Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,17

to figure out whether or not he was single. I searched for him everywhere possible. All social media. New articles. Society columns.

But I couldn’t find any pictures of him with a woman.

For a while, I thought maybe he was gay. It’s common in bodybuilding.

But I eventually drummed up a girlfriend from a few years back. And once I did a deep dive into the public feeds of his college crowd, there were plenty of girls.

Yes, I’m stalking him.

I don’t intend to throw myself at him or anything. But it’s good to know what you’re up against. I’m not a homewrecker. I don’t go full-tilt after somebody else’s man.

But he’s single. So, all bets are off.

Because I like this guy.

And I think, judging by his reaction during our tanning session, that maybe there’s interest on his end, too.

I pause by the mirror for the thousandth time, questioning the spirals of hair near my ears. I agonized with a curling wand for twenty minutes over two simple curls. Was it obvious? Had I done too much?

God, I’m nervous.

I’m so excited to see him. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I hope he’s everything I think he is. And if so, I should work fast. His meteoric rise up the bodybuilder ranks means every woman on the circuit is going to make a play for him.

Dahlia sure did.

And yet he popped that boner for me.

My phone buzzes. It’s my brother.

God, he has terrible timing.

You’re working the Open Classic, right?

I tap out an impatient reply: Expecting a client any second.

I stare at the door, wondering why he’s asking. I am working the Open in two weeks, but Max won’t be there. He’ll be at the invitational.

The phone buzzes.

Who’s coming?

My stomach twists. I can’t tell him, but I also don’t want to be caught in a lie.

They’re here. Later.

I set the phone on silent.

The last thing I want is an interruption. Or to answer my brother’s question.

A sharp rap on my door startles me out of my skin.

He’s here.

Max Pickle is at my door!

Everything inside me wants to sing. I’ve only seen him twice in my life, but after all my stalking, I feel like I know him.

Still, I have to be professional today. I can’t come on too strong. I must do my job and see where it leads.

When I open the door, Max holds up a white L.A. Pickle bag. “I brought you a veggie sandwich on olive bread.”

I accept the gift, the aroma making my mouth water.

Or maybe it’s Max.

“That is amazingly sweet.”

My heart wants to hammer straight out of my skin. I’ve never believed in that love-at-first-sight business. And honestly, it wasn’t love at first sight. I thought he was a big pain in my schedule the first time.

But seeing him today, it’s different. I can’t remember being this excited to see someone before.

Certainly not Malachi.

“Let me run this to the fridge,” I say. “Be right back.”

When I return to the living room, Max stands with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing up at the artwork covering the walls. “There’s some beautiful stuff in here.”

“I like supporting local artists. I practically live at farmers markets.”

He turns to gaze at me and I melt a little. He’s so arrestingly handsome, his sparkly eyes, half-smile, and that bulked-up body in a thin white tank top and shiny red shorts.

For a moment I think about his lack of underwear, and I know if I possessed the right anatomy, I’d be popping a boner the size of a baseball bat.

I have to get back to business.

“So, here’s how it’ll go.” I gesture to a colorful hand-painted set of screens in the corner. “You’ll change back there.”

I walk to the center of the room where a stool rests on top of a bright-blue tarp. “Here is where I will do the initial exfoliating and moisturizing. That way your skin will be prepped for the first layer of tan.”

I turn to a narrow pop-up tent. “Over here is where I’ll spray you. And I’ll have you stand under the ceiling fan while you dry.”

He nods as he looks around. “It’s a great setup. Lived here long?”

“I moved into this neighborhood about eighteen months ago. I get a lot of my clients from Buster’s Gym, so it made sense to be closer. I’m centrally located to several competitions.”

He nods again. “I’m grateful you took me on as a client. You certainly got me out of a jam. I feel absolutely confident knowing my tan