This scene was cut from one of the unfinished rough drafts of Bitten by Lightning. It was originally Jacky and Dorian’s second date, but it could happen anytime after the events in Bitten by Lightning. It’s been edited to ensure a bit of continuity.

My mom lived in a old split-level house in Layton, not too far from the old highway. It was a very nice neighborhood, and she kept the house in near perfect repair. 

Dorian parked on the street, leaning over to look at the place where I’d grown up. 

“What does your mother do for a living?” he asked. 

“Soap.” 

He gave me one of his looks. 

It made me smile. “No, really. She makes and sells handmade artisan soap.” 

Of course, her small business was really small. It certainly wasn’t enough to pay for a mortgage in this day and age, but she’d inherited the house, and she’d made a small fortune during her misspent youth—her words. Fortune enough that she didn’t actually need to work. She made soap because she liked it, and she needed something to do with her time after I moved out and boredom settled in.

Instead of going to the front door, I led the way to the side door into the garage, a bemused Dorian following me. I knew my mom. She would have taken Blue and Zach straight to her workshop to show off her latest creations. 

I pushed through the door and took a deep breath. Smelled like she’d been working with lavender, citrus, and something earthy. 

“Is that patchouli?” I asked. 

“Oh, Jacky, there you are!” My mom didn’t turn from where she was showing a bar of soap to my sinners. “I was just telling Adrian and Zach about this new scent combination. I remember your Adrian saying he liked earthy fragrances, but not if they made him smell like incense, which I must say, I can’t really blame him. Incense is fine, but it does cling to everything doesn’t it? Come, smell this and tell me what you think.” 

Blue gave me a wry look and shrugged. Apparently he hadn’t expected his off-hand remark to inspire her to find something just for him. He should have known better. Mom made soap first for the people she loved, second for the people on the internet who watched her creation process videos, and last for the people who bought the bars. 

“Mom, this is Dorian,” I said as I joined her. 

Bracing one hand on her shoulder I leaned over and took in her latest creation. The bar itself was marbled swirls of silver, grey, and a gorgeous earthy blue. She’d textured the top—as was her wont—and sprinkled colored salts down the center. No sparkles. Probably because this was her attempt to appease Blue, and he didn’t go for sparkles. 

“Vampires,” he’d told me with great dignity when I poked fun at him about his complete aversion to anything even remotely glittery, “do not sparkle.”

Curious now, I leaned in closer and gave it a delicate sniff—sometimes the scented oils she used were strong—then took a deeper, longer breathe. “It smells like petrichor.” 

“Doesn’t it just?” Mom said, sounding thrilled. “I’m calling it Rain Dance. And hello, Dorian. You can call me Fae. Unless you’re another of Jacky’s sinners, then you may call me Mom. Honestly, Jacky, if you don’t bind a girl next, people are going to assume you’re putting together a harem of sexy men to satiate your incorrigible lusts.” 

Dorian choked, then coughed, trying to stifle his laughter. Zach snickered hard enough he had to clap a hand to Blue’s shoulder to stay upright. 

“Dorian’s not my sinner, Mom,” I said, unfazed. She knew I lived somewhere on the asexual spectrum and was fine with that. “He’s my date.” 

She perked up. “Date?” 

“Mm. What else do you have curing? I smell lavender and something citrusy?” 

Taking Blue’s unresisting hand, she slapped the bar into it and curled his fingers over it. “That’s for you, dear heart. Unless you don’t like the scent?” she asked archly. 

“It’s perfect,” he assured her solemnly. “Thank you. I’ll enjoy using it.” 

She beamed at him and pecked his cheek before she turned her ferocious good cheer on Dorian, who stood blinking as if he’d been walloped in the head with a sack of bricks. 

Now it was my turn to snicker. Poor, poor empath had no idea what to do with my mother’s ebullience.

She swept her gaze over him in undisguised appreciation. 

“You,” she said. “I bet you like a good pine, don’t you?” 

“I actually prefer things with a bit of citrus and spice,” he said. 

She glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. 

I shrugged. “Can confirm. He smells like warm spices, something citrus that’s vaguely familiar but not, and something else.” 

“It’s yuzu,” Dorian said. “The citrus scent. Yuzu is the main note in my preferred cologne.” 

Oooh. That was why the scent seemed so familiar yet I couldn’t place it. “I used yuzu in a dessert at the bakery, once. Pricey things.” 

“What’s a yuzu?” Zach asked. 

“Japanese citrus,” my mom said. “A bit like lemon, a bit like grapefruit, but wholly unique. I think I have a fragrance oil with it somewhere. I liked that one.” She stepped right up to Dorian, unselfconsciously invading his personal space with a short, ‘pardon me,’ and then she went up on tiptoe to stick her nose right against his neck and breathe in deep. 

To his credit, Dorian only looked mildly alarmed at being sniffed by an older human woman, but he held himself still. 

She sighed appreciatively as she dropped back to the floor. 

“Oh, you are scrumptious, aren’t you? I think I have just the scent for you. I’m working on my August line right now. Lots of lemonade inspired scents.” 

“Lavender lemonade?” I asked, considering it. Could be good. I mean, it was a great flavor profile for cookies, so why not soap? 

“Lavender, strawberry, raspberry, watermelon, and peach,” Mom said. I made yummy sounds and she laughed, plucking out a box neatly stacked with several bars, separated by a sheet of parchment paper. “I knew you’d want some, so I set these aside for you. Do be sure to let them finish curing properly before you use them. Now, this is the one for you, Dorian. Give it a sniff.” 

The bar she picked up was creamy white marbled with shades of earthy green, a bit of yellow, and some soft brown. Accepting the bar, Dorian lifted it to his nose and closed his eyes as he breathed in the aroma. I watched, fascinated. 

“Bergamot,” he said. “Mm. That’s one I enjoy. A bit of…eucalyptus?” 

Mom made a pleased sound. 

“And a warmer scent. Amber or musk, I gather.” 

“Amber,” my mom said. 

He breathed in again, and made an appreciative sound low in his throat that did unnerving things to my insides. 

“Divine,” he said. He started to pass it back to her, but she caught his hand and curled his fingers over it. 

“For you,” she said. 

He inclined his head in a solemn bow. “Thank you.” 

Flustered, she flapped her hand at him, then snatched some more bars of soap from the curing racks. 

“These are for your werewolf friend, Jacky,” she said. “This one—” she held up an uncolored bar, which was unusual for her “—is completely unscented, though it does have coconut milk, and that’s a fairly rich scent all on its own. This other—” another cream, but this one had light marbling in a purplish grey “—is as lightly scented as I can make it. Let me know if he thinks it’s still too strong. And what he thinks of the unscented bar.” 

She placed them on top of the box with my own bars, then took Blue’s bar from him and added it to the stack, then plucked out a couple more. 

“Mom!” I protested. “If you give us any more, we’ll never be able to use it all.” 

“Oh, tish-tosh. You know the proper way to store it, and good soap is still good soap even if the fragrance fades a bit.” 

Smiling, I set the box on the work table and wrapped my arms around her. 

“You’re awesome,” I said. 

She patted my back. “I love you, too, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you go get the rolls in the oven?”