Page 68 of Tackle

“I think you lied about not being good with kids,” Emerson said in the elevator as they made their way down to leave.

Oz shook his head. “I think you’re right, she just needs a distraction.”

A line appeared between her brows. “I’m concerned she’s not speaking. I don’t know anything about childhood trauma, but even I know that’s never a good sign.”

Oz pulled her into his arms. “I’ll convince him to get her some help, sooner rather than later.”

Placing a hand on his chest, she got to her tiptoes and placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “You’re a good friend.”

He leaned his head down, about to kiss her, when the elevator doors opened. “Lousy timing,” he growled.

“We can always hurry home and pick up where we left off.”

Oz booked it to the SUV, dragging a laughing Emerson after him.

Chapter Twenty-two

Scurrying around the kitchen, carols playing through the speakers, Emerson rushed to get everything plated while it was still hot. She wanted to impress. It was the first time she’d ever cooked someone breakfast on Christmas morning. With her family’s long-standing tradition of celebrating the holiday on the eve, usually, she spent the day alone.

She’d closed the pub early the day before and had a small party where she had handed out gift cards to her employees, after which she’d met Oz at home and together they’d left for her parents’. Yesterday had been for family and friends, today was for her and Oz.

Pulling the steaming frittata out of the oven, she placed it as the centerpiece on the breakfast bar already laden with food. She looked at all of it with a slight grimace. Oz could eat, but she might have gone a tad bit overboard, even for him.

She rounded the island to tell Oz breakfast was ready, only to stop short when she spotted him on the couch. He’d pulled the coffee table close and was hovered over it, hair held back from his face with a band, a pair of tweezers in hand, working on the intricate model lying before him.

A warmth filled her.

He liked her present.

It had felt like fate when she stumbled upon it. Rushing through the jammed-packed department store on her way to the mens’ section to find a gift for her dad, she’d stopped in her tracks when a display table piled with boxes had caught her eye. Architectural model building kits, each one themed around a different famous structure, were stacked to appeal to the impulse buyer. One depicting Fallingwater, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, had particularly caught her notice. It was stunning. It was also way too expensive for her already tight budget but that hadn’t stopped her from snatching it up. Because she knew Oz would love it.

“Breakfast is ready,” she said softly, not wanting to startle him, so engrossed in his task.

His head popped up and he smiled. “It smells delicious. My stomach’s been growling for the past half hour. Let me just lay this piece before the glue dries.”

“Take your time.” Her eyes drifted to the side chair and the cashmere robe draped across it. Sapphire blue, it was one of the softest things she had ever felt and when she’d pulled it out of the box, she hadn’t waited to put it on, snuggling inside it. Only the prospect of damaging it while cooking had been motivation for its removal.

Oz stood, skirting the table, stopping on his way to her to reach for something under the tree.

“One last thing to make Christmas complete.” He handed her a small, white paper bag.

She peeked inside and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe tied with a red ribbon.

Taking it from her, he walked her to the nearest open doorway and attached it to the jamb over her head, taking her into his arms. “Merry Christmas, beautiful.”

His lips found hers, and yes, her Christmas was very merry.

∞ ∞ ∞

After two weeks with no further incidents from Holly, Emerson had been lulled into a false sense of security.

Her morning had started off normally for a Thursday. Oz’s alarm had gone off at six. She’d dozed while he took a shower, jumping in next when he went to the kitchen to do his morning shake thing. He’d given her his usual kiss goodbye, and she’d been out the door soon after.

She was loving her temporary living arrangements. Not only did she take great pleasure from having hands-on access to Oz, but her morning drive was reduced by half, and she’d breezed into the parking lot of The Parting Glass in under ten minutes flat with Hank, her security detail, following closely behind as he’d been all previous mornings.

Where things had taken a turn was when Emerson walked into the pub.

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