“I’m in the kitchen,” my mother called out.  I smiled; it was a good sign when she was in the kitchen after a day at work in a kitchen.

I found her a minute later, arm deep in dough.  “You’re making bread!”  I loved her bread, as did lots of other people.  My mum was renowned for her bread making skills.  People from all over Brisbane flocked to her café to satisfy their desire for it.  Well, they used to anyway.  These days her café wasn’t doing so well; it was the reason I’d recently moved back home with her.  She needed help financially to keep her business afloat, so I’d come home to help her out.  I now divided my time between my part time job at the vets and working with mum in her café.  Besides, after I’d kicked that cheating asshole to the curb, leaving my life in Gympie behind hadn’t been a hard thing to do.  A fresh start was just what I needed.

She paused and looked up at me, her nose coated in flour and a look of total happiness on her face.  When she broke out in a huge smile, my spirit soared.  I hadn’t seen her smile like that since I’d come home, and that had been three months ago.  Watching my mother going through the motions of life but not feeling it had been a hard thing to do.

“I’m making bread,” she said, simply, but there was nothing simple about that statement.  Those three words told me so much more than just the fact she was making bread.  This kitchen, and that bread was her happy place; a place she hadn’t been in for too long.

I placed my handbag and keys on the kitchen table before making my way to the kettle to make a coffee.  Mum’s kitchen was huge with a big island bench in the centre where she did all her cooking.  One side of the bench had stools and I pulled one out and sat on it after I put the kettle on.

“So, you had a good day.  What happened?”  I placed my elbows on the counter and rested my chin in my palms as I waited to hear what had brightened her day.

“A couple of restaurants placed standing orders for cakes today, and I picked up a stack of wedding cake orders too.”

The other thing my mother was known for?  You guessed it, cakes.  They were to die for and I’d always been surprised that she didn’t sell more than she did.  I’d spent the last couple of weeks marketing her cakes to local businesses and it looked like my work was paying off.

“That’s great.  You’ll have to teach me how to make some of these cakes so that I can help you with the orders.”

“Pfft, you don’t need teaching.  I already did that while you were growing up.  Your baking skills are as good as mine, love.”

“So, we’re going to be busy making cakes.  I really should try to find a night job so that I can work with you every day rather than at the vet’s.”

“Well, you know how I feel about you working there.  That man treats you so badly and expects you to put up with a lot from his customers.”  My mother didn’t like my boss and had tried many times to get me to quit my job, but I’d been looking for another job and there just wasn’t anything out there at the moment.  I needed a part time job to help my mum pay the bills; working full time in her café just wasn’t financially possible yet.

“I know, Mum.  I’m looking, I promise.”  The kettle boiled and I hopped up to make coffee for us both.

“Good,” she said, as she continued to knead the dough.  “Now, tell me about your day.”

* * *

I was reminded of my promise to look for a new job the next morning when the first customer of the day abused me for the vet being late to work.  Biting my tongue, I calmly made up an excuse for why my boss wasn’t at work yet.  I was quickly running out of excuses because this was becoming a common occurrence.  So far, his whole family was either sick or dead, his car was ready for the scrap heap due to the number of times it had broken down and he’d suffered from enough illnesses that his immune system should have packed it in weeks ago.  Yeah, I was over this; it really was time to ditch this job.

Four hours later, Scott Cole strode through the front doors and caused an explosion of sensations in my tummy.  This was the last thing I wanted to feel when I saw him but a girl can’t always control these things.  Shit, I needed to get laid; it had been awhile and even longer since a guy had actually managed to get me to scream without faking it.  I bet Scott would have me screaming all night long with no faking required.  Just looking at him turned me on; god he was built.  I could happily sit for hours letting my eyes roam over those muscles.  His hair was light brown and cut close to his head; another turn on for me because really, you didn’t want hair to get in the way of a good time, right?  I’d had friends who loved guys with long hair, but I always wondered if all that hair would just be in the way when he got down and dirty.  Yeah, give me really short hair any day.  Now, the thing that really did me in where Scott was concerned; his lips.  They were full and pouty, and I shivered at the thought of what those lips could do to me.  My gaze dropped to his chest and I took in his tight black t-shirt and his biker vest.  I’d seen the name of his club on the back of it yesterday when he left; the Storm Motorcycle Club.  The vest was the only thing about Scott that did nothing for me.

