Slice of Pi 2 (4 page)

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Iris? It's Owen.”

“Hi, Owen.” He heard the smile in her words. “You're not bailing on me for tomorrow, are you?”

“Nope, I'm just calling to firm up plans. Where should I meet you, and what time?”

“I'm staying at the Let the Sun Shine Inn on Mandalay Avenue. I've got an early check-in, so you want to meet me there around one?”

He couldn't have heard her right. “I'm sorry, what did you say the name of the hotel was?”

“You heard me. I know, it's the cheesiest name for a hotel anywhere, but I thought it was kind of cute and the price was right. That work for you? One o'clock?”

Honestly, it would feel like the day was halfway over for him by then, but normal people didn't keep bakers' hours. “Sure. One's fine.”

“Call me when you arrive. I'll see you then.”

“Okay. See you then.”

The call disconnected, and he set the phone aside and got off the couch. He could lounge later. Right now, he had things to do.

4 

Clearwater Beach, that broad
expanse of white sand and crystal-blue water, was far more manageable in early October than during the blistering days of summer. Iris kept glancing out the window as soon as the beach came into view, every stoplight another opportunity to stare out at the shoreline and long for the mindless relaxation it afforded. She'd arranged early check-in at the hotel so as to maximize her beach time, and with the late-morning sun lighting the water to brilliant azure, she celebrated her own good decision.

Two blocks from the beach proper, Iris pulled into the parking lot of her hotel, the Let the Sun Shine Inn. She smiled when she saw the cheerful, punny sign, just as she'd done three months ago when she'd first found it online and again last night when she'd told Owen where to find her. Honestly, the name was kind of cute, and the hotel itself looked better than what she'd expected. She'd hoped to avoid the normal strip mall–style motels common to beachfront areas, the ones that understood desperate tourists required no amenities but location and provided the bare minimum as a result.

Generally, hotel quality decreased with proximity to the beach; the closer the hotel, the shittier the ambience. By that standard, the Let the Sun Shine Inn was nearly ideal. At least it was tastefully decorated with nary a plastic flamingo or seashell wind chime in sight. She hadn't expected much from a place with an eye-rolling name and a website that boasted a giant orange sun in sunglasses, but on arrival, she was pleasantly surprised.

A few minutes later, room key in hand, she searched the exterior of the building for room 215. It wasn't far from where she'd parked, fortunately. The diamond-shaped plastic key fob jingled as she turned the key in the lock, an old-fashioned throwback to motels of twenty years ago. Places like this, with year-round bookings guaranteed by location, had no need to upgrade to a key card system. Hopefully they'd upgraded to other modern features like toilets that didn't run all night and comforters that someone actually washed.

Inside, she switched on the light and looked around. Not so bad. No wood paneling, at least, and the beds were covered in white down comforters rather than the floral or paisley bedspreads of yesteryear. Right, two beds. She should have called and tried to upgrade to a king bed once Jen backed out on her. It was always much nicer to roll around in carnal ecstasy on a king bed rather than a double.

She unpacked her belongings into the ancient wooden dresser and set her suitcase aside. As she unpacked, she couldn't stop thinking about Owen. Her flings had always been spontaneous, but they weren't usually guys she'd already been quietly lusting after for months. This wasn't just taking some random guy from a bar to bed. To be honest, she seldom did that anyway. This wasn't college and that stuff just didn't suit her anymore. Owen was someone she didn't know, true, but she'd been frequenting his bakery for months now, and it felt like she knew him. Now he was coming to the beach for—let's be frank—a fling, and she was ready for adventure.

She checked the clock on the end table. Quarter to one. Owen would be here soon. Was he going to want to head to the beach, or stay here and fool around? What did
she
want? She hadn't driven to Clearwater Beach for a booty call, so she didn't want to miss out on the beach, but she was also going to be here all weekend and could delay her visit to that beautiful azure water by a
few
hours.

