Slice of Pi 2 (20 page)

Iris pictured him kneeling on the floor at her feet, a collar around his neck, and damn but that was way too hot. “Too bad it's not going to happen.”

“Yeah, well, we'll have to see.” Owen leaned closer, so close he could kiss her, their noses brushing. “We
are
dating, after all. Maybe that's next.” He held the position, staring into her eyes with a smoldering expression, and then sat back and winked.

Iris exhaled shakily, more unsettled by her complicated feelings than ever before. “Yeah, well, we'll see.”

Her and Owen. Dating.

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

13 

The next morning at
the bakery was busy, compounded by Owen's grogginess brought on by too little sleep. He hadn't gotten to bed until ten, after being so wound up from his evening with Iris, and ten was practically two in the morning for a baker. It had been worth it, though—something profound had shifted between him and Iris last night, and he thought quite a bit about it while completing his morning tasks. They'd been more honest with each other than probably at any point over the past few weeks, and while they'd landed themselves in some sort of weird pseudo-relationship limbo, it was better than denying the feelings that he was gratified to learn were not one sided. He knew this wasn't just about BDSM; it was about Iris clinging to the idea that he wouldn't want a relationship with her. There was something deeper to that, and he couldn't quite pick through it.

Not enough sleep and not being able to stop thinking about Iris meant he screwed up several batches of cookies that morning and had to redo them, which was something he never would have tolerated had it been Juan's doing. Honestly, he'd have used it as an excuse to justify his reluctance to trust Juan with more responsibility, his unwillingness to let his assistant baker handle the monthly ordering or make the specials. Owen couldn't say he felt great about that. He wasn't a tyrannical boss, but he never yielded control over his major projects, limiting Juan to prep and small-scale daily baked goods rather than the elaborate cakes that were Sugar Rush's showpieces. That wasn't really fair, if he was being honest. Being the boss didn't exempt him from mistakes, so maybe he could afford to give his assistant baker the chance to make some of his own, and in the process take on the responsibility he'd been requesting for a year now.

Owen decided to try out his new professional creed that very day. He'd picked up a few contracts for Halloween parties that weekend, spooky treats and cakes and gourmet candy apples and such, so there was a lot of in-depth prep work that had to be completed before he and Juan could do the actual baking tomorrow and Friday. Juan showed up right on time for his morning shift, and he and Owen worked side by side in companionable silence for the first part of the day, each focused on completing his own individual tasks. When they reached a natural stopping point, Owen pulled out the order binder from under the front counter and brought it to the kitchen. “Listen, Juan, I've got three cakes to take care of later this week. You want to pick one to take off my hands?”

Juan looked up, clearly surprised, with his eyebrows shooting up almost to his hairline, but he quickly recovered. “Sure thing, boss.” Juan took the cake binder from Owen and leafed through it. “Which one?”

“Your pick.”

Juan smiled, scanning the descriptions again. “I'll do the spiderweb one if that's all right with you.”

“Have at it. I'll take care of the others.” Owen felt an acute sense of satisfaction as he brought a tray of fresh muffins to the front. He hadn't realized it would feel so good to reward an employee for his hard work and dedication, and it just made him want to do more of that in the future. The shop was busy, like it was every morning, but Sebastian was handling the front counter with ease. He should hire another person for the holiday season and take some of the burden off of Sarah and Sebastian. Maybe at some point he'd take Iris's advice and get a general manager. Not just yet, though. Not just yet.

On returning to the kitchen, he started mixing up batter for one of the cakes they'd be making and waited for Juan to emerge from the walk-in.

“Are you still good to work this Sunday?” Owen asked once Juan reappeared with a bowl of macerated strawberries.

“Definitely.” Juan nodded.

“Are you interested in picking up more hours than that?” He felt weird asking. Normally he was ordering his employees to do things, not asking them.

Juan perked up. “Absolutely, yes. Weddings are expensive. What did you have in mind?”

“The following weekend, first weekend in November, I was looking to go out of town. You'd need to cover me for both Saturday and Sunday. That's two full open-to-close days.” Owen gauged Juan's reaction, and the other man was all smiles.

“Yes, absolutely. I would be happy to.” When Juan went back to the task, he was actually whistling. Owen smiled to himself.

“You can put on some of that shitty music you're always listening to when I'm not here,” he told Juan, and the other man laughed before turning on the radio and tuning it to a station he knew Owen liked.

His good mood persisted throughout the rest of the shift and his ride home. Opening the door to his empty house made him think of having Iris over. They hadn't made official plans yet, but he was looking forward to seeing her again. Hormones be damned.

Shortly after five, when he knew she'd be off work, he sent her a text.

Dinner Friday night? My place?

She wrote back almost right away.
Sure. As long as I don't have to make it.

He smiled.
No, thanks, I don't want food poisoning.

Fuck you,
she wrote back with an accompanying smiley face emoji.
Get a costume for Saturday. No couples shit.

Right, the costume party. He could throw something together in the next couple of days.
Got it,
he wrote back, then started to pull food out of the fridge for dinner. He would have to buy something special to make for her for Friday night. After setting the oven to preheat, he began prepping the chicken thighs. The phone was silent. He needed to ask her something else that he'd been turning over in his mind, which would be easier with actual talking rather than texting. After washing his hands, he pressed Iris's name on his phone to call.

The phone only rang once before she picked up. “An actual voice phone call? I feel like I'm in college.” He could hear the smile in her words.

“Yeah, well, it's hard to text while I'm making dinner.” He shifted the phone onto his shoulder so he could pull a broiler pan out from under the stove. “I think you should just stay at my place this weekend.” Owen transferred his dry-rubbed chicken thighs from their bowl onto the broiler pan. “I have to work on Saturday, but you could hang around here until after my shift, and we can go right to the party. Then maybe on Sunday we could go see a movie.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the line. “This is that dating thing?”

