I start baking since it’s the only thing that has relaxed me over the years.
When my mom spent more time trying to marry rich and switching from man to man than with me, I had started to bake when I was alone, which was often. She never really spent much time at home, and I am thankful that she only brought a guy around when she was ready to marry him or had married him already. The first time she got married without me, I was hurt, but my mom hadn’t been the same person since my father had passed away. I don’t think I could remember a time when she was an actual mother and treated me the way that I wished she would.
I always found a shelter to give all my baked goods to since my mom wouldn’t be caught dead eating one of my tasty treats. I knew they were good too because I spent hours and hours perfecting a recipe.
I imagine that a clubhouse of bikers with their Old Ladies and children wouldn’t mind some baked goods.
A couple hours later, I am deep in my process of baking muffins when a throat clears. I turn around to see the biker from earlier. He raises an eyebrow while looking at the counter and table full of muffins that were already finished. I had looked through the freezer and cupboards and realized that Sasha had ingredients to make blueberry, banana chip, and chocolate chip muffins, so I made a batch of each.
I give him a shy smile and clear my throat so that it doesn’t sound shaky talking to the hottest man I have ever seen.
“Help yourself.” Wow, great talk there Sophie. Keep going, you will blow him away with your conversation skills. I shake my head at the thought. I don’t need any more man problems right now. I have enough going on.
I have never been great at talking to the opposite sex. I feel like I say the wrong things all the time or, if I do say the right things, they sound weird coming from me.
“Why did you make all of these?” he asks curiously. I don’t sense any judgement from his tone which is good because he is too hot to be judgemental. That would ruin the whole image. I know that I’m already building an image of what he’s like in my mind, but I can’t help myself. He looks like someone that I could only dream about.
“I just like to bake,” I say, lamely shrugging my shoulders.
I finally have the courage to take him all in, well, more than I did before. He’s got brown hair with light brown eyes. There’s a bit of scruff on his face, but that just adds to his appeal. He’s built, but not in a huge way where I would be scared to be alone with him, or big my like uncle Bear. I’d say that he’s the perfect size, perfect size for what? I ask myself.
I don’t realize that I have been staring at his body until I meet his eyes and he gives me a knowing smirk.
I can’t help but blush in embarrassment. I can’t believe that I just openly checked him out and was caught doing it!
“Hey Trigger, what brings you by?” my aunt Sasha comes in from where she has been hiding for the last few hours. She walks over to the counter and picks up a blueberry muffin causing Trigger to pick up a banana chip one. I make a note to myself that he likes the banana ones for absolutely no reason at all, nope.
“Watch,” he says it like it explains it all and, by glancing at my aunt, I can tell that it really does. Hmmm… Wow I really wish that I knew the biker lingo. Even though that one should be self explanatory, I would like to know what he’s on watch for.
They talk for a few minutes, and Trigger keeps glancing at me causing butterflies to swirl around in my stomach. That is a reaction I haven’t had in a long time.
It’s not long after that my uncle Bear comes into the kitchen and grabs himself a muffin and joins in on the conversation.
“Holy shit these are good muffins. ‘You make these Sophie?” Uncle Bear asks as he takes another huge bite out of the muffin. Wow, these are like two bite muffins for a big guy like him.
I nod my head and my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. I’m not used to someone complimenting my baking, nor being the center of attention. I always just wanted to blend into the background.
“You didn’t have to bake, you know. We are happy to have you here with or without your baking,” he says seriously.
“I know, but I love to bake. Back home I would bake all the time since I was always left alone; but since no one I knew would eat it, I would drop them off at shelters. Vince or my mom never minded because it played into the image that they wanted to have for me.” I say the last part quietly when I notice that everyone seems to be holding in their anger including my Aunt Sasha.
I keep on talking since no one seems to be saying anything. “Well, I figured that since there were so many bikers with their Old Ladies and kids that no one would mind eating the baking here.”
“That’s great, honey, but you don’t need to do anything for anyone. You know that, right?” Aunt Sasha asks with a serious voice, but then her hand reaches out for another muffin and she has no shame about stuffing it in her face.
I nod
