Big Pickle, page 11
Jason stares at the page a moment longer. “Not yet. But I’ll admit this much. One of the reasons I came here was to see if I could turn the ship around.” He sets the pages back on the desk. “The family will be so grateful to you for figuring this out. It’s been a great mystery.”
I push back in my chair, giving me some distance from this guy. Who is he, really? “I don’t understand.”
“This is Jace Pickle’s fault.” Jason’s mouth turns down into a grimace. “If he’d have paid more attention, he would’ve seen these changes. I think the family is indebted to you.”
“Was this why you sneaked into the office that time?” Things start to fall into place. How he got in there. And why Jace was so anxious for me to keep him here.
“We weren’t sure what we were dealing with down here,” Jason says. “But you figured it out.”
He’s right. I did. “I couldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been given manager status. I didn’t have the access before.”
“That was the smartest thing they did,” Jason says. “And you’re perfect as manager. The crew loves you. This place runs smoothly. Now that we’ve figured out where we were leaking money, I think the deli will be very successful.”
His face is so earnest as he looks at me, I believe every word he says. It’s clearly the truth. But my stomach sinks. “Does this mean you’re going to leave now?”
Jason fiddles with the papers. “I don’t think we’re quite done yet. If the money kept going missing after Susan left, she had someone helping her. Someone who could still be on staff.”
I nod. “I thought I was going crazy. That I didn’t understand something. I—”
Ugh. I hate to admit this.
“What?”
“You might not be so impressed with me after I say this.”
“Unlikely.”
“Well, on that first day, you know I gave Lamonte money to buy pickles. It took a while before I got everything straightened out and could stop using cash. I had to get on the bank account. Get Audra—Jace Pickle’s assistant—to have me authorized to make deposits and deal with the bank.”
“Okay. What’s wrong with that?”
“Before I could enter expenses myself, I had to keep sticky notes. So, in the last couple of weeks, I’ve been going crazy trying to balance all the cash.”
“You think cash is still going missing?”
“I thought maybe I’d done things and forgotten to write them down. But we’re still short cash.”
“You think someone is stealing?”
“Yes. It’s not the even five hundred like it was before. I guess when you fired Susan, she got cut off from however she was getting it.”
“But it’s still going missing?”
I nod. “I can change procedure. I could make a deposit every day after I take it from the register. To ensure no one’s getting in here.”
Jason nods. “That sounds like a good plan eventually. But right now, we want to keep everything the same, so they won’t know we’re on to them. Maybe set up a security camera.”
“That could catch them.”
“But anyone can get into the register.”
I suck in a breath. “Do you think I’m part of this?”
Jason reaches out to lay his hand on my arm. “No. I don’t think that at all. In fact, I think you’re the only reason the ship has held together all these months.”
I relax against the chair. Jason withdraws his hand, and my heart hammers painfully. I liked it there.
He stands. “Maybe we should check the safe. See if there’s anything obvious. Where is it?”
“It’s hidden in a cabinet in the kitchen. Being one of the cash register operators, I had access to it even before Susan took off. Sometimes we need change in the middle of the day.”
I snatch up my keys and we head into the kitchen. It’s dim, and also quiet; so different from normal working hours. I flip on the overhead, and the stainless-steel shines in the brightness.
“Over here.” I lead him to the corner and shove a key into a wood cabinet.
Inside are shelves stacked with customer T-shirts and hoodies with the Pickle logo. People can buy them as souvenirs. One says, “I’m apparently a really big dill.” Another one says, “I’m done dillin’ with you.”
Beneath them lies a false drawer. When I unlock it, the front facade swings open.
The metal safe fills the space. I quickly dial in the combination and pull open the door. Inside, the cash from this week is exactly where I left it in its locked zipper bag.
“Should we count it?” I ask. “It’s lying exactly the way I left it.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Jason says. “We’ll eventually want to change the combination, though.”
“I agree. If Susan left her key and the combination, anybody could be getting in here.”
“I’d like to see the desserts,” Jason says. “Are we talking a few extra? A few cases?”
I laugh. “Oh, no. Have you not gone into JP?”
“No. I haven’t had any reason to.”
“Prepare yourself for sugar overload.”
I lock up the cabinet. The walk-in freezer is built in the far corner past the sinks. When I open the heavy steel door, a rush of cold blows the loose tendrils of hair away from my face.
When I turn sideways to step inside, Jason’s eyes are on my boobs again.
Headlights. I know. Jason is definitely a nipple man.
“We’re going to have to squeeze,” I warn him. “It’s wall-to-wall desserts in here.”
All the shelves inside are packed floor-to-ceiling with crates of cheesecakes, tortes, chocolate cakes, and key lime pies, our signature desserts.
“What the hell,” Jason breathes.
I take careful steps to the back of the freezer to avoid bumping my bare legs against the frosty crates. There’s only a narrow aisle, about two feet wide, between the boxes stacked in front of the shelves. They reach shoulder-high. Thankfully, I stopped the deliveries before our game of cheesecake Tetris reached all the way to the door.
