Page 89 of Tackle

Oz hated seeing her so melancholy. “Some water? Or I can run across the street and get you a coffee.”

Her eyes brightened a little. “Caramel latte?”

He ran a hand down her cheek. “Anything you want, baby. Relax, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She nodded. “I will, as soon as I call Matt. I need to tell him what happened and ask him to call everyone and tell them not to come in. I’m not sure I have the strength for that many phone calls.”

“Promise me after that, you’ll relax.”

“I will. Promise.”

Planting a hand to the table, he kissed her lips.

When he returned with their coffees, a police officer came over and took their statement. And after that, Oz declared it was time to go home. His girl was beyond exhausted and looked about to collapse.

They’d almost made a clean getaway.

He’d just helped her from the booth when a commotion at the front door had all heads in the room turning.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Like everyone in the room, Emerson’s eyes flew to Britney as she came rushing into the pub. She stopped, head swiveling from one spot to another until she spotted Emerson. Their gazes locked.

“Oh, my God.” Britney came toward her. Her head started shaking. “No. No. No, no, no.” Tears had already started to fall down the girl’s face.

Emerson took a step, using Oz for support. “Britney, what’s wrong?”

“No one was supposed to get hurt.”

“What are you talking about?” Oz demanded.

Britney was sobbing now, her face a blotchy red mess. She swiped an arm under her nose. “He said it was harmless.”

Emerson’s gut tightened. “Who said?”

“Keith. Keith Costello.”

Emerson glanced up at Oz and he minutely shook his head. He didn’t know the guy either. “Who’s Keith Costello?”

“He owns Boom Burgers.”

Emerson connected a face to the name. He was that weaselly looking guy who’d been throwing her dirty looks all day at the food fair. “Keith Costello did this?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Oz signal to the police officer.

Britney violently shook her head, another sob escaping. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It was me.”

Emerson’s eyes widened. In her shock, she took a step back, forgetting about her leg. Pain knifed through her knee and she would’ve fallen had Oz not been supporting her.

“I don’t understand. Why would you do such a thing?” Emerson asked once the pain dulled to a low throb.

Crying uncontrollably, Britney could only manage to shake her head.

“Maybe we should all sit down,” Oz said. “I want you off your leg and I think Britney needs a minute to calm down.”

Still in a state of disbelief, Emerson watched as, after he seated her, Oz stepped over to the officer, saying something, then went behind the bar and came out with a bottle of water. He set it down in front of Britney. She didn’t make a move to open it, but she did cup it in her hands, her thumb toying with the label.

The police officer took position, standing near Britney’s side of the booth while Oz slid in next to Emerson, taking her hand. “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

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