Page 24 of His Pickle Her Jam

The woman was a firecracker.

There was no denying it. And to be honest, I adored that particular quality almost as much as I adored her perfect ass.

I was just snapping the seal in place on the tub of my Spicy Bloody Mary Mix Pickles. I’d been making these for the Whiskey Bar for months now, and really, they were some of the best veggies I ever made.

Okra, celery, carrots, pearl onions, and jumbo pitted green olives that I stuffed with Italian long-hots.

A week was a short time to taste test everything, but I’d make it work. My special blend of vinegars, herbs, and spices would get the job done.

“Ouch!”

I closed the door to the walk-in fridge and turned around swiftly.

“What happened?”

“Shit. A staple was sticking out of the bushel. I didn’t see it. Oh my God, I’m gonna be sick,” Jan winced, and I raced over to her.

“Sick?”

“Sorry, I know, I’m such a wimp. I just really don’t like the sight of blood,” she whispered, biting her lip as tears filled her eyes.

“Hey, you’re not a wimp. Come here,” I replied, pulling her into my body.

“Okay, it’s wedged in there good,” I mumbled.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna faint,” she murmured, trembling against me.

“Look, I’m gonna take the staple out of your thumb and walk you over to the sink, okay? Just keep your face right there, Jan Baby. I got you,” I murmured, kissing her head while I gently extracted her thumb from the thick piece of metal.

Jan yelped, burying her face against my chest while I wrapped my left arm around her soft body. Luckily, the staple wasn’t that long, but it was thick, and there was a bit of blood.

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re doing great. I got you,” I repeated, washing her thumb with soap and water before grabbing a bit of antibiotic ointment and a bandage.

“When was your last tetanus shot?” I asked.

“Last year, actually. I stepped on a nail on the boardwalk. Just another example of my amazing good luck. Ugh. You must think I’m so stupid,” she mumbled, and I squeezed her tight.

“Hey, don’t say things like that about yourself, okay? I happen to think you are the smartest, wittiest person I know. No one argues the way you do,” I said, rubbing circles on the wrist of her injured hand.

“Great, so I’m not stupid, I’m just a shrew,” she replied, and I knew she was trying to tease, but it made me irritable.

“That’s it,” I grumbled, leaning back so I could look into her pretty eyes. “I want you to listen up, Jan Baby, and listen good. You’re not stupid, You’re not a shrew. You are the most fucking incredible woman I’ve ever met. Hear me?”

Goddamn it.

I was suddenly so angry. I wanted to find out who was responsible for making her feel this way about herself, and I wanted to tear their fucking heads off.

How dare they?

I knew people could be awful shits. But come on. How could someone so wonderful think such thoughts about themselves?

Sometimes cruelty did a number on you, and the thought of anyone being mean to Jan made me vibrate with anger.

“I, uh, w-what are you talking about?” she asked, eyebrows raised as she leaned back to look at me.

“I’m serious, Jan Baby. And if you need me to tell you that every single day until you believe it, I will.”

The temperature in the well air-conditioned room seemed to go up about ten degrees, and Jan’s soft body was wreaking havoc on mine. But I wasn’t letting her go.

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