Jason follows me in. The room dims as the door clicks closed. Only a bare bulb illuminates the space, the light mostly blocked by boxes.
“We won’t get locked in?”
“No, it opens from the inside.”
He glances around. “This looks like a year’s worth of desserts.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you gonna do with all these?”
I shrug. “Some probably need to be tossed. I’ve been thinking about some specials, but honestly, between trying to figure out these books, and certain annoying unpaid employees who need training, I haven’t had time to come up with anything.”
He steps closer. “I’m annoying?”
We’re only a foot apart. My temperature has already fallen in the cold and I shiver. “You have to admit, you were pretty terrible at first.”
“And now?”
I cross my arms in front of my belly. “I can ‘dill’ with you.”
He laughs. “Did you just make a pickle pun?”
“It wasn’t kosher?”
“Only if you’re gherkin my chain.”
Our laughter echoes off the boxes. My arms are cold, but inside I’m radiating heat that stops my shivers. Jason has never been this close.
But I want him closer. I want to kiss him. He’s probably going to leave now that we’ve figured things out, and I don’t want him to go without knowing what his lips feel like.
“I think you’re cold,” he says.
My throat catches. “I am, a little.”
“Should we head out, or…”
“Or?” I hold his gaze. “Maybe I might relish a little warmth.”
That’s enough for him. Jason comes at me like a jaguar on prey. His arms draw me close, and my breasts flatten against his firm chest. His mouth claims mine, and there is no doubt he’s wanted this for a while. His kiss is hungry, fervent, and hot.
I unravel my arms from my belly and wrap them around his back. He’s the only warm thing in this frozen place.
I’m lost. I’m thrilled. My insides sing.
His tongue slides along my lips, and I take him in greedily. My heart beats not only in my chest, but also in my throat and thickly between my legs.
His hands rove down my back, finding new spots to warm. I can’t get enough of him, wanting his body closer, then closer still.
One of the straps of my top fall down my shoulder. Jason groans against my mouth. “I can’t resist this.” His lips are impossibly warm as he makes his way down my jaw, kissing my collarbone, his tongue sliding along the swell of my breast, pushing the red cotton tank down.
My nipple puckers tightly at the cold, but quickly relaxes, warm with his mouth on me. I clutch at him, dizzy from the cold and the heat at the same time.
This is what I’ve wanted since that morning we made bread.
It got so much stronger when I saw him with my sister.
And in the euphoria of solving the mystery of the accounting books, I’m finally getting it.
His hand presses my breast up so he can take it more fully into his mouth. I wrap my arm around his head, drawing him close to me. My hip brushes against one of the boxes, covered in frost, and I realize I’m stuck.
“Jason?”
He murmurs against my breast. “Yes?”
“I think I’m attached to one of the boxes.”
He pulls away. “What?”
I shift away from the stack, but my red shirt still sticks to the crate.
“I guess I melted the frost,” I say with a laugh.
“I’d make a terrible pun, but I just want you in my mouth again.”
Desire darts through me like a lightning strike.
“I guess we can take this outside the freezer?” I don’t want to stop either. I feel painfully alive, like someone injected a fiery elixir into my veins.
Jason grabs the hem of my shirt and warms it with his hand until it comes away from the box.
“My hero.”
He stares at my face. “This is probably a bad idea.” But even as he says it, his hand covers my naked breast to protect it from the cold, and I melt into him.
Our lips lock together, the fever not broken, but stronger, hotter.
But he’s right. He is my employee.
My heart sinks, and I pull away. “Is it because I’m your boss?”
He goes still. “I don’t know.” His forehead lands on my shoulder. “Shit.”
He lowers his hand. My breast puckers painfully in the sudden cold, so I lift my shirt back to cover it.
Jason steps away, and it’s as if my whole body has turned to ice.
“I guess we should probably get out of the freezer,” he says.
I have to swallow hard to reply. “Probably.”
He leads us out of JP, and I’m careful not to brush any more of the crates.
“I think we should think this through,” he says carefully, his eyes looking anywhere but at me.
“Are you going to leave?” I grasp the edge of the mixing table, trying to keep my voice level, but inside, the glow is slowly fading out.
He shakes his head. “I’d like to stay until we catch the crook.”
I nod. “I’ll try to get exact numbers on how much cash has gone missing.”
He nods. “If you want, we can ask Audra. She’s great at crunching data.”
My head snaps up. “You know Jace Pickle’s assistant?”
He hesitates, and my suspicion rises again.
“I’m pretty tight with the Pickles.” He grimaces. “I should go.”
After the back door opens and shuts, and the kitchen has gone quiet, I sit in my desk chair and pick up the heart glasses. I feel bereft, as if I’d found something wonderful only to have it snatched away.
It’s wrong. I am his boss.
Sort of.
He knows this. Is that why he held back?
But Jason can walk away at any time. His closeness to the Pickles means I can’t do anything to him.
