Page 1 of The Rescue

1

Rabbie

Being the new ownerof Sweet Treats isn’t easy,and I’m starting to feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. Before I became the owner of Sweet Treats, I’d been the baker for over ten years. It was my first job, and I’ve been here ever since.

When it came to Mrs. Graham retiring I couldn’t let someone else buy the business. Sweet Treats was my life, and it was also my home. When I moved out of my Nan’s house, Mrs. Graham was kind enough to let me live in the wee flat above the cafe.

Not much had gone right in my life as a wee lad, but I was proud of the little life I had built, and I had Mrs. Graham and Sweet Treats to thank for that. There was no doubt in my mind, I wanted to buy the business.

When Mrs. Graham owned Sweet Treats; she only sold baked goods that were made that morning, and once they were all gone, she would close for the day. Before her retirement, she let me take on a management role to prepare me for taking over thebusiness. I had a vision to expand the business, it started with keeping the cafe open for the whole day, serving tea, coffee and food like sandwiches, and of course my famous scones.

Then I started to expand selling baked goods outside of the cafe with Mac wanting a few hot pies to sell at The Drunken Duck, and then it just snowballed from there. Now a lot of local businesses want my baked goods. I’ve always been told my baking is the best in the Highlands, but I struggle to accept the praise. I’m not one for gloating or letting my ego get the best of me. Although I will take pride in my scones, they are my best sellers.

I’ve been the owner for just over a year now, and my business is growing bigger, even bigger than I imagined. Since I bought Sweet Treats, I’ve hired a few local young people to help me in the cafe serving customers, while I can be in the kitchen baking. Nellie and David are lifesavers, I don’t know how I would cope without them. Recently, the orders have gotten so out of control that deliveries and orders have been getting mixed up, and the local business owners are starting to get frustrated with me.

This is where I lack the skills in being a business owner. I’ve been taking orders over the phone, and I’ll write it down on the whiteboard in the kitchen, but this obviously has its flaws, things accidentally get rubbed off, or I would write the wrong orders down in a rush.

This system clearly isn’t working for me anymore, and I needed to change that. What I needed was a website with an order form that people can fill out, and I can access them on my computer. I needed to hire someone who could create one for me, because I’m just a baker; I don’t know the first thing about websites.

When Dylan told me about her friend, Crystal, who was coming to visit at the end of summer, and who happened to be agraphic and website designer, it seemed like a no-brainer for me to hire her to create the website for me.

So I asked Dylan for Crystal’s email address and I emailed her straight away, and we corresponded over the summer. I met her briefly at The Drunken Duck a few days ago when she arrived, but she was busy catching up with Dylan and I didn’t want to talk business when they hadn’t seen each other in so long.

I scheduled a meeting with her today at Sweet Treats after we closed for the day so we can talk business. I look down at my watch, she’s late. Very late. Maybe she changed her mind. I stand to rise from my seat when she comes bursting through the door like a bull in a china shop.

I didn’t really take her in when we met briefly a few days before. It’s only when a gust of wind from outside blew her hair around her face that I truly took her in. She’s small and petite, with long red hair that looks like copper. She frantically brushes it away, looking flustered. Her piercing green eyes are cat shaped and her skin is dotted with little brown freckles.

“Crap, I’m so sorry I’m a little late,” she spluttered in her thick American accent.

I raised my eyebrow at her. “A little? You’re over forty-five minutes late. Get lost, did you?”

I’m not very good at wearing my big boss pants, I never pictured myself being one, so it’s hard for me to carry some authority.

She flattens her hair out of her moss green eyes and frowns at me. “I’m sorry, I had to walk here from Thistle Down Farm. The Scottish weather isn’t very nice to walk in, and it’s blowing a gale out there.”

Now I feel like a prick for being short with her, “You walked here? Why didn’t you say I could’ve given you a ride or met you at Thistle Down.”

“Cam did say I could borrow his car, but the thought of driving on the wrong side of the road scares the shit out of me,” she laughs nervously.

Her honesty is refreshing, and I can’t help but stare at her. She has an aurora about her that’s captivating. We both stand there with an awkwardness between us now. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, and she rubs her hands together to warm them up.

“You must be freezing, let me make you a cup of tea. Please take a seat,” I motion to the cosy sofa in the corner of the cafe.

She smiles softly at me, and takes off her jacket. She piques my interest. Her style is different to most of the women in the village, or any woman I know for that matter. She’s definitely not dressed for the wild Scottish weather. She drapes her oversized black leather jacket over the back of the chair, and I get a glimpse of her ivory legs in tiny denim shorts.Who wears denim shorts in Scotland, in this weather?

I try not to stare long enough, because I don’t want her to think I’m one of those guys. I want to be taken seriously as a new business owner, and because I don’t want to come across as inappropriate and unprofessional.

But I stare long enough to see that she’s rocking black leather cowboy boots that come up to her knees. I smile to myself because I get the impression that this woman isn’t afraid to be herself. I busied myself by making a pot of tea for us both, and added some cookies to the tray.

“Cool tee.” I say trying to break the ice between us. If she’s going to be working for me I should try to get to know her a little bit.

I put the tray down on the coffee table and sit across from her in the armchair. She looks down at the old country band t-shirt that she’s wearing, and smiles up at me.

“Thanks,” she leans forward and takes a cookie as I pour her a cup of tea.

“I didn’t think girls liked country music, I thought it was mostly pop music you liked,” I say as I pass her the cup of tea. As soon as the words came out of my mouth I cringed, I never stereotype people but I guess our little encounter has made me a little nervous and it felt like a good icebreaker. Her green eyes are slightly intimidating, I try to come across as cool and relaxed.

She takes a bite of her cookie, and smirks at me. “Sugar, I’m not like most girls,” she winks at me. I choke on my tea and a coughing fit ensues from her insinuating comment. The flirtatious innuendo lingers between us, her green eyes twinkling at me. After composing myself and Crystal looking thoroughly amused, I turn the conversation towards business.

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