He smiled. “Yeah, that dating thing. You seem to think you're impossible to deal with, so I wanted to see for myself.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay, sure.” While he could hear some apprehension in her voice, he was pleased that she was willing to set it aside.

“Good. Oh, and your boss ordered gourmet candy apples from me for the Halloween party that we're attending. He must have really liked our wedding cake. Tell him I can bring them directly and he won't have to pick them up.”

After a few more minutes of talking, Owen said goodbye and returned to his dinner prep with a smile on his face and some stirring in his pants.

---

Iris had hoped to hear about the freelance position during the week, but by Friday, everything had still been silent. Despite her newfound optimism, she couldn't escape the reality that she was really a novice artist with only a handful of classes under her belt from college years ago, and she should not get her hopes up. There were people who held actual full-time jobs in this area. She, the HR manager, wasn't likely to be replacing one of them.

This battle of optimism and pessimism carried her through her entire morning. She wasn't even able to lose herself in work like normal, since the end-of-the-month paperwork had all been completed and she was in a form of stasis until Monday. It was unusual for her to have nothing to do, so unusual that she kept returning to her files to see that yes, they were still sorted, her email inbox was dealt with and organized, and her to-do list was empty.

To kill a little time in her workday, she went into the break room to get herself a cup of coffee from the pot someone—usually her—always kept ready. While waiting for it to brew, she straightened items in the fridge. She was going to Owen's house tonight and spending the weekend. She hadn't spent the weekend with a guy since college, generally restricting her sexual adventures to the one-night-stand type, and she didn't want to admit to herself that she was really excited. When he'd asked on Wednesday, she'd been reluctant to say yes, but the more time had passed, the more she was looking forward to it. She had to ease off, though. Just like the freelance position, if she got her hopes up, the inevitable crash would be all the worse.

When the coffee finished, she poured herself a cup, added some cream and sugar, and carried it back to her desk. In the hallway, she ran into Caleb.

“Iris!” He smiled at her. “I was just looking for you. Are you free to meet with Will and me for a couple of minutes?”

“Sure.” Iris followed him down to Will's office, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She tried to channel the Domme side of her personality, and felt herself relax, a veneer of control settling over her. She could handle this, even if it was a rejection.

Will looked up from his computer when they walked in, smiling at each of them. “Good! You're free. Take a seat, you two.”

Iris and Caleb took the two seats across from Will's desk, but Caleb spoke first, angling his chair to face Iris. His demeanor didn't look like someone about to deliver bad news, but there was some hesitation there she couldn't read. “Okay, so first off, I want to tell you that I love your art. Your style is perfect for what we want to see in
Endgame
.”

Iris smiled, but the smile felt tense. She could sense the “but” coming. “Thank you.”

“So here's the thing.” He spread his palms wide. “You have the art style I want for
Endgame
, but you don't have the animation experience I need for this position.”

She felt a dropping sensation in her gut. She hadn't exactly been unprepared for this news. “Yeah, I know.”

Caleb glanced up at Will, who nodded for Caleb to continue. “Normally, we'd hire someone to do all of it, concept art as well as animation. But Will and I both like your style so much we've been brainstorming how to move forward. We want to propose something a little unorthodox.” He shifted forward in his chair. “We'd like you to do all the concept art for
Endgame.
Characters, monsters, background, everything, and we'll buy the rights to use your designs in the game. We'll hire a freelance animator for the game itself, but they'll work from your art.”

Iris did her best to stop her mouth from dropping wide open in shock. They wanted her art? They liked what she did? She felt a huge smile break out over her face. “That would be wonderful. Thank you so, so much.” She felt giddy, overcome, and had to resist the urge to start giggling with delight. Even with all her self-control, she couldn't stop smiling so wide her face hurt.

Will spoke up. “You have great talent, Iris. It's a little raw, but I can see a lot of potential in you. Your style is different from what we have on the rest of our team. You're also the best HR person I could hope for. I couldn't handle half of what you do for PI Games. If this project goes well, would you be interested in transitioning into the creative side of the company?”

Iris hadn't even considered that as an option. She thought about being an animator, not only designing the characters but bringing them to life, joining Caleb's team at the other end of the hallway. And then, inexplicably, she thought of someone else handling the business end of PI games, the paperwork and files and seemingly mundane tasks of her job that she'd grown so attached to over the years. Instead of relief, she felt a tangible sense of loss.

She exhaled, the breath coming out shaky from between her lips. “I've been interested in art for my whole life. I always thought that it's what I'd want to do. But . . . and I can't believe I'm saying this . . .” She shook her head and laughed. “I really enjoy my job in HR. I'd hate to give that up. I liked the thought of freelancing, because it would let me do art without giving up my position here.”

Will scratched his graying beard. “Well, you've got me in a bit of a predicament here, Iris.” He studied her, his expression inscrutable, before slapping the desk with a meaty palm. Iris and Caleb both jumped. “Tell you what. If you want to freelance for us, then you should at least be able to be competitive. There are a few local universities with design and animation programs that have night classes. I'll give you the same deal I give to any of our employees who want to advance in their field. PI Games will split the cost of your courses with you fifty-fifty.”

Multiple emotions rushed through Iris all at once. She'd looked at these programs, but never seriously, because she wasn't sure she had enough talent for them to make a difference. With the faith of her company behind her, though, it didn't feel like a pipe dream. It felt like a potential reality. “Thank you so much. Both of you.” Iris looked from Will to Caleb. “I'm honored. And I'm so excited.” Excited didn't even begin to cover it. She was practically vibrating in her chair.