“I’ve come to collect Monty,” he stated, like I may have forgotten which pet was his.  Not likely.  I doubted anyone ever forgot Scott; there was an indescribable something about him that was not easily forgotten.  He projected male dominance and total confidence, along with a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude.  Actually, Scott was unlike any man I’d ever met before.  Sure, I’d dated some guys that had that alpha personality about them, but Scott was alpha to the extreme from what I’d seen.  He filled the room when he was in it; his presence totally dominated it and commanded your attention.

I decided to play with him a little; partly to see how he would handle it and partly because I was bored out of my mind.  “Monty who?”

Confusion fleetingly crossed his face before the self-assured mask he seemed to wear so well was back in place.  “Funny.”

I shrugged.  “Some customers would find it funny but something tells me that you don’t have much of a sense of humour.”  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them.  Shit, it was bad enough to insult a customer, but to insult this badass could be taking it too far.

His eyes widened.  Bugger.  I waited for him to erupt; I hadn’t forgotten that temper of his.  But then a smirk slowly appeared and the tension left me, to be replaced with butterflies.  Yeah, he was one sexy man, especially when he looked at me like that.  “You’d be right with that assumption.  And it shocks the shit out of me that I find you amusing, but I do.”

Well, colour me surprised.  I cocked my head to the side and smiled at him.  He was a bit of an enigma to me; so far I knew that he was the kind of man who disliked rudeness, but also the kind of man who didn’t look out for his sick pet.  He had a temper on him and didn’t hesitate to threaten a stranger, but he also treated his kid with such gentleness and kindness.  This was one complex man.  He smiled back, and oh my freaking god, when that dimple popped, I swear my panties almost caught on fire.

That dimple managed to scramble my thoughts, so I was sure I looked like a complete idiot when I said, “Uh, yeah, I’ll just go get Monty for you.”  I scurried out to the back without a second glance at Scott; I didn’t need to confirm how stupid I must have just looked.

A couple of minutes later, I placed the cat cage we’d put Monty in, onto the front counter.  “Here he is; all better.”

Scott took one look at Monty and then his eyes flew to mine.  “What the fuck happened to his face?”

“Sorry, I should have mentioned that before I brought him out.  We had to remove some of his skin because it had died.  We’ve flushed the wound and now we need any further infection to drain out, so we’ve left the wound open.  You’ll need to keep it clean as the pus and blood drain from it.  Just use a cloth to wipe it away.  Also, keep this collar on him so that he can’t scratch or lick the wound, which he will try to do.  He’s been given antibiotics so he’s well on his way to a complete recovery now.”

Scott’s full focus was on what I was saying.  Even though he’d taken his sweet time to bring Monty in, I felt certain that he would do everything to make sure his cat recovered quickly.  “Jesus, the poor fuckin’ cat.  Okay, I’ll be calling you if I hit trouble with this; he’s not getting this sick again.”

I nodded.  “Good, and yes, please don’t hesitate to call us if you feel he’s not recovering.”

Scott pulled out his wallet.  “Right, how much do I owe you?”

I pulled up his invoice on the computer.  “For the operation, anaesthetic and antibiotics, it comes to a total of five hundred and seventy dollars please.”

“Fuck me!  You sure that’s right?”

“Yes,” I replied, wondering if I was going to have an argument on my hands.  I sighed.  This was the least favourite part of my job; arguing with pet owners who didn’t want to spend the money to get their pet better.

He shook his head and ran his hand over his hair, visibly annoyed, but he handed over his credit card.  “Christ, I hope he won’t need a follow up appointment.”

I put the payment through and gave him his card back.  “You’ll need to bring him back in ten days, but there won’t be a fee.  We just need to take out the couple of stitches he does have and check to make sure he’s healing.  It’ll only be a very quick visit,” I assured him.

“Okay, so we’re done here?” he asked as he lifted the cat cage.