Page 49 of Red Hot Roaster

After giving him a peck on the lips, I started, “I know you generally don’t eat pastries or cakes or candy or pie or sweets of any kind.” The man either didn’t like the sugary side of life or had freakishly strong willpower.

“Therefore,” I paused to swipe the tip of my tongue across his lips, “your punishment for grand theft bat will be…”

I went in for a full-contact, tongue-twisting kiss before continuing. Or trying to continue, because Rafe was getting the idea and starting to “help.” When I wrenched myself away, we were both a little breathless.

“…will be to undergo a chocolate-truffle-tasting challenge, all in service of our holiday gift tins.”

Rafe angled back down and grumbled against my lips, “Where and when do I need to report for this so-called punishment?”

I was able to gasp out, “Next Tuesday, right here in the roastery, after we close and lock ourselves in,” before he invaded my mouth.

I happily stopped talking and settled in to enjoy our non-verbal communication.

Chapter 26

Rafe

Fuck. I was a paranoid fucker. If I kept reacting the way I did, I was going to screw up this time with Rose. I was already lying to her by not sharing my entire story.

Omitting certain facts is a lie by any other name—right?

It was late Sunday morning, and I was over at Pete’s, replacing the shocks on his old beater. For a guy who’d always prided himself on owning the most up-to-date roasting equipment, he sure had a thing for junk cars.

The problem was he was getting too old and too arthritic to get down on the creeper and slide under the chassis. Of course, Pete would never admit to that, and I’d never say it to his face. However, he knew I knew cars and liked to keep my hand in, so to speak. When he had something tricky to fix (read: hard to get to), he’d call me. I’d come with my tools and stay afterward for a beer and a talk.

And did I ever need to talk this shit out.

Pete was the only one in Portland—well, anywhere—who knew everything about me. The good. The bad. And the criminally ugly. Although even I wasn’t dumb enough to think I’d be held liable twenty-five years later for boosting cars as a juvie. That statute of limitations had long run out.

I needed to get Pete’s advice on whether to tell Rose everything. Everyfuckingthing, including the real reason I started the enlistment process the week after I turned eighteen.

Rose was trusting me—me—with her beautiful body, her feelings, her hopes, her secrets, herself. And I didn’t deserve her trust. I wasn’tworthyof her trust.

I needed Pete to give it to me straight, to confirm what I already felt in my gut. He’d known Rose since she was young, knew everything she’d gone through. He’d do the right thing and tell me to be on my way before I broke her heart. And mine.

Job done, I rolled out from under the car in time to see Pete walk down the driveway, Princess trotting alongside. He lifted one hand to show two long-necked beer bottles dangling between his knuckles and motioned to his front porch. I stood, wiped my hands on a rag, snagged one of the bottles and followed them to settle with a groan on the padded porch swing. Another reason I didn’t flick Pete any shit about getting older—I had my share of aches and pains from the life I’d led.

Princess stretched out in front of me and heaved a sigh. I started to take a strong pull from the icy bottle when Pete said, “Okay, son. What’s got your boxers in a bunch?”

I choked and reared back from my bottle.

Fuck, was it that obvious I had something on my mind? Probably. Usually, I had no trouble talking with Pete about anything—I guessed my grunts and one-word answers and tight expression had given me away. I wouldn’t want him to think I was mad at him for the world. And Iwashere to get his thoughts about what, if anything, to tell Rose.

I didn’t know where to begin.

Pete solved that problem for me in short order. “Is this about Rose? You and Rose?”

I eyed him for a moment while I finally took a swallow of my beer. “How did you know that?”

“I hear things,” he shared. “I see things. And I know you.”

I raised my eyebrows.Ahhh…right, Liliana.

“So tell me,” he continued, “when are you coming back from Boise?”

Pete was always one for cutting to the chase.

“Nah…I wasn’t planning on it. Just got a call from that guy in northern California for a gig after Boise. Maybe you’ll have a line on some other jobs coming up.”

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