Page 2 of Tackle

“Thanks.” She slumped back into her seat. Her eyes took him in, her head tipping to the side, causing a lustrous length of her hair to fall over one shoulder. “I’ve noticed you, you know?”

His brows rose. She had?

She laughed, melting away the residual tension in her features. “You look surprised. I wouldn’t be much of a business owner if I didn’t notice my number one customer. Especially one who looks like you.”

Was she flirting? No, she probably meant his size. Hewashard to miss.

“But what I’m curious to know,” she continued, “is what’s drawing you in?”

His face heated in embarrassment, and he hoped the light was dim enough she wouldn’t notice, all the while, cursing his Nordic heritage for his pale complexion. He was at a complete loss for how to answer. Feeling awkward while she sat across from him, clearly waiting for a reply, he gruffly mumbled the first thing that came to him which was still true yet not the real reason he was there. “The food is good.”

She responded with a bright smile which made her blue eyes shine and held out a hand. “I’m Emerson, by the way.”

Feeling a bit at sea, he hesitated only a fraction of a second before engulfing her hand with his. Though her fingers were long and slender, they weren’t as delicate as they appeared. They wrapped around his beefy hand, squeezing with a force that surprised him. “Oz.”

“Is that short for Oswald?”

So focused on the zing he felt at her touch, he missed what she’d said. “Pardon?”

He reluctantly let her hand go and she waved it through the air. “Oz, is it short for Oswald?”

“Oh, um, no. It’s just Oz.”

“So not a nickname?” At his frown, she quickly added, “I only ask because I’ve never met anyone named Oz before.”

Did she hate it? Placing the blame where it solely belonged, he explained, “My mom’s favorite book is The Wizard of Oz and coming from Kansas, well…” He shrugged.

She grinned. “I love that movie. It’s cool your name comes with a story. My mom picked mine from a baby book. But Oz is unique. I like it.”

He was quick to reassure her. “Emerson is pretty.”

A smile lit her face. “Thank you.”

His chest swelled, gloating over the fact he’d made her so happy all from a simple compliment. Then, just as quickly, it deflated when he realized how ridiculous that notion was. My God, it was one smile. He really needed to get a grip on his enthusiasm.

She took another sip of soda and the silence dragged as he struggled for something more to say, wishing he didn’t feel so awkward in these types of situations.

“You’re not a big talker, are you?”

Her question startled him from his musings. This time he didn’t have to think of an answer, but he did still hesitate before replying—not sure if admitting the truth would be the best play to make. From everything that he’d seen, Emerson was socially confident and as that was the complete opposite of himself, it wasn’t something he wanted to willingly verbalize.

He nervously wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans, hedging her question with one of his own to take the conversation off himself. “So… You, uh, own this place?” Having hung on her every word, he recalled her sayingshe was the business owner.

“Yep.” She threw her arms out. “This is my baby. Saved almost ten years for the down payment.” She plucked a fry off his plate, and he pushed it closer to her. “What do you do?” she asked before tossing the fry into her mouth.

His eyes widened at her question. It wasn’t one people usually needed to ask. “I’m a linebacker for the Portland Phantoms.”

Her brow scrunched. “I know I probably shouldn’t admit this to you, but other than knowing football is a sport, I know next to nothing about the game. I have no idea what a linebacker is.”

A chuckle slipped out, but he quickly cut it off, not wanting her to think he was making fun of her. “It’s a position on the defense.” She still looked at sea so he elaborated in layman’s terms, “I help stop the other team from making touchdowns.”

“Ah.” She nodded in understanding.

“You’re not a sports fan?”

“I’m not opposed to sports. I like some. I watch the Olympics every time it comes around, and I played softball until my senior year of high school.”

“But you don’t play anymore?” It was hard not to notice she was in great shape.

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