At least she'd be ready to go either way. Iris pulled on her bikini, a red number with white stripes, and tied a kerchief around her head like a headband. The finished look was very pinup girl, her favorite aesthetic. Both sexy and functional. She pulled on a white cover-up but left it unbuttoned down the front. After throwing a beach towel and some sunscreen into her bag, she sat down on the bed and used the remote to click the ancient television on, surprised that the thing was even compatible with a remote. Even with the TV on, she couldn't stop checking the numbers on the digital clock, waiting for Owen to arrive.

---

Owen avoided the beach in general, preferring the interior terrain of Florida to its muggy, tourist-stuffed beaches, but he could make an exception this time of year. Clearwater Beach was lovely in early October, when the nights took a bit of a chill but the bay remained warm and the sun soothing. Even if he weren't headed out to see Iris, he might have enjoyed this trip on his own.

Iris, with her platinum-blond hair and saucy smile, had been on his mind quite a bit since the phone call last night. He hadn't wanted to think about her at all, but his subconscious had cooked up a dream where she stood over him in her business suit with those cat-eye glasses, looking at him with a disapproving expression and scolding him for being bad. He woke completely erect and overwhelmingly guilty. The content of the fantasy itself wasn't causing guilt, but it wasn't fair to focus those fantasies on someone who had no idea what he was actually into. He wasn't ashamed of his kinks, not
really
, but he'd been turned down by enough women to know this stuff was unusual at best.

The car behind him honked, startling him. He'd been thinking about Iris at the red light and it had turned green, leaving him still lost in reverie. He started driving again. His thoughts about Iris could wait until he actually found the place where she was staying. The Let the Sun Shine Inn was perhaps the dumbest name he'd ever heard for a hotel, but it also made him laugh.

Iris picked up the phone on the first ring. Maybe she was as excited as he was. He could hear a faint television in the background. “Hello?”

“Hey, it's Owen. I'm a few miles away. Are you at the hotel?”

“Yeah. Room 215. I'll wait for you outside.”

When he turned into the parking lot of the cheesiest-named hotel ever, he saw her leaning on the railing of the second floor, gazing down at the parking lot. From this angle, she looked like a statue. She was pale, which was unusual for most people here in Florida, but her shade of pale was a pristine alabaster that looked creamy and inviting. She wore a striped bikini under an open cover-up, which served the purpose of covering nothing at all and being extremely distracting. The expanse of skin was all there for him to try not to ogle. Not to mention the soft swells of her breasts just trying not to burst out of her bathing suit top, and he was rapidly growing uncomfortable in his shorts. He threw his bag over one shoulder and headed upstairs.

“Come on in.” She stepped to the side, letting him into room 215. The room itself wasn't bad, especially for something only a few blocks from the shore. He tossed his bag onto the bed closer to the door. “Did you want to go to the beach?” Iris asked. “I haven't been out yet, but I could lie out all day. With enough sunscreen so I don't roast, I mean.” She gestured to herself, making his eyes follow her hand down her belly. “Pale skin, you know.”

“Whatever you want to do. This is your vacation, not mine.” Owen thrust his hands into his pockets.

“But I'm here until Sunday and you're only here for the day.” One of the strands of her hair had come loose from its bandana, and she tucked it behind her ear. It was possible she was propositioning him, albeit obliquely. They were both here for “a little fun at the beach,” as she'd described it on Sunday, but it looked like neither was going to make the first move. After a moment, Iris shrugged. “Okay, if you really don't care, let's go to the beach. It's beautiful out there and I don't want you to miss it.”

“Sounds good.”

The beach was indeed lovely, but what was far more appealing was Iris, slipping out of the cover-up, acres of bare skin visible. She sat down on the blanket and pulled a bottle from her bag. Without preamble, she began slathering lotion across her arms, chest, and stomach, moving with brisk efficiency. Owen wasn't sure if he was supposed to watch, but she didn't seem to mind it. When she'd finished her front, she held out the bottle. “Am I too much of a cliché if I ask you to put sunscreen on my back?”

Owen took the bottle, unsurprised to see that it was SPF 50. “Am I too much of a cliché if I like it?”

“Maybe.” She turned her back to him.

Owen began rubbing the sunscreen onto her back, noticing as he did so how smooth her skin felt beneath his hands. “Not much of a tanner, are you?”

