Page 7 of His Pickle Her Jam

The man was a bartender, and I’d heard just about every rumor a person could hear about them. Being an easy conversationalist was just one job qualification. The other was being a flirt.

Maybe David just liked to tease. No way he was really interested in me. Well, except for that one time, but even then he’d been two-timing his date.

And I didn’t go out with cheaters. So cute or not, I steeled myself against his boyish charm and smoldering good looks and tried to remain unaffected.

No, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

David grabbed a napkin and deposited the rest of his cookie into it before turning to the sharp-nosed receptionist.

“Maybe tell your boss to order cookies from a local vendor instead. They’d be fresher and less bitter. But maybe that part has more to do with the company. Excuse us,” he said, controlled anger lacing his words.

David slid the hand that formerly held his cookie to my hip and gently guided me back to the waiting area.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding sincere.

“What? Oh yeah. That’s not the first time someone was rude to me about my appearance, and I doubt it’ll be the last,” I murmured, trying to acknowledge the hurt while healing it at the same time.

That was a little trick a camp counselor taught me years ago when I’d been a chubby tween. I didn’t like getting picked on, but I also wasn’t going to change myself to suit the needs of others.

“For the record, there isn’t a single thing wrong with your appearance, Jan. You’re a fucking knockout.”

My heart fluttered inside my chest, and I knew I needed a moment alone before I did something truly foolish.

Like throwing myself in his arms just to thank him for his kindness.

“Thank you, David,” I said softly.

His eyes widened, and I grimaced. Shit, I should not have used his real name. True, it was infinitely better than that nickname, but he wasn’t my friend. I shouldn’t be so familiar with him.

Truth was, he wasn’t my anything.

The man was a total jerk despite these random acts of kindness. A nightmare, really. He was opinionated and highhanded. A spoiled rich kid who never grew out of his boyish good looks and tendencies to flit from woman to woman without consequence.

David, no, Buck and I had been verbally sparring since we met several months ago, and after working together on Sonny and Delani’s whirlwind wedding, I thought maybe we’d had a truce going.

How we wound up getting all the way to third base in the closet during the reception, I didn’t really know.

I’d blame it on the alcohol, but I wasn’t drunk. Besides, I was thirty-two, and that was plenty old enough to take responsibility for my actions.

I didn’t need excuses. Women had needs, too. And I was definitely a woman. Besides, he was hot.

Like smoking hot.

He was also smart, talented, sweet when he wanted to be, and arrogant enough to check off my inner cave woman’s need for a dominant male. I was all for feminism, but I couldn’t help but get turned on when a man was all bossy in bed or, er, closet.

But hot or not, I wouldn’t be anyone’s second choice. When that tall brunette had come looking for him, well, that was enough of a warning for me.

A girl had to have standards, and if that meant a long, grueling dry spell, then so be it.

But I wasn’t there to get into any hanky-panky with Buckeroo. I was there to win. And he wasn’t there to smooth talk me into the nearest bed. He was there to steal the storefront I’d picked out for my shop.

Best I remembered that.

After Delani’s success with her chocolate store, I’d been itching to increase Jan’s Jellies & Jams. I already had an online presence and attended local farmer’s markets seasonally.

But I wanted to go bigger. I needed to. And Buck wasn’t going to get me to drop my guard with a few nice words.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, and practically jogged to the restroom.

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