Page 35 of Tackle

“You have a tiny freckle right here.” She reached up and tapped right above his upper lip.

He captured her finger, kissing the tip. “Nice to know you’re paying attention.”

She got lost in the deep green of his eyes. Swallowing, she softly said, “Don’t worry, your secret identity’s safe with me.”

He took a step closer, totally obliterating the space between them. Emerson was average at five-foot-five, but Oz’s six-foot-four frame towered over her. She tipped her head back, not wanting to break contact with his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.”

His head lowered, canting to the side. But before he could kiss her, the line moved, popping their intimate bubble.

“Save that thought,” Emerson said as they moved forward.

“Don’t worry, that’s a thought that never leaves my mind.”

She gave him a big grin. “Nice to know you’re paying attention.”

They reached the front of the line and ducked through the cobwebbed entrance of the haunted house and into a room that was pitch black. Emerson felt Oz’s grip on her hand tighten.

“You’re not afraid of the dark are you?” she teased.

“More afraid oflosingyou in the dark.”

A strobe light flashed as they inched forward and Emerson could just catch glances of things darting about.

A chainsaw roared to life somewhere close, making her jump and she laughed. “Shit, that startled me.” She suddenly didn’t mind that Oz had a death grip on her hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” Oz growled close to her ear.

Going down a hall, moans and groans echoed around them. They came to another room and it took a moment for Emerson’s eyes to adjust to the light. She blinked to see a stage was set—a man lying on an operating table, his chest open, revealing his heart which gushed blood every time it pumped. It was extremely realistic.

“Gross.” Emerson wrinkled her nose.

A man appeared through a door, his white doctor’s coat covered in gore. “Now, for the final piece that will make my experiment a success!”

He grabbed hold of the guy’s heart and ripped it out. Blood sprayed everywhere. She felt droplets hit her face and she swatted at them.

She heard Oz’s chuckle and looked over.

“It’s only water.” He pointed to the ceiling.

Emerson glanced up, and sure enough, a sprinkler system was overhead, still dripping water.

A ghostly figure appeared at the door, beckoning them out of the room. “Follow me.” She waved a hand, the long, billowy sleeve of her white gown swaying.

Oz leaned down and spoke into her ear. “This is the part in horror movies when everything goes to shit.”

Emerson chuckled. He wasn’t wrong.

They came upon a mist-shrouded graveyard.

“I wonder how they make the smoke?” Oz pulled out his phone and shined the flashlight on the floor.

“No flash photography,” the ghostly woman said from the other side of the room.

“Put that away.” Emerson tugged on his hand. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

They moved forward, Emerson reading headstones. She chuckled and pointed, “Look at that one.”

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