Page 13 of His Pickle Her Jam

Giddiness had me smiling through the pain. That would teach me to work in Crocs.

Whatever.

Crocs were fucking awesome. I was secure enough in my manhood to wear them proudly.

Melanie got me these for Christmas. There were chili peppers all over them. Some sort of chef thing, and I thought they were hilarious.

But really, it was just too hot for sneakers. If I was home, I’d be barefoot. But that wasn’t sanitary inside a commercial kitchen, so I had light athletic ankle socks on with my chef Crocs.

Perfect.

Yes, I was a fucking fashion icon.

I paused, the Swiffer Wet Jet handle in my hand as I pictured my future. It had been a really long time since I felt this kind of excitement over anything.

There was only one hitch in my plans.

One beautiful, curvy, sassy as fuck hitch.

And she just pulled her tiny, slightly dented hatchback into the parking spot right next to my SUV in the store’s lot. The spots were angled side by side, and the window I was standing in front of gave me a perfect view.

I wanted to look away, but there was just no actual way for me to do that. Not with Jan swinging the driver’s side door open so carelessly close to my car.

Yeah, right.

Like that was why I was staring. I could pretend all I wanted in front of people, but the fact was, Jan was just the kind of woman who caught my eye.

She slid out of her seat, wearing another cheerful summer dress. I was sure she wore it because it was loose and light, allowing for maximum air circulation and comfort.

She probably didn’t realize her delicious curves were impossible to hide beneath the thin fabric. Every time she moved, I caught a glimpse of the swell of her breasts, the dip in her waist, the curve of her hip—Jesus fucking Christ, the woman was trying to kill me.

My cock twitched beneath my khaki shorts, and I adjusted myself. Last thing I needed was to sport a woody in front of my nemesis.

Her short hair was in one of those headbands, but her wild curls and waves couldn’t be tamed. A few had escaped the elastic and brushed against the smooth skin of her cheek as she opened the hatchback.

Goddamn.

She was beautiful.

And suddenly, I realized the little hitch in my plans might actually be a bit more complicated than that.

Oh my fuck! Did I like Jan?

I watched her struggle with a huge cardboard box for all of three seconds before my body started to move without permission.

“Let me get that,” I said, jogging to her side, hyperaware of her in a way I never had been before.

“You’re here? Oh, um, you don’t have to?—”

“I got it,” I said, brushing my fingertips across her wrist and hand as I took it from her and gave her my biggest grin.

It was the one most girls called charming, but from the narrowing of her eyes I knew I’d missed the mark.

“Thanks,” she muttered, grabbing one of the smaller boxes and following me inside.

“My pleasure,” I replied, my smile more genuine this time.

And it really was a pleasure. I opened the door and held it back, allowing her to pass first.

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