The Return of the Bad boy

Chapter 1: Cam

Not all surprises were great, except mine usually are.

I didn't mean to brag, but I should get a gold medal for these kinds of things because the look on my mom's face when she saw me pull up in front of her hair salon on my motorcycle was to die for.

All the times I'd spoken to her on the phone and video chat, I never once mentioned that I was the proud of owner of a motorcycle. Let alone the fact that I got my motorcycle license over the summer.

The shock hadn't lasted as long as I hoped because it was quickly replaced with that overprotective mama bear face, thrown in was that famous hands on hips pose. I knew what was coming. I was going to get an earful which was why I came prepared.

I turned off the bike, removed my helmet then gave my thick hair a shake. It was long enough to cover my eyes now, so I usually kept it sleeked back into a man bun unless I was wearing my helmet.

I reached for the bouquet sticking out of my backpack and the box of Godiva chocolates. Then I casually strolled through the glass doors, using my free hand to fling it open. "Hey, Mom!" I gave her a toothy grin. "Surprise!"

"Cameron Alexander St. James!" She shouted sternly, but her expression was soft, and her eyes filled with warmth. She missed me.

And me being the mama's boy that I am, I had missed her too. I held out my presents, almost like a "don't kick my butt" offering. Fingers crossed it worked.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't try to butter me up, mister. You can't waltz in here with my favorite flowers...."

"And chocolates," I mentioned in case she missed them.

Her mouth formed an O when she saw it. Then her bottom lip jutted out as she threw a hand over her heart. "I have the sweetest son." She leaned in to sniff the flowers in my hands with a smile creeping up on her lips.

I thought I was in the clear. My shoulders slumped with relief. But I had jumped to that conclusion all too quickly. Mom's hand flew, slapping my bicep. I felt the sharp sting. If I hadn't been wearing my biker jacket, I would have witnessed my arm turning pink then red with her handprint rising to the surface.

"This doesn't excuse you not telling me you were coming home early. I could have been busy. I wanted time to cook you a nice dinner and maybe throw a party. I don't know." She huffed out a breath through her nose, her brows pinched together.

A chuckle escaped me, then I took a step back because that could have cost me a slap upside my head next for being as bold as to laugh at my mother in this situation.

"Completely unnecessary," I replied, knowing it's not what she wanted to hear. "I wouldn't want to see all those people anyways." That's the truth. I was happy to be home, and seeing her was enough.

Mom waved off my response. I knew she was going to plan something no later than tomorrow night.

I changed the subject. "At least it doesn't seem like you're swamped today." I looked around the place.

On a Saturday, Mom would usually be booked and busy from opening to closing. But today, every seat was empty, and the waiting area resembled a ghost town. "Don't tell me you have actual competition in town or something." That was the only logical explanation as to why the best hair salon in town was empty.

Mom diverted her gaze from mine. She fought off a frown and chose to give me a forced smile. "Slow business day, I guess." Snatching the flowers and chocolates out of my hands, she dropped them on the counter. "Yesterday was a lot more packed," she mumbled, but I couldn't shake the feeling that she was lying. She had no reason to, but it was hard to believe her.