Dinner for One Read Online Free Page A

price, smiling as she stares up at him with unblinking eyes, and watches as another argument breaks out over if they have the money and should they wait. He’s tempted to laugh, but if there’s one thing he’s learned from Avery, it’s that kids don’t like it when you laugh at them. He doesn’t need a bunch of kids throwing tantrums around his pastries.
    “How about a group discount?” he interjects when the argument shows no signs of slowing down or resolving itself and instead gets louder and whinier.
    They turn big eyes on him, falling silent abruptly.
    “I’ll knock it down to two dollars a pastry, since there’s so many of you.”
    Every last one of them looks like Christmas has come early, and they thrust their dollar bills and quarters eagerly at him, rocking on their heels as he boxes up their pasties. Their impatience is a tangible thing, and once he’s handed everything over, they run off, gleeful looks on their faces. He watches them go and sees them approaching a cookie table across the way. He watches in disbelief as they repeat their actions on the cookie vendor. He does start to laugh then, realizing he’s been hustled by a bunch of elementary schoolkids.
    A tall blond wanders over to his table then, drawing his gaze away from the cookie seller who’s in the process of being lulled in by sweet innocent faces and wide eyes. The man’s hands are tucked into his formfitting black slacks. The sleeves of his gray dress shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing lightly tanned, shapely forearms. Bastien can see his veins, clearly standing out in that way that says this is a guy who works out a lot. His dirty-blond hair is on the longer side of short and styled, just the right amount of product in it to keep it in place but not so much that it looks shiny. Bastien can’t help but return his toothy smile when it’s flashed at him, revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek. The man’s green-gray eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles, little crow’s-feet branching and spreading.
    “Bit fancy for a bake sale,” he says, pulling one of his hands free to scratch along his sharp jaw. He’s got a modulated kind of voice, bordering on husky. It sends a pleasant shiver down the length of Bastien’s spine. “What are they?”
    “Religieuses,” answers Bastien, deciding to ignore the fancy comment. They’re appropriate, dammit. “It’s two tiers of choux pastry with cream filling on the inside of each pastry and vanilla cream icing on the outside.”
    “French,” says the man under his breath, and then louder, “How much is it?”
    “Four dollars a pastry.”
    The guy looks like he’s thinking about it, his uniquely colored gaze flicking over the pastries, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he worries it back and forth. It takes him a minute, but he finally reaches for his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. His fingers are long and nimble as he grabs his money. He hands a five over to Bastien and takes the pastry forming the nose of the rabbit. He plucks the top pastry off and while Bastien is sorting his change, he takes a bite.
    The moan he makes is nothing short of pornographic. Bastien’s head snaps up, the money in his hands forgotten. The guy’s jaw is shifting as he chews, and his eyes are shut in what Bastien is going to assume is bliss. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and Bastien wants nothing more than to get him alone and make him moan like that again. Preferably because of something not food related, though he’s not exactly averse to food being involved in a small way. He is a chef after all, and he knows how to do some creative things with whipped cream and chocolate. He wonders if the guy would make that noise if Bastien sucked him down, let him pound into the back of his throat. Not appropriate, he thinks. He shakes his head. He’s in public for God’s sake. This isn’t the place.
    “Keep the change,” the guy says once he’s finished his bite. “Can I get some