Page 43 of Red Hot Roaster

“Why don’t you catch a shower and get dressed while I take care of the dogs? You’ll have time for a little breakfast that way. Do you want coffee now or later at the café?”

I was finally catching up—and I had questions. What was Rafe doing in my bedroom, let alone in my bed? Why was he still here? Why hadn’t he vanished in the night after what I’d shared—and overshared—yesterday?

I crossed to the door and grabbed the front of his T-shirt to tug his head down to my level.

“Now,” I whispered, pressing a hard kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

And…what would he do if he found out the rest of my story?Yes, I had questions. But they’d have to wait for tonight.

After my short shower with a dollop of personal grooming, coffee—fake sweetener but real whip…I know, I know—and Rafe-scrambled eggs, quick but hot and protein-rich, I grabbed my laptop and walked down to open the Chocolate Lab.

Rafe had said he had some errands and would be there later to do roasts.

I was happy for the break from our close to twenty-four hours of togetherness. Even though I planned to use the time and space to think about those said twenty-four. Analyze each word, dissect each look, relive each touch.

Thankfully, multitasking was my superpower. I could think—and overthink—about my day with Rafe at the same time I refocused on the realities of keeping the Chocolate Lab alive. Not that I didn’t trust Mateo to run the café’s day-to-day operations—I did, with all my businesslike little heart.

No, it was the realities of keeping the café side of the Chocolate Lab in the black while speeding up the growth of the wholesale coffee bean side. If I didn’t kick off the grocery store pilot, and soon, I’d be looking at closing the café next spring.

Maybe that was why a fling with Rafe would be so appealing—and so dangerous.

So dangerous because getting busy could distract me from the true business at hand. Yet so appealing because it would speak to my sensual nature—which seldom got the chance to play off-leash. But so dangerous because it would offer me a taste of true intimacy, a flavor of a true relationship—complete with a guaranteed date of departure.

Could I do this without getting hurt?

Even more, should I feel guilty about not telling Rafeallmy history with men? Sure, he’d heard about my bad judgment in trusting Finn’s father, and he’d still been there this morning…in my bed.

It was different with Brent. I’d been older and should’ve been wiser. I’d let the smooth talker into our lives with his promises of love, a home of our own, security for the future.

Only, the dog butt had deserted me at the last moment. Literally, the last moment, at the church. No wonder his family hadn’t flown out from New York.

The subtext in his text—yes, text—had shouted loud and clear.Rose, I can’t do this.I made a decision without talking it through with you.We’re not right for each other.It’s you, not me.We don’t want the same things.I don’t want to be a stepdad to your son, or be a dad, ever.Sorry. Send me all the bills.As if it was the money that mattered.

I stilled in the back of the bakery case, clutching a scone a smidge too tightly. How would Rafe react if I told him about how I’d misjudged a guyagain? Would he think I was looking for more sympathy points? Or worse, would he fear I was expectingmorefrom him?

So many questions, so little time. That was where multitasking came in handy—doing my thinking aboutpersonalbusiness while taking care ofbusinessbusiness.

I sighed and finished stocking the rest of the bakery goods. At any moment, the kids on the morning shift would start swinging through the door. I faced a packed day and a bazillion-and-one Post-its, ranging from getting ready for the Dogwood Treat-n-Treat Saturday to calling Kenzo for more chocolate truffles from his new shop to posting pics from our Howl-o-ween Pumpkin Carving Contest.

Oh, fido, that’s right! I need to dump my Post-its on the grocery pilot into the project management software on my laptop.

I reached back in and grabbed a chocolate-chip scone to stuff in my face.Who says stress-eating doesn’t relieve stress?

Later that night, at least two of my questions had been answered. To be fair, I had already known the answer to one of them.

I was jammed close to Rafe at the Hair of the Dog, helping the Dogwood soccer team celebrate winning its last outdoor match of the season. WAGs and friends—I was firmly in the “friend” category—had been texted to join the guys for beer and pizza after they’d changed out of their soccer gear. I’d had plenty of time to close up the Chocolate Lab, check the dogs at home and walk over. Jen and Katt were there, along with Jean-Luc, Liam, Mateo, Mike and the rest of the crowd.

So, when Liam asked Rafe if he was signing up for the Dogwood team’s indoor session scheduled to start in mid-November, I wasn’t caught off guard. Although I felt a little awkward for some reason, what with Rafe side-eyeing me and Jen throwing me a pitying look across the table.

“Sorry,” Rafe said gruffly and stopped to clear his throat. “Sorry. I don’t think it’d be fair to start the season when I couldn’t finish it. I’ve got to leave for my new job in Boise by mid-December.”

The entire table quieted down, much to my delight. Not.

Liam, of course, had to ask the question I could already answer on my own. “Oh. You’re not staying on at the Chocolate Lab after Mike gets back?” He shot a glance at me before saying, “I thought you were expanding the coffee operations?”

It was a small neighborhood—word got around.

Luckily, Mateo dove in before it could get anymoreawkward and answered for me, “Yeah, things are in the works for growth. However, Rafe has a commitment he made to another coffee company even before he got here. Right, man?”

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