His Pickle Her Jam (Cherry On Top Tales #4)

Chapter Two-Jan

Ifidgeted with the hem of my dress. It was late July, and we were in the middle of an uncomfortable heatwave, and dresses were the only thing I could stand to wear at the moment.

I was short and chubby, a size sixteen on a good day and five foot three, if even that. I had my hair cut and dyed recently, adding blonde highlights to the light brown locks, and taking off some of the weight to encourage my natural curls.

It was just above my shoulders now, making it too short to put into a ponytail, but I could still wear a headband, which I was. It was hot.

Even in the air-conditioned waiting room at the realtor’s office, I could still feel the heat clinging to my skin. I received a disapproving look from one of the receptionists. She was older, very thin, and seemed to take issue with the fact I was sitting there sipping on my iced mocha latte and enjoying one of the cookies they had on the table for clients.

I’d skipped breakfast because of my hair appointment, and I was hungry. Yes, I ate cookies. I wasn’t going to apologize for it, and if she didn’t like it, she could turn around. Or better yet, have one herself.

“Would you like one?” I asked, standing up and lifting the small tray.

“What are you doing?”

“Just offering you a cookie,” I said, smiling.

The bell above the door rang, but I didn’t turn around. My focus was on the nasty-faced woman who was frowning at me.

“Put those down, thank you very much. We offer those for clients who could actually use something sweet,” she snarked, looking at my not so small waist pointedly. “Others would do better to resist the temptation.”

Okay, so what started out as me teasing the strange woman for giving me dirty looks actually ended with her being downright rude and hurtful.

I was stunned. I’d never really encountered someone who was so blatantly cruel. And to a potential customer.

Did people really behave this way?

My eyes were wide, frozen somewhere between shock and awe.

“Are those cookies?” a familiar voice said from right behind me, and I startled.

Big hands reached around me, steadying the plate, and I was surrounded by a deliciously masculine scent I recognized as uniquely belonging to the bane of my existence.

David Antonetti. He was a full grown ass man who went by the name Buck and was too damn cute for his and my own good.

He took the plate from my shaking hands and took two cookies from it, offering me one, before popping one in his mouth.

“These are pretty good, but I think you’ve made better,” he said to me.

I was so surprised I had no response other than a sputtering, “I didn’t make them. They were here.”

“That explains why they suck then, doesn’t it, Pretty Girl?” he murmured, his dark eyes on me before he flicked his glance to the receptionist.

I was terrible at reading men, and with David, well, I never knew where I stood.

Was he flirting? Or did he give that intense stare to everyone he talked to?

The man was a bartender, and I’d heard just about every rumor a person could hear about them. Being an easy conversationalist was just one job qualification. The other was being a flirt.

Maybe David just liked to tease. No way he was really interested in me. Well, except for that one time, but even then he’d been two-timing his date.

And I didn’t go out with cheaters. So cute or not, I steeled myself against his boyish charm and smoldering good looks and tried to remain unaffected.

No, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

David grabbed a napkin and deposited the rest of his cookie into it before turning to the sharp-nosed receptionist.

“Maybe tell your boss to order cookies from a local vendor instead. They’d be fresher and less bitter. But maybe that part has more to do with the company. Excuse us,” he said, controlled anger lacing his words.

David slid the hand that formerly held his cookie to my hip and gently guided me back to the waiting area.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding sincere.

“What? Oh yeah. That’s not the first time someone was rude to me about my appearance, and I doubt it’ll be the last,” I murmured, trying to acknowledge the hurt while healing it at the same time.

That was a little trick a camp counselor taught me years ago when I’d been a chubby tween. I didn’t like getting picked on, but I also wasn’t going to change myself to suit the needs of others.

“For the record, there isn’t a single thing wrong with your appearance, Jan. You’re a fucking knockout.”

My heart fluttered inside my chest, and I knew I needed a moment alone before I did something truly foolish.

Like throwing myself in his arms just to thank him for his kindness.

“Thank you, David,” I said softly.

His eyes widened, and I grimaced. Shit, I should not have used his real name. True, it was infinitely better than that nickname, but he wasn’t my friend. I shouldn’t be so familiar with him.

Truth was, he wasn’t my anything.

The man was a total jerk despite these random acts of kindness. A nightmare, really. He was opinionated and highhanded. A spoiled rich kid who never grew out of his boyish good looks and tendencies to flit from woman to woman without consequence.

