Page 6 of His Pickle Her Jam

I had just closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to focus on the positives when my phone rang. I clicked the little green answer button immediately.

“This is Buck.”

“Mr. Antonetti?”

“Yes, sorry, it’s me,” I said, recognizing the realtor’s voice.

“Mr. Antonetti, Mr. Jones would like you and Miss Morrow to come into my office tomorrow for a virtual conference call. Can you be there at ten?”

“Sure, I can do that. See you then.”

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?

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