Page 33 of Tackle

He took her hand and entwined their fingers. “How long until you can leave so I can have you all to myself?”

She looked at the clock on the wall. “Matt should be here in another hour. But Oz, you’re exhausted. I don’t want you waiting on me. You need to go home and rest.”

“What I need is time with you.” He brought her hand up and kissed the inside of her wrist, taking a moment to choose his words carefully. “I’m a methodical man. I’m fast to react on the field because I take my time off of it to study every angle. I invest time in what means something to me and you’re at the top of that list. I know I don't always move at the rest of the world’s pace, but when we’re together, you have my full attention. And when we’re apart, I spend my time missing you. I miss seeing your smile and holding your hand. Kissing your sweet lips.” He rubbed his thumb along the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, catching the strong beat of her pulse. “So if you’rehere, I’m with you.”

The sun was making a gallant effort to stay afloat by the time Oz got Emerson back to his place. He flipped on all the lights to beat the gloom.

Emerson headed for the couch and plopped onto it, patting the cushion to her right. “Come. Sit.” She kicked off her sneakers and planted her heels on the coffee table, crossing her legs. “It feels divine to get off my feet.”

Oz mimicked her moves then picked up the remote, handing it to her and throwing an arm around her shoulders to pull her to his side. Her head fit perfectly under his chin. “You pick tonight.”

Emerson turned on the TV and started flipping through apps. “We still need to finish season two of Big Bang. Sound good?”

“Perfect.” Oz leaned his head back, eyes drooping.

The sound of canned laughter was the last thing he remembered.

Oz’s phone dinged with an incoming text. Fresh from the shower after practice and half dressed, he pulled his t-shirt over his head before reaching for it from his locker and reading it. Then immediately wished he’d hadn’t. His day was continuing as it had started—unexpectedly.

His alarm had startled him from a deep sleep that morning to discover he was still on the couch. His girl was trapped in his arms like he was snuggling a giant teddy bear. He’d fallen asleep five minutes into their date and hadn’t stirred until morning—Casanova, he was not. After a lingering good-bye kiss, Emerson had left to go open the pub, with his promise to meet her there after practice.

But the universe was conspiring against him. The text he’d just received had been from his contractor. He was supposed to have finished the installation of a fireplace in one of Oz’s renovation projects in time for the inspector to arrive that afternoon but, getting sick, he’d had to leave before getting it done. If Oz didn’t go over there and get it finished, he'd need to reschedule the inspection, and waiting for a new appointment would take weeks, putting him way behind schedule.

With no help for it, he texted Emerson.

Hey, beautiful. Slight change of plans. Something’s come up and I can’t make it to the pub. Can you meet me at this address instead?

He attached a link through Google maps, tied up his sneakers, and set out to get his hands dirty.

“Hello?”

Oz was head deep in the chimney when he heard Emerson’s echoed shout. Untangling himself, he stood, swiping his hands on his jeans as he made his way through to the front of the house.

“Hey, beautiful, glad you could make it.”

She was staring. Not at her surroundings, but at his chest, and he remembered he’d taken off his shirt. Oz didn’t gloat about many things, but he took pride in staying fit and knew he looked damn good bare chested. He felt a smile tug at his lips. Guess Emerson thought he did too.

Seeming to come out of her trance, she asked, “What is this place?”

“It’s a project I’m working on. Kind of a hobby. I buy and renovate old homes.”

“Oz Olson, are you trying to tell me you’re like one of those Property Brothers?”

Well, when she put it that way. Feeling a tad embarrassed, Oz replied, a bit sheepishly, “In a sense, I guess you could say that.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.” She finally pulled her gaze from his abs to scan the empty room.

“Come on, I’ll show you around. I have a few minutes before the inspector is due to arrive.”

“Inspector?”

He explained the situation as he gave her a tour, pointing out special features he’d added and what he still planned to do until they came to the master bedroom and the fireplace he’d been working on.

“I’m almost finished with a patch job. It shouldn’t take long.” He squatted in front of the fireplace, feeling the pull as the thighs of his jeans tightened.

“Take your time,” she said, finding a paint bucket to sit on and dragging it to a prime position. “I have no problem sitting here and watching you work.”

He threw her a grin over his shoulder. “I’m afraid it won’t be very entertaining.”

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