David, no, Buck and I had been verbally sparring since we met several months ago, and after working together on Sonny and Delani’s whirlwind wedding, I thought maybe we’d had a truce going.

How we wound up getting all the way to third base in the closet during the reception, I didn’t really know.

I’d blame it on the alcohol, but I wasn’t drunk. Besides, I was thirty-two, and that was plenty old enough to take responsibility for my actions.

I didn’t need excuses. Women had needs, too. And I was definitely a woman. Besides, he was hot.

Like smoking hot.

He was also smart, talented, sweet when he wanted to be, and arrogant enough to check off my inner cave woman’s need for a dominant male. I was all for feminism, but I couldn’t help but get turned on when a man was all bossy in bed or, er, closet.

But hot or not, I wouldn’t be anyone’s second choice. When that tall brunette had come looking for him, well, that was enough of a warning for me.

A girl had to have standards, and if that meant a long, grueling dry spell, then so be it.

But I wasn’t there to get into any hanky-panky with Buckeroo. I was there to win. And he wasn’t there to smooth talk me into the nearest bed. He was there to steal the storefront I’d picked out for my shop.

Best I remembered that.

After Delani’s success with her chocolate store, I’d been itching to increase Jan’s Jellies & Jams. I already had an online presence and attended local farmer’s markets seasonally.

But I wanted to go bigger. I needed to. And Buck wasn’t going to get me to drop my guard with a few nice words.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, and practically jogged to the restroom.

A little water on my cheeks and a stern pep talk to myself later and I was ready to face Mrs. Montgomery, her nasty receptionist, and him.

“You ready?” Buck asked, standing outside the restrooms.

“Were you waiting for me?” I asked.

“Uh, just come on,” he mumbled.

Buck cupped the back of his neck, giving me a half shrug before gesturing to Mrs. Montgomery’s office. I pretended not to notice the way his light blue t-shirt tightened over his pecs and biceps, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of the rippled muscles I knew he had beneath his clothes.

I huffed out a breath, earning me another inquisitive look, but I just ignored him. It was my go to those days.

Pretend the hot boy doesn’t exist.

That was my motto. Yup.

I walked past the empty receptionist’s desk without pause and into Mrs. Montgomery’s office. The woman herself was standing inside, and she looked vaguely uncomfortable.

Uh oh. Mr. Jones rejected my offer.

At least, that was my first thought until she opened her mouth.

“Miss Morrow, I wanted to apologize for my receptionist’s behavior. She is a new hire, not that it’s any excuse for being rude to a client or anyone, really. Anyway, I hope you’re both still willing to work with Montgomery Real Estate in handling this matter, but of course, you are welcome to find another realtor if that makes you more comfortable?—”

“Whoa, slow down, what are we talking about? Oh!”

Realization dawned, and I tilted my head back and to the side, staring at him with my eyes so wide I was surprised they didn’t pop out of my head.

Did he? Had he actually complained about that horrid woman? And if he did, then why?

No, it was impossible.

But as I stood there looking at his serious mien, I realized he must have said something. He was studying Mrs. Montgomery as if to gauge her sincerity before looking at me.

“Are you okay if we keep our business here?” he asked me.

Heat sizzled through my veins, and I bit my lip. Not only had he stuck up for me with that nasty receptionist, but he apparently brought it right to Mrs. Montgomery, the owner of the real estate firm handling the property.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine. Thank you,” I said, looking directly at him.

No one had ever really stuck up for me before. Unfortunately, being nasty to someone because they were fat was still acceptable to most of society.

The world just wasn’t kind to someone carrying more weight than was deemed fit or proper. I was a big girl. Always had been, always would be.

Yes, I ate healthy foods and loved fresh produce and greens. But I also had the occasional cookie or sweet. And yeah, I enjoyed bread and pasta.

I liked myself the way I was, and anyone who had issues with it, well, those were their issues, not mine.

But I was grateful for him right then. Really, I was, and I wanted him to know I meant it.

I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. A shock raced up my arm and I gasped, looking down at where his big, tanned hand still clasped mine. David’s dark gaze zeroed in on me, and my mouth went dry.

“No problem, Pretty Girl,” he whispered.

“Great! Why don’t you have a seat, and I will get Mr. Jones on the line,” she replied and gave us a toothy smile.