Slice of Pi 2 Read Online Free

“Oh, I should probably take this to go, actually, and let you get back to work.”
    He gestured to the open tables. “Too late for that. You’re here now. Have a seat. Enjoy your breakfast.”
    She took her plate and cup and slid into a chair at one of the tables, aware of Owen watching her. While it wasn’t intended to be the way she met the guy, at least the ice was broken now. Perhaps she could salvage this encounter after all. “Do you want to join me?”
    He glanced behind him at the closed door to the kitchen, then back at Iris. “I guess I can take a short break.” He grabbed his own cup of coffee and joined her at the table.
    ---
    Owen couldn’t just leave her sitting there alone while he disappeared into the kitchen and finished baking. It wasn’t like she was going to break into the safe and steal the cash float—at least he didn’t think so—but she was hot and flirtatious, and he was eight minutes ahead of schedule. This behavior right now, as she leaned forward on the small table and looked up at him through her lashes, was pretty direct. His sleep and work schedule didn’t allow much time for dating, but it didn’t take a Casanova to recognize the moves she was making.
    And he didn’t mind them one bit.
    He watched as she picked up the fresh almond croissant and took a bite, the pastry flaking off and fluttering down to the plate, a few bits sticking to her lips as she chewed and swallowed. Her eyelids fluttered closed when the bite touched her tongue, and she made a soft noise in her throat that sounded out of place under these fluorescent lights, a sound more suited to the bedroom. She had to be doing that on purpose. She ran her tongue across her lips, gathering the flakes she’d missed, and opened her eyes. When she saw him looking at her, she smiled. All right, so she was definitely doing this on purpose. She took a sip of coffee and then looked to the side, staring out the glass windows at the quiet street, now bathed in the orange light of daybreak.
    â€œSo, you said you own this place?” She looked back to his face, making eye contact again. Her eyes were lovely, intense blue, framed by those adorable cat-eye glasses. Owen was caught off guard by how attractive she was. Now that he took a closer look, Owen realized he had in fact noticed her at the bakery before, of course, but she’d always been in a tailored business suit, her hair up in some kind of twist or otherwise perfectly shaped, her makeup impeccable, a tight look on her face as she glanced at him over her glasses. There was something about her this morning that looked . . . disheveled. Unbuttoned. And it was sexy as hell.
    Damn, if he kept on that train of thought, he was going to have a difficult time sitting at this table. He drank some of his coffee too fast, burning his tongue. Shit. Now he’d be down a few hundred taste buds or so, never a good situation for a baker.
    Her gaze was still on him. Oh, right. She’d asked him a question and he hadn’t answered. “Now I do. My uncle was the original owner, and I bought it from him about five years ago when he retired. I’d been working for him since high school, so I don’t think he felt he had a choice in the matter.” He grinned. “He swings by every few months to make sure I’m being as much of a hard-ass as he was.”
    â€œAnd are you? A hard-ass, I mean.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and he had to grin at the flirty implication.
    Owen gave a modest shrug. “I like to think I’m fair.”
    â€œSo, you bought your uncle’s bakery. Nepotism at work. I like it.” She smiled and took another bite of her croissant. “This is fucking phenomenal. I mean it. Best one I’ve ever had.”
    â€œWell, they’re always best when they’ve just come out of the oven.” He took another sip of coffee, slower this time.