Page 77 of Tackle

“No,” she ran her fingers over his jaw. “Why don’t we just go get in bed.”

He smirked. “That’s a good idea too.”

∞ ∞ ∞

Shoving her phone back into her pocket after hanging up with Ivy for the fourth time in the past two hours, Emerson filled a drink order while only half paying attention to the game playing on the TV. Her thoughts were too filled with her friend and her near miss to be nervous—as she usually was—over the outcome. And even with knowing a winning score would send the Phantoms to the Super Bowl, she still couldn’t work up the proper amount of enthusiasm.

A loud cheer filled the pub and Emerson’s gaze moved to the TV. The Phantoms had made another touchdown. And for that she did muster a smile. They now had a two-touchdown cushion. Though that didn’t have her breathing easy. There was still a whole five minutes left on the clock in the last quarter and if there was anything she’d learned about the sport, five minutes in clock time could equal a half hour in real life.

She mixed another drink and slid it to a waiting customer, her eyes barely leaving the screen. The defense was on the field. They needed to keep the other team from making a touchdown. And with Oz’s sack, which had the other team failing to make their downs, they did.

The offense came back on the field and made another touchdown, giving them a twenty-one-point lead. That cinched it.

When the timer ran out, the bar exploded in a clamorous explosion of whoops and hoots.

It was then her stomach did a little flip and a glimmer of excitement and pride filled her, thinking of Oz and how happy he’d be.

The Phantoms were going to the Super Bowl.

∞ ∞ ∞

This time Emerson wasn’t surprised when the following week the health inspectors made a return visit.

A little worried, maybe, but not surprised.

She was behind the bar, taking inventory with Leslie, when they came knocking.

“Ms. Kelly.”

“I think you can start calling me Emerson.” She smiled while nodding at Lopez. “I hope you’re here to tell me good news.”

“Wehavehad an interesting development.”

Emerson’s stomach tightened though she tried to jolly the feeling away with a forced laugh. “Interesting, good or interesting, bad?”

It was Lopez who answered. “A little of both.” His gaze moved to behind the bar and he said, “Maybe we should talk somewhere more private?”

Emerson glanced over her shoulder and saw Leslie still behind the bar but hanging on their every word. “It’s okay. You can speak freely.”

Franks dipped his head in acknowledgement. “We ran samples on all your meat and it came back negative.”

While that was great news, the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. There was still more coming. “I’m assuming that’s the good news, so what’s the bad?”

Franks continued, “When we tried to call the person who made the complaint to see what else they ate around the same time they came to dine here, we discovered they’d given us a false number.”

“So someone made a complaint then gave a fake phone number?” She wasn’t sure why anyone would do that.

“Yes. The number belonged to a John Henson who’s never heard of Mary Montgomery, the name of the complainant. He also lives on the other side of town and has never heard of your restaurant.” He paused for a moment as though hesitating to say something. “This is the second time we’ve been called out in as many months. Both cases, not amounting to much.”

Emerson sucked in a deep breath. “You don’t think I’m responsible?”

Franks raised a reassuring hand. “That’s not what I was getting at.”

“Then what are you implying?”

“I’m saying, it seems suspicious.”

Her first thought was Holly. Was it possible she could do something like that long distance? All it would take was a phone call.

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