Page 19 of His Pickle Her Jam

Fuck.

CHAPTER EIGHT-JAN

Still Day 3 of Block Party Prepping (7 to go)

Shit.

Maybe it was time for me to come clean.

I never told Del what happened the night of her wedding between me and Buck.

“I can’t believe this,” my best friend sputtered ten minutes later. “How could you not tell me?”

“Honestly, there was nothing to tell. We were going at it in the closet, for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t like we were in a relationship. His girlfriend busted in on us, and well, I just thought it was over. A flash in the pan thing. A passion born of forced proximity,” I explained.

“What girlfriend?”

“I don’t know. She was stunning, though,” I confessed.

“I honestly don’t recall who he took to the wedding, but is it possible you misread the situation?”

“I don’t think so, Del. Besides, that was a month ago. He never brought it up or tried to touch me since. I just figured he forgot about it.”

“Well, that did not sound like a man who forgot about it. Can you say possessive?” she teased.

“Oh my God, stop. We both know men don’t get possessive about me,” I replied, shaking my head.

The sound of a truck pulling up caught my attention, and I said a quick goodbye, washed my hands, and went outside to meet it.

Only, I wasn’t the only one there.

Buck was already chatting with the driver and checking off a list as the man unloaded box after box of fresh produce onto a hand truck.

“Excuse me, I believe that’s my delivery,” I said, interrupting the two men and frowning.

“Your delivery? Uh, I don’t think so,” Buck replied, his face scrunched up adorably.

“I placed an order with Kent Global, this is it, right?”

“You did? Oh, um, well, so did I,” Buck said, and dread filled my gut.

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and opened the confirmation email I’d received for my order.

“Here,” I said, showing both Buck and the delivery man.

“No, I believe you, Jan. But look, I placed one too,” he said, and showed me his phone.

Gulp.

“I don’t know, guys. I just take the stuff where they tell me,” the driver said, not pausing as he continued to unload.

“Well, can we just go over my receipt to make sure everything is here?” I asked, using my most professional voice.

“Look, I have three more stops in this heat, and I want to finish them before I melt. I already told you I just deliver what they tell me to. If anything is wrong, you can call the service number,” the man said, and I frowned.

He wasn’t being rude, but still.

“Alright. We can do that man, thank you for your time,” Buck said and handed the guy a crisp twenty.

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