Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,150

North Queensland sun.

‘You can’t,’ she insisted when he gave it to her.

‘I must,’ he said. ‘It cost five bucks, and remember I overcharge. Besides your nose is pink.’

Though it was a size too big, she gave in and slapped it atop her neat bob and he was sure she walked closer as they continued to window-shop.

Nestled in amongst the brightly coloured shop fronts selling tie-dyed clothes, local artwork and bric-a-brac sat Sloppy Joe’s—a rundown café that looked as though the town had been built around it.

When they wandered into the empty room, the couple sitting smoking something sweet at the front table peeled themselves from their chairs. One pulled out a notepad and the other ambled into the kitchen.

‘Busy day?’ James asked the waitress, tongue firmly in cheek.

‘Too busy for my liking,’ the waitress agreed, then grinned at him through her chewing gum and pointed to a booth in the corner.

‘Do you think the people in this place know what a cappuccino is?’ Siena whispered, pulling off her hat and ruffling a hand up the back of her hair, which was beginning to curl despite the effort that had obviously gone into keeping it smooth.

‘We’ll soon find out.’

‘Do you come here often?’ Siena asked, her inquisitive eyes darting about the room, taking in the bright paintings for sale on the dark walls, the unswept concrete floor and slow-moving ceiling fans pushing the humid heat around the room.

‘Not for ages. My grandad was a cabinet-maker before me and he ran a stall at the markets up here. He swore by their all-day breakfast. But that was a while back.’

‘Did he teach you everything you know?’ she asked, sliding into the vinyl booth, which squeaked as she sat.

‘Not everything,’ he said. Again he heard a note of flirtation which was unintended. Okay, so maybe this time it was.

Maybe he wanted to know if she realised that he had taken a huge leap in inviting her out for coffee. The night before he’d confessed to her about Dinah, and he was all but sure she wasn’t oblivious to the effect she had on him.

Siena blinked back at him. His whole body warmed under her direct gaze before she grabbed the jar of sugar and twirled the cut glass distractedly around and around between her palms.

‘What can I getcha?’ the waitress—who looked as though she had probably worked there back in the day—asked when she arrived at their table.

‘Two cappuccinos and two breakfast specials?’ James asked.

‘Perfect,’ Siena said shortly, all her earlier ease dissipated. Something had definitely spooked her. She wasn’t the same free and easy girl from the day before. Now she looked as nervous as he felt.

The waitress gave them a smile and a wink, before tucking her notebook in the waist of her skirt and her pencil back behind her ear and sauntering off to the kitchen.

And then they were alone. Alone. On a date. Of sorts. James and a girl. A woman. A lovely woman. A woman who was obviously for some reason second-guessing being there with him.

As Siena looked about the room, her skittish glance landing on everything but him, he wondered what the hell he had been thinking when he’d woken up that morning.

But, since he had always been pathologically intent on making the best of things, he asked, ‘What did you call your brother earlier? Rigatoni?’

As intended, the sideways barb at her brother brought about a flash of a smile. She shoved the sugar back against the wall and started flicking through the pile of paper napkins.

‘My brother and cousin and I were all named after towns in Tuscany,’ she said, ‘where our parents were all born. Rick is Riccione. My cousin Ash is actually Asciano, and I am, well, Siena.’

He had to stop himself from reaching out and laying a hand over hers to stop her fidgeting, but her nerves were all of a sudden running so hot he had the feeling she might spontaneously combust if he tried.

‘It’s a beautiful name,’ he said, trying to get a reaction from her that wasn’t born of nervous tension. She was giving off so much energy that even his usually solid on the ground feet tapped beneath the table. ‘It suits you.’

Her mouth curled in what was meant to be a smile, but to him it seemed more of a sort of grimace, and he felt himself deflating.

He’d made a huge mistake.

He’d been reading into things she had said and done that simply mustn’t have been there. Maybe