Big Pickle: A Secret Boss Romantic Comedy - JJ Knight Page 0,36

a shower and a pep talk. This is the first real opportunity I’ve had to be alone with her. No crew is going to come in and interrupt us. There will be no demands pressing on us to get the morning duties done.

Maybe we’ll even solve the mystery of the accounting problems once and for all.

Then perhaps I can confess who I am and get this secret off my back. I don’t know how Nova will react. She’s unpredictable, which is exactly what makes her so intriguing.

When I arrive at Austin Pickle, the back door is unlocked. I hold my hand on the lever for a moment, my belly tense.

This is nuts.

I’m never nervous around women.

Around me, spring has sprung. The cold has blown out, and the afternoon is bright and warm. It’s the type of day poets write about. Sunshine and birdsong.

And I’m meeting Nova, alone.

I push inside the kitchen. The big, open room is dim, only the bright light from Nova’s office spilling out.

“I would like to try your pickles, please!” I call out, then inwardly grimace. I haven’t said anything that dorky since sixth grade.

“No pickles for you!” she calls.

Okay, that makes me laugh.

Nova appears in the doorway of her office, the light behind her spilling around her.

And my breath catches.

Gone are the camo pants and army boots.

Cutoff jeans reveal an endlessly perfect expanse of thigh, the ragged edge taunting me as the bits of string caress her skin. Just below the knee, well-worn leather cowboy boots elongate her legs. Her signature tank top is siren red and has only the barest spaghetti straps.

Which means she can’t possibly be wearing a bra.

While I’m staring to find out, she either catches a chill or knows I’m looking. Her nipples pucker.

And I have my answer.

The back of my neck prickles as I will my dick to stay in control.

Nova turns away. “If you’re done gawking, I thought you might be interested in these printouts.”

I can barely hear her words. Now that she’s walking away, all I can think about is that perfect ass neatly filling out the decorated pockets of her jean shorts. Her long brown hair is in its usual ponytail, but loose and low, silky strands flowing down her back

Since her back’s to me, I quickly make an adjustment to make my half-mast status a little less obvious.

What the hell is going on? I’m normally an iron will of control.

But if this is how Nova Strong dresses on a warm Austin day, cancel my ticket, because I’m never going back north.

She plunks down into her office chair, and I can’t do anything but admire the bobble her breasts make as she lands.

I’m obsessed with the idea of sliding that tiny strap off her shoulder and baring the puckered nipple for my mouth.

“Jason? Are you still with us?”

Shit. My gaze makes it up to her face. It’s the same as always, only a touch of mascara and lip gloss. I’m not sure she even needs that. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yes. Of course.” I clamber for something to say. “It got warm out, didn’t it?”

She gives me an expression of What the hell? Then glances down at her shorts.

“Yes, I got the chance to wear my favorites again. Plus, it’s not a workday.” She kicks up her leg to show off the boots, and the way her thigh muscle flexes makes me salivate.

I’m a goner. Hook, line, and sinker. Nova Strong can ask me for anything and it’s all hers.

After a hard gulp, I finally manage to say, “Nice boots.”

“I got them at a thrift shop two years ago. They’re surprisingly comfortable.”

“Are they?” I’m aware I’m not making charming conversation, but I’m barely holding it together.

She cocks her head at me, then shrugs. “All right, the numbers. Have a seat.” She pushes a folding chair toward me with her boot and gestures to the pages spread out on the desk. That’s when I spot a pair of glasses lying on a page. Red, like her shirt. Shaped like hearts.

“What are those?” I ask as I sit down. But I’m already dying, literally on fire, to see her put them on.

“Just reading glasses.”

I can barely eke out the words, but manage to say, “Are you going to put them on?”

Her lips purse as she considers my question. I’m pretty sure she’s on to me, but I’m so far gone I don’t care. “I think I can read these pages without