Page 11 of Love your Billionaire Boss

Just then, the bell to the café rang and Kenny saw the girl from the bar. Cleo. She was wearing a pink strapless dress with small white flowers. Her hair was twisted into a low bun, but wavy strands of her chestnut hair framed her face. She looked different from in the bar. Maybe it was because he was seeing her in the daylight, and not in the dimmed light of Murphy’s. She still had that same sad smile.

He watched curiously as she took a deep breath and put on a bigger smile that couldn’t hide her nerves. She carried a small brown basket and walked slowly up to the counter. She had white high-top sneakers on, which Kenny loved. He liked her style. She stood at the counter for a moment, rocking back on her heels. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips were painted with a gloss to match. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

Eventually, she rang the bell on the counter and smoothed out her dress, waiting.

Justin cleared his throat. “Looks like you’re focused on more than the game.”

Kenny looked away from Cleo and back to Justin, who was smirking at him.

“Who is she?” asked Justin, raising his eyebrows and looking in her direction.

“Who?” asked Kenny innocently, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Hmm.” Justin tapped his cheek with his finger, as if he was thinking really hard. “The brunette with the killer curves and the pink pout that checks off your exact type.”

Kenny laughed. “Her name is Cleo. She was our bartender the other night. Remember?”

Justin glanced over at Cleo waiting patiently at the counter. He studied her for a moment. “Really?”

“Okay, stop looking,” said Kenny under his breath.

“She looks different when she’s not in a T-shirt and jeans.”

Kenny nodded, taking a sip of water and stealing another glance. Justin was doing the same.

“Seriously, stop looking at her. You’re making it obvious.” Kenny kicked him underneath the table.

“Ouch!” said Justin loudly, causing a few customers to look over. Thankfully, Cleo didn’t.

“Will you shut up?” whispered Kenny, sinking into the booth.

“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Justin leaned down to rub his shin.

“What? No. Besides, she’s busy.”

And she was. A man from the kitchen had come out to greet her. He was wiping his hands on his apron and eyeing the basket in her hands warily. He must have been the owner. Curious, Kenny tried to eavesdrop without looking too obvious. He was thankful that the man led her to the bar top, which was close enough to hear, but not close enough for her to notice him.

She set her basket on the counter and took a seat on one of the stools next to the man.

“So what can I do for you, young lady?” asked the man.

“I’m Cleo. Cleo Aston. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

“Paul.”

Cleo nodded before continuing. “So, I’m a baker. I mostly bake out of my home, but I want to get my foot in the door at some of the city’s smaller cafés.”

“Do you have any training?”

“Well, no, but I’m confident in what I bring to the table.”

Paul nodded toward the basket. “What’s in there?”

“I brought some samples for you to try. There’s cinnamon rolls, muffins, and strudels.” Cleo began unwrapping the pastries.

Paul took a bite of each one, taking his time in between. Cleo watched him hopefully, and Kenny couldn’t help but do the same. He was internally rooting for her.

After a few minutes of bites and silence, Paul turned toward her. “Look, sweetheart. These are good, don’t get me wrong. But I just don’t know if they’re good enough to be sold here.”

---