I’m making breakfast for one hundred and fifty people when she comes in. When she’s not busy managing the Inn, she likes to watch me cook or bake. I temporarily leave the bread I was just about to take out of the proofing basket, and begin to brew her a mug of peach-ginger tea while I plate her breakfast- two raspberry and cream cheese danishes, paired with an apple I cut up and drizzled with unsweetened peanut butter. She sits at the counter and digs in. I kiss her head and take a bit of her danish, while I go back to kneading bread.

I wake up earlier than all of the other staff to get ahead and start prepping things for the day. She hates it. She doesn’t like sleeping alone, and does her beast to wade me out the night before so I’ll have no choice but to stay in bed with her. It does not work, ever. Plus, she’s irritable when she’s tired. She’s snappy, can be mean- real black cat-type personality. She’s opinionated and unfriendly, but she’s smart and business savvy. All the staff love her, because she takes no bullshit from anyone.

I watch her eat and drink her tea. I move my bread dough over to the counter in front of her, and we chat quietly as she eats and I knead. I know she likes to watch because she thinks I’m hot- all muscle and scarred, freckled skin. She says lots of other lewd things about my appearance that I will not repeat. I lean over the dough and she kisses each of the dimples in my cheeks. I smile, wide, and I try to suppress it as I go back to kneading. She’s not terribly affectionate, especially not in public.

She walks over to the coffee pot and pours me a cup. She chooses my favourite mug, pours my the coffee then adds steamed vanilla-flavoured milk. She comes back over and gently tips it into my mouth. My hands are covered in dough, but if they weren’t, I would hold her face and kiss it all over. She’s being extra lovey this morning. She watches me knead the dough, picking at her apples. She’ll reach over to pop them in my mouth after hers, and I always kiss her fingertips as a thanks. “I thought we could go into town for some groceries, maybe get lunch, Sammy?” She asks, shifting her weight and opting another cube of apple into her mouth, then mine.

I chew, and nod. “Sure, Sweets. Whatever you need.” She rolls her at my nickname, but leaves it alone. The check-in clerk, Michelle, comes in to plop a small stack of paperwork in front of her, and I move onto kneading the next loaf. She groans, but begins doing… whatever needs doing. I’m not good with that kind of stuff. I can’t sit still that long, plus it’s so boring. I’m just glad I get to bake, instead of deal with the hassle she does. I love my job, and my girl. I’m getting good money and good sex, it’s a good time to be me, I guess.