Table Of ContentHungry for Owen
Cameron Hart
Copyright © 2020 Cameron Hart
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not
intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This book is dedicated to all of my hungry ladies... Owen has just what you're craving ;)
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Chapter 1
Owen
“G
ood thing I love my sister,” I grumble to myself as I pull into Sweet Perfection, my sister’s
favorite bakery. Chelsea is seven and a half months pregnant and has a craving for macaroons.
Usually, I don't mind doing favors or running errands for my family. We're a tight-knit bunch, with
my parents and siblings and their spouses living so close. But today has been a long-ass day and I'm
dead tired.
As the foreman of a construction crew, it’s up to me to pick up the slack when we’re getting close
to a deadline. One of my guys called in sick today and another one had a minor accident involving his
hand and a hammer – the idiot. Add on the fact that we’re trying to finish up this hotel project before
Thanksgiving next week and yeah, I’m in no mood to run to a bakery on the other side of town.
I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders back, sighing when some of the tension leaves my
aching muscles. I finally get out of my truck and head inside.
“I’ll be right with you!” The bright, cheery voice floats in the air, then washes over my skin like
melted chocolate. Shit, is my dick getting hard right now? From a voice? What the hell? “Sorry to
make you wait, what can I get for you?”
Mine.
The word sinks down into my chest, settling deep into my heart. She’s an angel with red hair and
light blue eyes. Freckles dot her delicate face, and suddenly I need to kiss each one of them.
My sweet baker is a tiny thing, but there's no mistaking her feminine curves. I have to fight the
urge to wrap her up in my arms, as well as the urge to bend her over the display case and fuck her
rough and dirty until I feel her come all over cock.
I shake my head, dispelling my filthy thoughts. I realize I’ve just been staring at the goddess in
silence. I think she asked me a question, but hell if I can remember anything right now.
The captivating woman doesn't seem to be doing much better than I am. Her brilliant blue eyes
sweep over my body, and a sweet, sexy as fuck blush creeps up her neck and settles in her creamy
round cheeks.
When her gaze finally snaps up to mine, her eyes widen and her blush deepens. She clears her
throat and smooths out some imaginary wrinkles on her frilly yellow apron. “How can I help you?”
There are so many ways this hot little baker can help me. A picture of her down on her knees
looking up at me with those big blue eyes while her pouty lips stretch around my cock flashes across
my mind, but I don’t dare say that out loud.
“Macaroons,” I blurt out like an idiot. My voice is rough, so I clear my throat and try again,
hoping to sound like a human instead of a goddamn beast ready to sink its teeth into its prey. “My
sister requested a box of your chocolate maple macaroons.”
“Your sister has excellent taste.” The woman smiles at me, and I swear to God I feel it all the way
down to the soles of my work boots. It’s that fucking powerful. She opens the display case and bends
over to reach for the tray of macaroons. From this angle, I can see just a hint of her cleavage.
“Anything else?” she asks when the macaroons are boxed up.
“Uh, yes,” I say, not wanting our interaction to be over. “Coffee. And, um, a muffin. For here. I
want to eat here,” I stutter out. I’m usually confident and in control, which makes me a good foreman
and a good big brother to my crazy siblings. But right now? Right now, I’m in uncharted territory. I’m
lost at sea, but what a beautiful sea it is.
“What kind of muffin would you like?”
“What’s your favorite?”
“The pumpkin spice is very popular this time of year. So is the spiced cranberry.”
“Hmm. Those look good, but what’s your favorite?”
The angel looks down at the bakery case and smiles softly. “I love the pecan pie cinnamon roll. It
was one of my first holiday creations when I started working here.” She sneaks a glance in my
direction, then darts her eyes away again. “I suppose that’s pretty conceited of me, huh? Everything in
here is amazing. Francine, the owner, has been baking her whole life. Her recipes are perfection.
Hence the name.”
“That’s not conceited at all. It’s good to be proud of your work.” My words are rewarded with the
sweetest smile as she turns her face toward me once more.
We don’t say anything, but I feel something stirring my gut and taking over my entire body the
longer I stare into her ocean blue eyes. I study her perfect face, taking note of her high cheekbones and
little nose that turns up slightly at the tip. Long eyelashes frame her doe-like eyes, making them seem
even bigger than they are. She looks like the cutest fucking doll. My doll. Mine.
“Thanks,” she breathes out. It’s barely a whisper, but I feel the gratitude behind that one word. My
sweet girl is as genuine as they come.
