get to my car. I’ve secured a cleaning company temporarily, so at least I won’t have to do this again tomorrow.
But now I need to get home. Leah is expecting me to bring home a pizza for our Friday-night tradition, and I need to order that and pick it up. Mom will undoubtedly take off with friends. She does most weekend nights.
I’m scrolling through my phone looking for the number to Leah’s favorite pizza place when I hear a thud behind me.
I whirl around in the chair. Jason empties a bucket in the sink.
“You’re just now done?” I assumed he left a long time ago.
“What I’m missing in speed, I make up in thoroughness,” he says. “You can brush your teeth in the toilet water.”
“Gross.”
“Those toilets are no longer gross!”
I shake my head. He seems stupidly proud of himself. He shoves the bucket under the sink and begins a thorough scrub-down. He suds up to his elbows and uses the sprayer to rinse. Poor thing. He’s probably never been that up close and personal with a public toilet.
Or any toilet.
But he seems ridiculously chipper about it.
I cross over to the linen shelves and grab a clean towel. “You need something fresh to dry off with so you can begin to rid your body of where you’ve been.”
“Thanks.” He accepts the towel and dries off his arms and face and neck. “I’m looking forward to getting rid of this shirt and putting on something clean.” He plucks his Antone’s T-shirt from his chest. It’s streaked and damp.
“I can help you with that.” I head to a cabinet in the back corner near Bertha. Inside is a short stack of the old Austin Pickle deli shirts the staff used to wear before we had the huge turnover. We only have a few left, and I didn’t know where to order more, so we stopped wearing them.
I toss one to him.
He catches it and flicks it open.
“I wondered if we had these.” Then he snaps his mouth shut like he cussed in front of the pope. Interesting.
“I can try to track down where they came from, and where the graphic is. I forgot about them. Although we probably shouldn’t order more until I have the budget under control.”
“Good thinking,” he says. He sets the shirt on the cutting table. “Do you mind if I switch?”
I shake my head.
He pulls his damp T-shirt over his head in one fluid motion.
I should look away, but there’s no way I’m going to miss the show. Employee or not.
His shoulders are strong, and his arms thick with muscle. His chest is honed and smooth. My eyes trace the line down his abs to his belly.
Heat flashes through me. This boy works out. My mouth feels hot and dry.
He balls up the shirt and drops it to the floor. “Don’t want to set that on our sterile workspace,” he says with a grin.
I can’t even smile in return. I’m mesmerized by the shift of muscles as he picks up the Pickle shirt and pulls it on. As the fabric drops over his body, I finally drag my gaze away.
My mouth speaks before my brain can stop it, asking, “So I guess you work out?”
He tugs the bottom of the shirt in place and fixes his gaze on me. “Why Miss Strong, were you ogling me while I changed shirts? Should I speak to HR about it?”
My face flames so hot that his infectious grin lights up. “I’m kidding, Nova. Thanks for the shirt.”
He seems pretty pleased with himself, though. Figures. A guy like him probably expects women to fawn over him.
Not this girl.
I back away until my butt bumps up against the mixing table. “I’m running late, so we need to go.”
Jason scoops up the old shirt. “Have a hot date tonight?”
“Maybe I do.”
The way his face falls at my answer, though, sets off a funny tickle in my belly.
“Good. Good.” He looks like he’s about to say something else, but simply says, “Good,” a third time.
“Glad you think so.”
“You might want to clean up first, though,” he says.
I clap my hands to my face. “What? Do I have something on me?”
He reaches out to touch my cheek. “Maybe a little something right here.”
If I thought the way we touched before caused a spark, that was nothing compared to what happens this time. Jason Packwood pours on pure charm, his grin aimed right at my heart.
After all the mornings baking bread, the gazes I caught from him, and