Big Pickle: A Secret Boss Romantic Comedy - JJ Knight Page 0,39

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

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