“Any time, sweetness,” I murmur. Her eyes widen at my endearment for her. I think I’m just as
stunned as she is. I’ve never used endearments before, but with her, it feels right. “I’ll take the pecan
pie cinnamon roll to go with my coffee.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know the baker. I hear she came up with the recipe herself,” I say, winking at her. She grins at
me and rolls her eyes, showing me a hint of sass mixed in with all that sweetness. Damn if this isn’t
the recipe for my dream girl.
The bell above the door rings, signaling another customer entering. I pay for my food and go sit at
the table closest to the counter so I can keep an eye on my woman.
I watch my sweetness smile at the little boy who just walked in with his mom. He’s a ball of
energy, and my girl smiles down at him, clearly entertained by his antics and excitement. The mom,
however, looks frazzled and at the end of her rope. The angel behind the counter offers her a cup of
coffee on the house as well as a pastry of her choice. She looks so grateful she might cry.
If I wasn't already obsessed with her, that small gesture of kindness would have done it. She'll fit
right in with my family. They’re going to love her. My siblings and parents are always giving me a
hard time about being the eldest and the only one without a significant other. But I'm getting ahead of
myself. I need to get her to agree on a date before I think about introducing her to my family.
I focus my attention on the cinnamon roll in front of me. Taking my first bite, I can’t help but groan
as the toasted pecan and brown sugar flavor fills my mouth. My woman turns her head in my
direction, no doubt wondering why I sound like I’m having an orgasm. “This is amazing,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” she says with a shy little smile. I finish the pastry in three bites and make my way back
up to the counter. “Is there something else I can get for you?”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d let me take you to dinner.”
“Really? I mean, um…” Crap. She’s looking for an excuse. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Owen,” I’m quick to supply. “And yours?”
She stares at me for a long moment, deciding whether she’s going to give up this piece of
information. “Emery,” she finally answers.
“Will you let me take you to dinner, Emery?”
“I...I can’t. I, um, I’ve never been asked out before. God, why did I say that? Never mind. Ignore
me,” she mumbles.
“I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, sweetness. Allow me to be your first?” Her cheeks turn
absolutely scarlet, and yeah, my dick takes notice. “First date, that is,” I clarify. Are there other firsts
I can claim? I’d like all of them.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
My heart sinks, but I’m not giving up. I can tell I’m being too forward for an innocent little angel
like her. “I respectfully disagree,” I say with a grin. The left corner of her mouth curls up with the hint
of a smile, but she quickly schools her face. “But I can take a hint. I’ll be back tomorrow,” I tell her
with a wink.
I take another second to appreciate the beauty before me, then I book it out of the shop before I
throw her over my shoulder and demand she come home with me so I can claim her. Damn, I’ll have
to thank my sister for sending me all the way across town. She inadvertently introduced me to my
future wife, and that’s certainly something to be grateful for this Thanksgiving.
Chapter 2
Emery
A
s soon as Owen steps out of the bakery, I melt against the counter and take a deep breath. Good
lord, the man is too attractive for his own good. He has light brown hair that’s longer on top and
cropped close on the sides and soft lips that are the perfect contrast to his otherwise sharp, angular
features. If that’s not enough to make a girl swoon, his eyes remind me of my favorite chocolate
butterscotch cookies – dark brown with golden swirls.
And then there's his body. It’s clear Owen just came from working on a job site, and God, I didn't
know I had a thing for construction workers, but there's no denying my attraction to that man. He's
built, that's for sure, but not in a gym rat way. It's clear he gets his workouts while on the job. Why is
that so hot?
I regain a little bit of my composure when I see Sadie and her son, Tanner, get up from their table
and head for the door. “Thanks for stopping in!” I call to them with a wave.
“Emery, you’re the bright spot in my day every time I come in. Thanks for being so good to us,”
Sadie says.
Once they leave, the bakery is empty. I sigh and try to shake the image of Owen grinning at me, but
the more I try to shove him and his sexy self into the back of my head, the more I end up thinking about
him.
I roll my eyes at my ridiculous self. How could someone so gorgeous and undeniably sexy want to
take me on a date? What’s his agenda? Does he know the bakery is up for sale? Maybe he wants to
swoop in and buy it before I even get a chance to make Francine an offer.
I distract myself by wiping down the display case. There’s one pecan pie cinnamon roll left, and
it has my name on it. I deserve a little treat for surviving my encounter with Owen.
“Why did you turn down that fine piece of ass?”
I choke on my cinnamon roll, but recover quickly. I've been working for Francine for five years,
but she still catches me off guard sometimes with her sassy comments and potty mouth.
“Excuse me?” I manage to answer. She sets a timer for the cupcakes she just put in the oven, then
turns her head in my direction, giving me a knowing look.
“You heard me, girlie. He was undressing you with his eyes. Can’t say you were any better.”
