Page 37 of Red Hot Roaster

“Well, I had no choice. I had to laugh too.” I hadn’t let go like that in a long time, and I suspected Rafe hadn’t either.

“Good for you, Rose,” she declared. “And even better, he didn’t behave like your jerk of an ex.”

Mica never minced words.

Yeah. My jerk of an ex-fiancéwho was always embarrassed by any PDA—even, and maybe especially, my tendency to hand out hugs like chocolates.

So I shared the rest of the story with my girl. How we’d finally stopped laughing, and Rafe had turned me around to pull me close. How we’d kissed and nibbled each other’s lips, yet only for a minute before heading back into the café to finish the cleaning job.

Later, after we’d crashed on that velvety-cushiony couch with pizza in hand and after we’d walked the dogs one last late-night time, we’d returned to our respective beds to crash again.

Hot play on delay, to be resumed at a later date.

“How are you doing?” Rafe asked.

Of course, it wasn’t a loaded question. The thing was…I’d reignited my shyness after confessing to Mica earlier, so I blurted, “Do you mean have I recovered from last night? Or do you mean how are things going with planning for the meeting? Or do you mean are you hungry since cold pizza didn’t make much of a breakfast this morning?”

There was silence on the other end, and I told myself tostoptalking.

Rafe said, “Yes,” and rumbled that deep masculine chuckle.

He’d let loose more in the past day than in all the days and weeks combined.

Before I could find my voice, Rafe took over and told me he was bringing lunch from the café. His treat, he insisted, even though I owned the café.

“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Rose.”

We could eat, talk grocery store strategy and walk the dogs before needing to be back at the Chocolate Lab for the meeting. He reminded me that we had all day tomorrow during our beach trip to talk aboutother things—my emphasis, not his.

So this time, I was the one who uttered one word, “Yes.”

“Dalmatian,Dalmatian, Dalmatian!” I muttered, each time getting a little louder. I was standing behind the service counter, staring into space and shoving truffle after chocolate truffle into my face.

I was supposed to be taste-testing the custom truffles to choose some for our holiday gift boxes. Instead, I was stress-consuming, my mind so not on the task at hand.

Rafe and Mateo were off to the next-to-last outdoor soccer match of the season, along with Mike to cheer them on. I was managing the café until we closed at eight and cleaned up by nine. I’d fed and watered the pups, and they were content to hang in my backyard until our last cruise around the neighborhood later tonight.

It was a slow Tuesday evening at the café, so I had a lot of time on my hands. To think and to worry—and to do what I do best when I was stressed. Eat sweet treats. No wonder my figure was getting a little curvier as of late.

I wasnotworrying about how the meeting had gone with Julie from PDX FOODS that afternoon. Turned out that the grocery group had been looking for a local resource to pilot self-service coffee bean displays in its Portland area stores.

Now it seemed the Chocolate Lab was getting what I’d wished for…and my stomach was churning at the thought. The truffles could’ve been contributing, but I suspected it was due to the shih tzu-load of work ahead.

We’d had to postpone the meeting for a few weeks, and Julie had been super understanding about the delay. Still, the first thing she’d said when we’d all sat down at the tasting table in the roastery?

“Let’s get this dog show on the road!”

The “buy-local” grocery group loved everything about our Chocolate Lab Coffee brand. We were right in their dog, er, wheelhouse with our locally roasted coffee in coffee-mad Portland, dog-themed gear in dog-mad Portland, and custom chocolate rewards in chocolate-mad, well, anywhere.

They’d applauded our savvy proposal to provide the coffee bean bins and grinders, clean and restock the displays, and offer special promotions and sales. Yep, we’d do it all—all in exchange for exclusivity—meaning Chocolate Lab Coffee would be the “one and only” whole coffee bean display in each PDX FOODS store. We’d start out with a couple of pilots and expand to all their stores in the greater Portland area.

So why was I slugging down the chocolate truffles like they were shots of Irish whiskey?

I needed to pull this off to save the café—and I was on my own. Nobody knew how much I was counting on new roastery business. The café barely broke even in the best of months. It wasn’t sustainable on its own.

I’d hidden this crisis from Mom in her last months, and I was sure as shih tzunotgoing to spill the beans now. I didn’t want to chance anybody changing their plans on my account. Finn heading back to school, Pete truly retiring, Mike returning part-time only….and Rafe leaving for his next gig. All going, going,gone.

No wonder my stomach—and now my head—were aching.

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