She snorted. “You can say that again. I burn to a crisp. My mom's side of the family is Norwegian, and I got all those genes. We're cold-weather people.”

“And you live in Florida.” He rubbed until the lotion disappeared. “You want me to get the backs of your legs?”

“Please.” She stretched out on her stomach. “I live in Florida because I grew up here. It's sort of all I've ever known. Plus it's a cheap place to live and I have a good job.”

“I know what you mean.” He finished her legs, then tossed the bottle back into her bag. He used his own sunscreen, a much more reasonable SPF 15, to get his face, neck, and chest. “You want to return the favor?” He held up the bottle, then turned around while she rubbed sunscreen on him as well. Her touch was nonsexual, but he could feel his body reacting, and he kept his back turned to her until he could will himself into a state of physical calm. By then, she'd finished and handed back the bottle before stretching out on her towel.

With sunglasses on, he was able to surreptitiously check her out. Her body type was small-boned and lean, and combined with her short stature, she looked more delicate than he'd figured. That bathing suit, though. She had to know she was hot. Iris was probably not a woman who got turned down very often for sex, and he definitely wasn't going to be the first. He was starting to regret heading to the beach instead of straight to bed.

He lay back on his blanket and closed his eyes to block out the sun. After a moment, he heard her voice. “So, Owen Hobbs. Like . . .
Calvin and Hobbes
?”

Owen rolled onto his side and pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. Iris was still lying on her belly, but she was facing him, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses and the edge of a smile visible where her face peeked out from behind her arm.

“Close, but not quite. No ‘e' in my name.”

“So you aren't a big scary tiger?” She pushed the sunglasses down her nose to look at him, and her blue eyes held his gaze.

He couldn't help but smile back. “Is that what you want me to be?” That's what most women wanted, actually. The alpha male, all muscles and gruff manliness, to take them to bed in a whirlwind of passion. He had the muscles, and he could fake the rest of it well enough if that was what Iris wanted.

“Nah, I'm looking for a little more finesse, I think.” She rested her head down on her folded arms.

Interesting. Maybe she wouldn't be like all the others. Owen lay there for a few minutes but couldn't help the restlessness. He sat up on the blanket and looked out at the bay. “So do you just like to lie on the beach all day, or are you going in the water?”

“Not sure yet.” She rolled onto her side. “You can go, though.”

“No, come in with me. It's no fun to swim alone.” He forced a panicked look onto his face. “Besides, I don't even know if that lifeguard is eighteen yet and I'm terribly worried about drowning.”

He could tell she was rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses, but she got up off the blanket and held out her hand to him. “Okay, you win. Drag me into this terrible water.”

The water was not, of course, terrible. The Gulf of Mexico was a warm bath this time of year and the clear water had to be at least eighty degrees. Owen waded in to his waist and then submerged fully, ducking under and then popping his head up above the surface. Iris was more tentative, wading in but not dunking her head. She didn't say much, her expression one of mild disdain.

“You don't like the ocean, I take it?” He shook salty water droplets out of his dark hair.

“Not really, no.” She ducked far enough to submerge her top half. “I know it's a bay, but I keep thinking that something's going to swim up and bite me.”

“Well, I don't know you that well, yet.” Owen grinned at her raised eyebrow. “Maybe later.”

That teased another smile from her lips. They both knew what this visit was about, and it wasn't frolicking on the beach. She swam closer. At this distance from shore, the water was up to her shoulders and his chest. “Why not now?” She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and blinked lovely sky-colored eyes at him. Without makeup, she looked softer, sweeter, less put together but still enticing.

Owen glanced at the shoreline. The beach wasn't deserted, since Clearwater Beach was pretty much never empty except in the dead of winter, but the other beachgoers were scattered across the expanse of white sand. Others were in the water, but out of reach and, as far as he was concerned, out of mind. Stepping in closer, he cupped her chin with one wet hand and watched her eyes widen. His other hand went to her hip under the water, his thumb brushing the smooth curve of skin while his fingers pressed into the stretchy fabric of her bikini. Then he leaned in and kissed her.