Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,46
to finding out every single thing you like.”
Heat rises in my body. “I think dinner would be good. Are you free?”
“I’m working out with your brother after we close. It would be a late dinner.”
“I don’t know how you’re doing it. The workouts, running a restaurant. The competitions. The tanning sessions alone are a huge chunk of time.”
“I have a great manager. And thankfully, I don’t need a lot of sleep.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”
Our gazes meet, and I have a feeling he’s thinking about last night. A flush heats my cheeks.
“So, you’re thinking about it too,” he says.
“I don’t know what came over me,” I say.
“It was fucking hot,” he says. “I want to know when I get to return the favor.”
“Soon?” I say.
He glances around. “You know what? They don’t need me this afternoon. All my best staff is here. I’m just a figurehead.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Let’s make a day of it.”
We head through the kitchen to the sandwich line, and Max pulls me behind the counter. The two employees from before are gone, replaced with a young blond woman.
“Where’d Tiana and Angelo go?” Max asks.
“Tiana is on break talking to her man in the alley,” the woman says. “Angelo went to fetch more cheese.”
Max nods. He seems less comfortable with this worker than the others.
I try to break the tension. “So, I get to see the behind the scenes.”
Max smiles. “Nothing fancy here. Let’s put something together. A picnic?”
“Sure.” I glance along the line at the various breads and sandwich fillings and sides. “Can you eat any of this?”
“Well technically, it’s a competition week so I can have carbs. But I’ll keep it light. No bread. No pastas.”
“But all the pickles you want, right?” I slide on the plastic glove and pick up one of the oversized dills. I wave it in his face.
“Pickles, I can do.” He snags another glove and piles pickles into a container.
The woman at the cash register frowns. She’s college-aged, lots of attitude. She does not approve of my arrival behind the counter.
“So, Mr. Pickle, who is this?” She flips a long lock of blond hair behind her shoulder and glares at me like I’m poaching on her man.
“This is Camryn. We’re heading out for a picnic.”
The girl’s expression darkens. “In the middle of the workday? I’m the only one on the line until the others get back.”
Oh, this employee is not like the others. She seems to think she has some claim on Max. I glance between the two of them. I’m curious how Max will handle this challenge. No doubt more than one employee has tried to get their clutches on him.
“You are very good at what you do, and you will handle it marvelously,” Max says.
This mollifies her, but she crosses her arms in front of her green pickle shirt. “Where are you going for this so-called picnic?”
I want to tell her it’s none of her damn business, but Max answers as he pops a lid on the pickle container. “Not sure yet. The neighborhood park is small. You’re young. What are some great spots to have a picnic around here?”
Her eyes brighten at the “you’re young” comment, and she lifts an eyebrow at me while Max extricates another container from the stack.
Readers, I have to admit I’d like to smack her.
Max glances up. “Did you have any ideas?”
“We’re in the middle of L.A.,” she says. “But I’d head to the beach.”
Max turns to me. “That sounds nice. You game for sand and waves?”
“Absolutely.”
The girl sighs and drops her chin onto her hands as she braces her elbows on the counter.
Max fills a small container with a white spread. “The beach is a great idea. Thank you, Karen.”
I stifle a laugh. Of course her name is Karen.
The man who took me to the back returns, and the tension lifts.
“I’m Angelo,” he says. “I figured I better introduce myself since my boss, here, forgets his manners around pretty girls.”
This gets a harrumph from Karen, but Angelo ignores her as he merrily helps us pack a sandwich for me, and a collection of meat and cheese for Max.
Max drags down an L.A. Pickle cooler from a high shelf to pack everything in. “Andre will close,” he tells Karen and Angelo. “And let Miranda know we’re testing the anniversary bread tomorrow.”
Karen gives a halfhearted salute as she watches us walk out the door.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Angelo calls,