Page 53 of Red Hot Roaster

Involving my last stop at Chocolat Je t’aime.

Chapter 28

Rose

Ialmost changed my mind about punishing Rafe with a chocolate-truffle-tasting challenge after all his help at the house.

Almost.

This year, we were introducing the Chocolate Lab gift tins and trying a new cross-marketing scheme—offering chocolate truffles from Kenzo’s new shop along with other gear, coffee and goodies from the café.

Sure, I could’ve asked Jen or Mica or Liliana or Katt or even Mateo to taste-test the samples. But what was the fun in that?

Instead, I’d devised ablindchocolate-truffle-tasting challenge for Rafe, based on the blind wine-tasting events Jean-Luc held every once in a while at his shop.

One time, my girls and I had gotten oh-so-toasted when we’d demanded multiple “tastes” of each wine—disguised in brown paper bags—so we could figure out which wine matched which description on the scorecard.Was that the first time that Lauren met Jean-Luc? Have to ask her when she gets here for Thanksgiving…

Anyway. Was I hoping to get Rafe drunk on chocolate? Shake him out of his seriousness? Get him to reveal his secrets under the influence? Maybe. Sometimes he seemed too guarded for his own good, even with me.

Or maybe I wanted to live out some more fantasies before he left next month. Guys could have fantasies too, right?

Now I stood in the middle of the roastery floor, hands on hips, surveying my handiwork. I’d chased all the kids out after closing so I could clean up—and set up—on my own.

Nine chocolate truffles paraded around the revolving oak cupping table, each covered by an anonymous white box with a number on the top and a label hidden on the bottom.

A blindfold—aka Chocolate Lab dog scarf—sat rolled up on the table, since I couldn’t rely on Rafe to keep his eyes shut. A raspberry filling here, slivers of candied ginger there, a coconut coating everywhere would be dead giveaways.

A score card listing each chocolate truffle by its fancy name and description rested on my stool. Once Rafe used his magic tasting skills to tease out the ingredients (because roasters cupped—that is, taste-tested—new coffees all the time), I’d write its number next to the closest matching description.

Shot glasses of water and espresso ambled through the middle of the round table, ready to serve as palate-cleansers between truffle bites. Yes, I did consider the cumulative effects of sugar and caffeine, but the whole…experience was going to be a guaranteed rush anyway.

Last but not least, two lamps from home shed a soft glow, balanced by shadows in the corners of the windowless room. Off with the glaring overhead lights, on with the intimate vibe. Well, as much as I could get in this space with the ginormous roaster looming and burlappy bean bags huddling on nearby pallets.

Once Rafe arrived, I’d lock and set the alarms for the three outside doors. I’d also lock the roastery door to the hall—and check it twice. I was taking no chances with intruders of any sort this time around.

“What’s all this?”

I jumped a mile.Stealthy, thy name is Rafe.

Whipping around, I found him leaning against the hallway doorframe. He raised one eyebrow and moved into the room, looking around. I was speechless for once, and Rafe took advantage by walking right into my personal space.

He buried one hand in my hair and grasped my shoulder with the other, pulling me to him for a kiss. And not just a haven’t-seen-you-since-I-fed-and-walked-the-dogs peck on the lips. No, this was an in-your-mouth-and-planning-to-stay-a-while kiss, complete with tongue lashings.

Needless to say, I remained speechless…and a little breathless.

Rafe finally leaned back. I followed his lips before I knew what I was doing and gradually opened my eyes.

He smiled down at me, and I allowed myself a moment to feast on all that was Rafe. His short hair sparkling from the rain, his thick brows slanting over those intense cobalt eyes, his dark end-of-day stubble covering his strong jaw, just a hint of that rough scar showing through.

My face, my shoulders, my entire body relaxed under his warm gaze.

We stood there for I didn’t know how long. Coming out of my haze, I shook myself. I grabbed his hand and led him over to the cupping table.

“This, Rafe, is your official blind chocolate-truffle-tasting challenge.”

I rotated the tabletop so that the chocolate truffle in the box labeled “#1” faced him.

“Sit. Stay. And no peeking. I’ll be right back after I lock and alarm the outer doors.”

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