Page 131

Reggie nodded and walked behind the counter, then into the prep area, where a huge oven baked the pies. She opened the door at the end and found herself at the foot of a staircase.

“Courage,” she whispered before squaring her shoulders.

She took the stairs two at a time, then walked down the short hallway. Only one door stood open, so she moved toward it and found Toby at his desk, his attention on his computer.

He looked good, she thought, admiring his broad shoulders and the way his intense expression made him even sexier. In that second before he spotted her, she imagined him smiling—a welcoming smile with a hint of wicked. Then he would stand and cross to her before pulling her close and—

“Reggie?”

His tone of confusion and faint wariness was not what she’d been wishing for, she thought, holding in a sigh. She faked a bright smile.

“Hi. Yes, it’s me. I’ll only keep you a second.”

She took a seat in one of the visitors’ chairs.

“Fear not. I come in peace and to talk business.”

His expression warmed. “We weren’t fighting. There’s no need to come in peace.”

“Fine. Then I promise not to tell you all the things wrong with your life.”

“You always did have firm opinions.”

“I still do.”

“So I heard. How are you?”

The question surprised her. He wanted to do the friendly chitchat thing? “I’m fine. It’s supposed to snow tomorrow. We’ll see if that happens. At this point, I’m more anxious than hopeful.”

“Everyone is tense about the snow. Or lack of snow.”

“We are a desperate people.” She opened her bag and withdrew the holders, but kept them in her hand. “Your pies are messy.”

His eyebrows rose. “Okay. Thanks for sharing.”

She groaned, knowing she was going about this all wrong. “Don’t get mad. I’m not being critical. I’m stating a fact. Sometimes the pies are messy. They’re always delicious, but if the crust cracks, then the whole thing falls apart in your hand. The bakery tissues don’t help, and if you forgot napkins, you’re stuck with pie filling all over your fingers. The pie holders a lot of fast food places use are the wrong shape for your product.”

He studied her as if not sure of her point. “And?”

“And I was thinking about it. Part of my job is to help my inventors with their designs. I offer suggestions on how to make whatever it is easier for the end user. It’s my thing.” She handed over one of the holders. “So I made this.”

He took it from her and turned it over in his hands. “To hold the pies.”

“Yes. It’s still paper, but it’s thicker, and the folds make it much sturdier. Even if the pie cracks, it’s not going anywhere. The paper is scored so the user can fold it in a fan shape to push the broken pieces toward the top. The paper is food-grade, and if you order enough of it, you can have a logo on it. I know the cost is multiples of bakery tissue, but the ultimate pie-eating experience is so much better with it.”

She told herself to stop talking and let him be. The fact that she had no idea what he was thinking was her problem. She knew the design was good and the concept sound. Yes, there was a cost differential, so he could easily dismiss what she’d done, but that didn’t change the quality of the product.

He looked at her. “When did you do this?”

“I’ve been working on it for a while.” She pushed the folder toward him. “I found three manufacturers and asked for bids. Just to give you some idea of costs.”

He swore under his breath. “Two nights ago you told me I was an idiot for not wanting to date you.”

“I don’t think those were my exact words.”

“Close enough. And while that was happening, you were doing this?”

“I don’t see what one has to do with the other.”