure Emerson still followed behind him. He was nervous. This would be the first time he and Emerson spent any time alone together without the crowded pub as a buffer.

A far cry from what could be called a ladies’ man—not one for one-night stands—he never saw much action off the field. Even being classified as a ‘jock’ in school, he hadn’t had his first real date until his senior year of high school—and by real he meant one that didn’t involve being paired with a girl for a class project or hanging out with one in a large group.

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