Surely, we could give this a try.
As I revisit that moment in the freezer, I know I’ve never felt as intensely as I do for him.
So, for once, I’m going to do absolutely the wrong thing.
It might not last.
It might be a one-off dalliance for him.
But I’m going to do it.
I’m going to make Jason Packwood mine.
19
Jace
I am so incredibly fucked.
On Monday morning, I know I’m supposed to go in at seven, like I have every morning since I started baking bread with Nova.
It’s a time I look forward to. Rolling dough. Telling stupid pickle jokes. And laughing with her before the rest of the crew comes in.
But it’s six forty-five, and I should be walking out the door of my apartment.
I can’t do it.
I just can’t. She doesn’t know I’m Jace Pickle. That I had my brother talk to her pretending to be me. That Audra is my assistant. That every time she writes me it goes to the number on my iPad and not my real phone.
It’s all a lie.
Would she have gone into the freezer and melted the frost on the cheesecake box if she had known who I was?
I don’t know.
I don’t know how to handle this.
I’m in the middle of this terrible angry rant with myself when I realize, I’ve left the condo.
I’m in my car.
I’m driving.
I’ve been so in my head that my body has decided screw this, bozo, let’s get to work.
I park the car and try to figure out what to do. Go in? Call and quit? What do I say to her after yesterday?
I can still feel her body in my hands. I can taste the sweet nub of her nipple in my mouth.
So, here’s the real problem.
I want her again. I want her badly. But I can’t.
It’s unethical.
It’s a lie.
Maybe I can come clean. I can tell her I’m Jace Pickle. I’m the asshole. I’m the one who wasn’t there for the crew, for the deli, for her.
I start walking toward my deli with a new sense of determination.
That’s what I’ll do.
I’ll tell her and face the music.
If she throws me out, she throws me out.
But if she doesn’t…
Maybe we have a shot.
I won’t wait for us to start baking the bread. I won’t do anything other than walk straight in there and tell Nova Strong I’m Jace. That I have two names. That both of us are me.
And that I think she’s incredible and smart, and I don’t think this deli would be any good without her. And I want to take her on a proper date.
And as soon as she’s willing, consenting, and dying for me as much as I’m dying for her, I’ll strip her naked, throw her on my bed, and ravish her until we collapse from exhaustion.
And then do it again.
I don’t realize how fast I’m moving until I’m already at the back door of the kitchen.
I take a deep breath. I’m Jace fucking Pickle, part of the Pickle Deli Dynasty. I can do this.
We’re good together. I can show her that. I will do whatever it takes.
I open the door.
Nova is inside, setting out shiny metal bowls on the main work table.
When I step through the door, her hands go still. She doesn’t look at me.
Is she upset at me?
I did walk away from her in the freezer.
I have to fix this.
There are so many things I want to be my first line.
That I’m crazy about her.
Crazy for her.
That I only walked away because I felt I had to.
But these have been the best weeks of my life.
And I want to stay in Austin.
For her.
But I know I can’t say any of those things.
Not yet.
I have to say only these words: I am Jace Pickle. I own this deli.
I shove my keys in my pocket and walk slowly across the tile floor to stand next to her.
She’s wearing the little black tank top that I noticed on the first day I worked here. I try not to stare at her body, those perfect uplifted breasts, that sweet curve of hips.
They’re not mine to look at. Not yet.
Maybe when I say these things, I’ll be able to move toward that goal. To have her be mine. To be with me. At least to try.
The silence has gone on too long. She’s turning her head to me, a question.
“Jason—”
“Nova—”
The moment is so intense, and our simultaneous starts so forlorn, that neither of us can help it.
We burst out laughing.
We laugh long and hard, like that day with the flour. We laugh until our eyes are wet. It’s the best laughter I’ve ever felt. I know it means we will be okay.
Nova holds her belly. “I can’t stop.”
I take a deep breath. It’s hard to start my speech with this going on.
But I grab her shoulders and force her to stand up and look at me.
“Nova, I have to talk to you.”
“Me too.”
We stare at each other and the laughter dies completely away. I’m ready to start my confession, but then Nova knocks me backward, her arms around my neck, pulling me down so she can reach my mouth.
And she’s kissing me with all the passion and fervor I’ve ever dreamed of. There’s no cool society girl in this woman. She knows what she wants. And she’s going for it.
And it’s me. I lift her against my body, pulling up her thighs to circle my waist. She locks her legs around me, and I clutch her sweet ass, finally, in my hands.
Her fingers are in my hair, on my shoulders, my back. She clings to me, and I turn so she sits on the mixing table.
Our mouths melt together, sweet and hot. She tastes of coffee and sugar and good mornings. I could revel in those flavors every day for the rest of my life.
Her hair is down, and I sink my hands into those thick, silky locks. I clutch her head and press her tight against me, my tongue reacquainting itself with every sweet part of her mouth.
She grasps the hem of my shirt and pushes it up, her hands sliding along my ribs and chest.
