Page 41 of Tackle

“And you thought it was okay?” Her body was stiff as a board, her tone just as rigid.

“Honestly, my mind was preoccupied with Linc and by the time my brain caught up, she was yanking her top down.”

She was quiet for a few moments, her fingers fiddling with a sugar packet she’d pulled from the container that sat on the table. He didn’t like her silence, hated even more her expression held a note of rare vulnerability and that his actions were the cause of it.

Finally, she let out a long sigh. “Fine. But just so you know, I didn’t like it.”

He took her hand, stilling her nervous movements. “Well, I didn’t like it either.”

He received a snort for that and he couldn’t be certain but maybe an eye roll too. “Yeah, right. You’re a guy. They were boobs.”

“But there’s only one set I’m interested in.”

He finally got her eyes and was relieved to see exasperation had chased away the vulnerability.

He gave her hand a squeeze and reassured, “It won’t happen again.”

She gave him the barest of nods and he leaned in, brushing her lips with his, the knot of tension in his gut unfurling when she didn’t pull away. He ran his nose along her jaw, lightly kissing the sweet spot below her ear before whispering, “Forgive me?”

She dragged it out two long heartbeats, but finally huffed a deep breath. “Yes.” She leaned to the side, catching his gaze. “But be warned, I’m keeping an eye on you.” She tipped her lips into a wry smile.

Her teasing eased the last of his tension and he put the odd encounter out of his mind.

Chapter Fourteen

“Leslie, can you put another case of water in the cooler? I just sold the last bottle.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Leslie scurried off to the van.

They were at the Multnomah County Fare-Fair.Held once a year, it was a huge event where all the local restaurants and eating establishments could show off their food. Booth after booth decorated in colorful banners and signage could be seen for as far as the eye could see. Emerson was super excited because this was her first time attending as a vendor and not as a customer.

Warming up from the cold snap the week before, the sunny, mid-sixties weather was perfect for spending the day cooking outdoors where she and Leslie were alone under their red and gold striped canopy. Matt was back at the pub, running things so it could stay open. But if push had come to shove, Emerson would have gladly closed her doors for the day. The lost revenue would have been worth it. The fair was a great place to drum up business, and with the multiple awards that could be won, the perfect way to gain recognition in the community.

A group of women approached the booth, stopping to read the oversized whiteboard Emerson had set up. Being outdoors and with only the most basic of equipment, she had kept the menu simple—banger, rashers, and Guinness burgers, all sold with a side of champ fries. She had patties waiting in a cooler ready to be thrown onto the portable grill and cut potatoes chilling in a large bowl of ice water ready to be tossed into the fryer.

“What’s a banger burger?” one of the women asked. She was dressed sensibly in leggings and an oversized tee—perfect for a day of eating.

“The patty is made of ground sausage instead of beef.”

“And what about the Guinness burger?” her friend, wearing a matching outfit, asked. “Does it have beer in it?”

Emerson nodded. “Yes. Guinness is mixed into the beef, along with oats, caraway seed, parsley, and thyme.”

“Oh, that sounds good. I’ll have one of those.”

“And I’ll have the banger burger.” Only she pronounced itbang herand her friend giggled.

Emerson hid a grin. That joke never got old.

The rest of the group ordered and Emerson started to grill while Leslie attended to the fries and doctored the buns. Another group arrived soon after that followed by a steady stream.

“Wow, I had no idea this event would be so busy,” Leslie said, throwing another batch of potatoes into the fryer. “I hope we don’t run out of food.”

Having been a few times in years past, Emerson knew to be prepared. “I packed quite a lot in the van, but if we run out, one of us can go to the pub for more supplies.”

Leslie raised her hand. “I volunteer. I don’t want to be left alone here. This place is a madhouse.”

Emerson chuckled, turning back to the grill to flip her burgers.

---