Page 53 of Tackle

She clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging in. He didn’t want to stop, but knew they had to.

He told himself, soon.

He broke off the kiss, planting his forehead to hers.

Her fingertips trailed into the long length of his hair. “You make it very hard for a woman to go back to work.”

“And you make it veryhardfor a man. Period.”

She chuckled and that did the trick to break the spell. He helped her down and they walked hand-in-hand into the pub.

“Take a seat and I’ll bring you something.”

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead and made his way to his table.

Head down, answering a text from Linc, Oz heard a throat being cleared. He glanced up to see the woman who’d asked for his autograph a few weeks before. Fucking perfect. “Um, hello…” For the life of him, he couldn’t remember her name.

“Holly,” the woman reminded.

“Right, Holly.” He looked past her to see if he could spot Emerson, but she was nowhere to be seen. “What can I do for you?”

“I have something I want to show you. Look.” She pulled at the neck of her tee to reveal a tattoo of his signature. “No matter how careful I was, the marker started to fade. Even with how nice you are, I knew I couldn’t keep asking you for a new autograph every time it wore away so I thought of a permanent solution. Isn’t it fab?” She beamed her shark grin at him before adding, “I love it.”

There was something a little manic working behind her eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. “That’s, um…” He was at a loss for words. Though, creepy as fuck came to mind.

“Can I ask one more favor, and I promise, this will be the last one.”

“Um, I guess.” Anything to help speed her on her way.

“Great. I meant to ask last time, but that waitress rushed me out too fast.”

“Girlfriend.”

“Huh?” The woman looked perplexed.

“She’s not a waitress but the owner of this establishment and my girlfriend.” Oz wanted to make that clear. Maybe then the woman would get the hint and stop coming back.

“Oh, well.” She went silent for a second, then waved a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

Oz frowned. “What doesn’t matter?”

“Huh?” Obviously, she was having as much trouble following the conversation as Oz was.

He thought it best to move things along so she’d leave. “The favor?” Oz prompted.

“Yes, of course. Just a picture for my scrapbook.”

A picture he could deal with. “Sure.”

“Great!” she squealed, squishing herself next to him in the booth before Oz could make a move to stand.

He wished he’d thought to sit close to the end, filling the empty space.

She held her phone up and out. “Say cheese!”

Just as Oz smiled, the woman planted her lips on his cheek, right at the corner of his mouth and clicked the camera.

What the fuck? Rearing back he shoved the woman at the same time as he heard, “What the hell?”

---