Page 78 of Red Hot Roaster

The fierceness of her nails as she clawed my shoulders and hung on. The clench of her knees on my hips when I lowered her to the bed. My gritted out “Wait, not yet” as I pushed up on my elbows to prolong the moment.

Our eyes locking again, as I pulled out, plunged in, at a furious pace. Her shuddering as her sweet-scented juices coated me again.

My answering last plunge, staying deep, my soul shooting into her. Her core fisting me to the very end, taking everything from me.

I veered back into my lane, heart beating double time like the wipers on high. Still standing behind me, Princess slammed into my seat. Her pile of blankets muffled her yelp and—hopefully—softened her fall.

Fuck. Talk about distractions.

“Sorry, Princess, sorry—you okay?” The cold nose on the back of my neck signaled proof of life, although I expected a full-on sulk at our upcoming stop.

We dipped south at Boardman, going away from the Gorge toward Pendleton. Just off I-84, I stopped at the travel plaza to fill up the tank and grab a hot meal. Baby girl got part of my sandwich as an apology. Then we chained up in the parking area—better chance of snow passing through the Wallowas.

Back in the pickup, I checked for any texts or voicemails. Nothing. No surprise—it was barely five-thirty. And who was going to contact me anyway?

Princess resettled on her blankets with a sigh—it sounded like someone let the air out of a tire. We hit the highway again with three, four hours to Boise—and no distractions from looping back to thoughts of Rose.

Starting with the last time I made love to her. Only last night?

Her startled protest “you’ll hurt yourself” when I banded my arms around her thighs and waist, lifted her and jogged up the stairs. Whimpers from the dogs when I kicked the door shut in their faces. How hard I was—and how soft she was—as she slid down my front to the floor…

Chapter 39

Rose

“Nope, I haven’t heard anything from her yet—or her dad.” I grunted as I hefted the grocery sacks onto the counter. My phone, with Lauren on speaker, sat near Rafe’s Post-its where I’d left them this morning.

Duct-taped to the butcher block and going nowhere.

When she’d called, I’d just walked through the front door. I’d dropped the sacks on the floor to answer—and to fend off Pirate. The alarm system had come in a distant third.

Now the persistent beeping was driving me crazy—and it wasn’t a far trip.

“Hang on, Lauren—I’ve gotta disarm the alarm before they call.”

Luckily, in recognition of the leaping-for-joy-knocking-you-over greeting expected from an excitable Lab, I’d programmed my new system with 250 seconds—the max—to cancel the alarm. Well,reprogrammed, that is, after the default thirty seconds proved a no-go when the monitoring center had called five times in as many days.

“I’m back,” I announced. “Let me start getting things into the fridge and freezer while we talk.”

“All righty,” she agreed and paused as I rummaged around in the sacks. “How are you feeling?”

“About like you’d expect,” I shared. “My head aches, my eyes are gritty, and my throat is still craggy. I couldn’t stomach anything but coffee so far today, but that’s got to change. That’s why I stopped and got some food for the rest of the week.”

“Geez, Rose. You could’ve called on Jen or Mica to help out.”

“I know, I know. They were great last night at keeping me distracted. But I need to let them get back to their families. Hey, at least I managed to hold it together at the café this morning. The kids were pretty gentle with me—you know how they pick up on stuff. Or maybe Mateo said something. Anyway. Only one or two of the regulars asked when Rafe was coming back.”

“Oh, girl. What’d you say?”

“You know me—I had it planned out. Said he was already contracted elsewhere for roasting jobs the next several months. And that we’d all miss him.”

“So you didn’t see him before he left? You guys didn’t talk again?”

Wait. What the fido?Two unopened pints of Tillamook Chocolate Peanut Butter had been stuffed in the door rack of the freezer. I thought Finn had eaten us out of ice cream house and home when he was here.

Now I was trying to find room for my perishables down below—and not seeing a square inch of space.

“Rose? Rose? Are you there?”

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