Page 18 of Red Hot Roaster

“Nope and yeah,” I answered back, figuring he’d get my drift.

Rafe opened the passenger side door of his pickup and paused, eyeing—not in a pervy way, but in a frowny way—our short, tight skirts.

“Okay, Rose, you first,” he rumbled. “Turn your back to the door, and I’ll lift you up.”

I didn’t argue, because I realized I had no chance of climbing up on my own without everything showing. And by everything, I meant my panties, heinie and hoo-ha. When I was situated, Rafe did the same thing for Lauren.

He went around and climbed into the driver’s seat. The three of us were squished together on the bench. Luckily, manual transmissions were a thing of the past. I was pressed into rock-solid goodness, my left shoulder, arm and thigh right up against Rafe’s. Evidently, Princess was in pup heaven since she snuggled her muzzle on my left shoulder and sighed.

We made it back to Dogwood and my house in under twenty minutes, Lauren chatting all the way. And me? I was silent, holding it together. Rafe parked in my driveway, told us to sit tight and came around to open the passenger door. He lifted us both down and closed the door so Princess couldn’t follow. I repeated my thanks, trying to tamp down the effusiveness.

Then Lauren capped the evening.

“Rafe, thanks again for coming out to give us a ride,” she said. “And just think, it’s like one of those billboards. If you lived here in Rose’s apartment, you’d be home by now.”

I was so going to kill that girl.

Chapter 11

Rafe

What. The. Fuck.

I drove down Eighteenth toward the Chocolate Lab where two cop cars and a city ambulance crowded the curb in front of the café.

The last time my heart rate had spiked this way was two weeks ago when I’d gotten the call to pick up Rose and Lauren from the restaurant and take them home. Well, Rose’s home.

Yeah, my heart had beat double time when I’d learned they were planning to text a total stranger to give them a ride. At least, until Rose’s girl had decided to call me instead—on the sly, as it turned out.

Once back here, Lauren had followed up with her flip suggestion (or not so flip, hard to tell with that girl) about me living in Rose’s garage-turned-apartment.

I’d frozen because…how had she read my mind? Rose had seemed surprised, probably embarrassed, by the idea—if her red face had been any sign. Rather than saying anything, we’d both looked at our feet, then the garage, and then back at the pickup where Princess was sticking her head out the window and grinning. Obviously enjoying her part in the rescue mission.

I’d jumped into the breach, throwing out commands like I was back in the army.

“Rose, let me have your house keys. I’ll go in first, switch on some lights, and make sure everything’s okay. Is Pirate in the backyard?” I briefly paused until she nodded. “Good. You can let him in while I’m inside. And don’t call a taxi tomorrow morning to take you to your car. I’ll pick you up early, around five thirty, and take you over there.”

Okay, I’d been so far over the line, I couldn’t even see the line, it was so far in the distance.

I’d been lucky Rose hadn’t handed me my ass right then and there.

Instead, she’d looked stunned, and her girl had snorted. She’d stuck out her hand with the keys dangling. I’d grabbed them. Then we’d done everything I’d suggested.

In the last couple of weeks, our exchanges had been pretty much “just-the-facts-ma’am.” That was after Rose had again apologized for the late-night call, and I’d given her a look. Princess had continued to hang out with Pirate when I was working. We’d even taken the dogs out for a walk around the neighborhood a couple of times, shooting the shit as we went.

But when she’d asked me to join her, Mateo and some of the café kids for pizza last Monday night, I’d replied thanks but declined, saying I had something to do with Pete. No use getting (too) attached.

Now it was a Wednesday morning here at the café—super early since I wanted to get a head start on a jam-packed roasting day.

Flashing lights in the dark. An ambulance with its rear doors thrown open. Two police cruisers angled into spaces in the front of the Chocolate Lab, blocking part of the main drag.

What the fuck was going on? And where the fuck was Rose?

I pulled into the side street, parked opposite the café’s deck and launched myself out of the pickup. Pirate was howling in Rose’s house across the street, throwing his big self against the front door. Princess started barking too, but I ignored her and ran across to the front sidewalk.

And immediately stopped. Broken glass had shatteredeverywherealong the front of the café. Some fuckers had smashed the hell out of the two plate glass windows on either side of the entry. Jagged shards jutted from the bottom sills. More glass fragments covered the floor beyond the windows.

Inside, Rose huddled in one of the chairs, wearing a T-shirt, shorts and what looked like bedroom slippers.Goddamned slippers.A medic knelt in front of her, his jump bag beside him on the floor. She twisted her head down, watching him clean and bandage the bloody cuts on both her knees. Thick white dressings already wrapped her hands.

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