Page 40 of Tackle

Oz shook his head. “Not that Linc mentioned. Honestly, I don’t know if he even knows how to get in touch with them. From what I’ve heard, Jake hadn’t talked to his parents in years.”

Emerson’s brow furrowed. “I wonder why.”

Oz shook his head again. “I have no idea.”

“It’s a sad situation, all around.”

Oz only nodded but he couldn’t agree more.

After a few minutes, lost in thought, he heard Emerson say, “I better get back behind the bar. Are you hungry?” She rolled her eyes and chuckled to herself. Yeah, they both knew the answer to that. He was always hungry. “Mack added a new spin to the banger burger. He topped it with a potato pancake. Want to give it a try?”

Oz was game. “Sure.”

“Okay.” She kissed him on the cheek and stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

On his phone, looking through his messages, hoping he’d gotten more news from Linc, a shadow entered his field of vision. Thinking it was Emerson, he was smiling before he set his phone down. Only it wasn’t Emerson. A twenty-something blonde dressed in a revealing tank top which she filled to overflowing and skin-tight jeans stood, blocking his exit from the booth.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I’m a huge fan and wondered if I could get your autograph.” Her lips were bright red and smiling large enough to show off gleaming white teeth. The smile should have been friendly but it seemed more predatory.

Oz had become a staple at The Parting Glass. From time to time, he’d still get asked for his autograph, but people mostly left him alone now, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere and just happy to hang in the same place he did. That was also true of the paparazzi. The novelty of photographing him eating a hamburger had thankfully worn off.

“Um, sure,” he delivered his natural response to any who asked.

“Great!” She whipped a marker from her back pocket, plopped down onto the seat next to him, and handed it to him.

Before he could ask if she had a piece of paper for him to sign, she flipped her hair back over her shoulders, thrust out her chest, and pulled the top of her tank dangerously low. She pointed to the swell of her left breast. “Right here, please.”

“Um…” Feeling flustered and a bit embarrassed, his eyes darted over the woman’s shoulder before landing back on the spot she pointed to. Aiming a good two inches higher than where she indicated, he scribbled his name as fast as he could and handed the pen back.

“Thank you so much.” She dipped her head and blew on the wet ink.

Oz glanced away to look over her shoulder again. Only this time the spot behind her wasn’t empty. A body filled the space. His eyes traveled up to Emerson’s unhappy expression.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Her lips pursed.

Fuck.

He looked back at the woman. “Well, it was nice meeting you, um…”

“Holly,” she happily filled in.

“Right, Holly, but if you wouldn’t mind,” he made a shooing motion hoping she’d get the hint. He didn’t like being trapped in the booth but other than physically shoving her out, if she didn’t want to move, she wasn’t going to.

Emerson came to his rescue. “I’d be happy to show you to a table or there’re spots at the bar if you’d rather.”

The woman jerked as though startled to discover she and Oz were no longer alone. She turned to Emerson. “Thanks, but I’m good.” Then to Oz’s relief, she stood. “I got what I came in here for.” She turned back to Oz and smiled. “It was nice meeting you too. And thanks again,” her hand moved to her chest, fingering the top of her tank under his signature, “for the autograph.”

She left and both he and Emerson watched her exit the pub.

“Nice penmanship. You sign body parts often?” Emerson asked with a raise of her brow once the door closed behind the woman.

Shit, she was pissed. “Come here.” Oz leaned over, took her hand, and pulled.

“Are you avoiding my question?”

“No. I want you sitting beside me.” She plopped onto the seat, but he noticed she did so reluctantly. “But to answer your question, no, that was a first for me.”

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