Page 34 of His Pickle Her Jam

But then I thought of Jan. Her bouncy walk, that sweet smile, her amber eyes, and sassy little mouth.

Yeah. I loved her.

Shit.

I loved her a lot.

Elation filled me and I felt dizzy with it. I had to steady myself with two hands on the bar. I never thought that would happen for me. I never wanted to open myself up to that kind of thing.

It suggested a permanence I’d never been inclined to desire. But with Jan, I was inclined. More than that, I was determined.

Iwanted her so damn much. Needed to keep her with me. Always.

There was just something so right about having her inside my home, in my bed. Images of last night flitted through my mind, and with each one that warm feeling inside my chest grew bigger and bigger.

We’d started out grilling on the patio. Jan had stripped down to her panties and bra and went for a dip, while I slapped the steaks on.

We both wanted them rare, so even though I jumped in the pool after her, I had no time for what I’d really wanted to do.

But I also couldn’t leave her in there untouched, so I stole a kiss and hopped out to tend to dinner, allowing her to cool off and backstroke across the water.

Fuck, she’d looked divine.

Her white cotton underthings did nothing to hide her gorgeous body from me, and really, I was so damn proud of her for not being shy anymore.

My woman was gorgeous, and I wanted her like I never wanted anyone else in my entire life.

And it was equal parts terrifying, and more freeing than anything I’d experienced.

So, yeah, when Sonny asked me to come in, I jumped on it.

“Glad to hear it. Del’s coming by in a little while with Jan. They’re gonna grab some appetizers and chill while I finish up some paperwork,” he said, and I froze.

When the fuck had that happened? I didn’t know Jan was coming to the bar.

I frowned, glancing around at the usual crowd. Suddenly uneasy.

The Whiskey Bar was popular with people thirty and older, which was good, because I rarely had to give anyone a hard time about carding them.

Sonny allowed local talent to play occasionally, but he was more a rock and roll kind of guy, and the clientele didn’t seem to mind. That meant no twenty-somethings drinking and starting shit, which was also good.

I wasn’t knocking younger dudes. Hell, I used to be them.

I loved going out, partying with my friends, picking up girls, and dancing till dawn.

But I was older now, and I appreciated a more staid group of people. Especially when I was working. And most especially when my woman was going to be around them.

“Irene, you remember how to use the smoker?” I asked one of the new bartenders.

A customer just ordered a smoked old fashioned, and her face had blanched. She looked at me and shook her head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you.”

“Thanks, Buck!” Irene shouted over the din of people and music.

She was a nice enough woman. In her early forties, married with three kids, just trying to make ends meet by picking up bartending shifts on the weekends.

We found our rhythm after thirty minutes or so. The bar was getting kind of crowded, lots of businessmen looking to unwind after their work week.

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