Big Pickle: A Secret Boss Romantic Comedy - JJ Knight Page 0,63

go. I didn’t want to leave her.”

I catch Kate watching me before she quickly turns away. Lamonte doesn’t say anything but moves over to the door and opens it. His response is clear. I need to get out.

And because it seems to be the best thing for Nova, I do as he says.

30

Nova

It’s been the worst week in a life that’s had some pretty bad weeks.

Jason, or Jace Pickle, or however I’m supposed to refer to him, has called and texted.

I’m aware of how frustrating it can be to watch couples refuse to work out their differences, so I respond to a text or two with short simple phrases. New locks installed. I am fine.

Not that it changes anything.

He asked me if I could forgive him for the deception, and I told him there was nothing to forgive. He had a job to do, and he did it.

He asked if he could see me, and I said I’d rather not.

I almost typed that I was uncomfortable dating my boss, but then realized how hypocritical that was, given until the night of the arrest, I’d been his boss.

He asked me if it was about trust.

And that one hit me in the gut. Because, in the end, it really was.

I could see how this started. I remember the moment when he looked around the deli on that first day. In hindsight, it’s clear he got this idea to figure out who was stealing from him by working here.

I don’t find any fault with that. It was self-preservation. Or deli-preservation.

But we crossed a line in the freezer that day I showed him the mountain of cheesecake. And he knew it. That was the moment he should have said, hold up, there’s something you need to know before we get any more naked.

But he didn’t. And things went so much further. So much.

A man who can’t figure out when to hit the brakes on a lie isn’t a man I can trust with my heart.

Although, it’s too late for that.

It’s taken three days to pull myself together enough to get to the deli again. I knew Jace was gone. Lamonte kept me appraised of how the deli was running without me. They were a little shorthanded, and struggling, particularly to get the bread baked in the mornings, but they’ve managed.

Audra called the deli with Jace’s approval of Lamonte’s assistant manager position. She also authorized hiring not just someone to replace Kate next month, but a whole new position.

And that was smart. We did run better with Jason at the deli to help with the morning baking and the chopping.

The thought of him at the mixing table threatens tears again.

No. Stop.

I have to pull it together.

But it’s hard. I still look around my office and struggle to reconcile what happened here.

And what will never happen again.

Jason Packwood. Laughing. Touching my knee. Doing so much more.

I brace my elbows on the desk, my head in my hands. I’ve shut off the camera in this room. It isn’t necessary, and I don’t need anyone hacking the system and watching me fall apart inside these walls.

I turn my head and glance at the taped-over window. We never did take those papers down.

Maybe I should.

I stand up to do it, but as soon as my fingers touch the tape he placed there, the waterworks start all over again.

What is up with this? I do not cry.

There’s a rap at my door.

I hurriedly wipe my eyes with a Kleenex and toss it in the trash. “Come in.”

Lamonte steps inside. “Lunch rush is extra heavy today. We could use you out there.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

Lamonte pats my shoulder as we head out. “You need to engage with the world, Nova. Get back in the game.”

I take a deep breath and try to prepare myself for the insanity that is Austin Pickle at lunch.

It’s busier than usual. While I was out, Lamonte came up with the brilliant idea to solve the dessert problem, as well as reduced foot traffic during this wet spring. If it’s raining, customers can get a free dessert, packaged in a cute little box, to take with them with any sandwich order.

After only three days of the special, we’ve made a noticeable dent in the freezer. And our average sales are up instead of down.

When we enter the main room, the line is out the door and curled underneath the awning. Out in the street, a steady, mist falls. It’s a perfectly miserable day, the sort the makes you