Page 6 of Red Hot Roaster

When I started my deep dive into details, Rafe waved me off. “Got this, Rose—no worries.”

Pretty soon, we’d cleared a smidgen of space on the left side of the mirror.

“Hey, you may have to duck,” I declared, “but now you have room enough to see when you comb your hair.”

He lifted his arm, biceps flexing under the T-shirt sleeve, and rubbed his hand over his tight cut, bending over to peer in the mirror. “Works for me,” he said and shot me a small smirk.

If I’d had a tail, it would have gonethump, thump, thump.Down, girl.

Instead, I said, “That about does it for today. Any more questions for now?”

Rafe shook his head.

“Let’s meet here tomorrow morning at six so I can let you in and you can get started. Oh, fido, I need to get you a set of keys.” I grabbed the pad of green Post-its, wroteRetrieve keys for Ron the top one, peeled it off, and stuck it on the mirror under “Temp Roaster.”

“Did you call me ‘Fido’?” Rafe sounded…horrified? Puzzled? Entertained?

Argh. Got to remember I hadnew guyhere, not someone familiar with my…quirks.

“Yes, yes, I came up with all sorts of creative swear words when my son was young,” I shared. “Kept using them with so many little ones in and out of the Chocolate Lab. They just stuck, I guess.”

With that, I turned out the roastery lights, made sure I had my phone still tucked in my back jeans pocket, and snared the sack of Rafe’s clothes. Since Mateo was closing this week, I didn’t need to worry about locking up and setting the alarm.

We went through the outside door to the sidewalk, where a few people sitting on our covered deck glanced up curiously. There was a wave here and there, and even a hopeful bark from Tessa, a poodle always on the lookout for a treat.

We said our goodbyes and headed in opposite directions—me toward my house and Rafe, I assume, toward his pickup.

At the last moment, I remembered and turned around to shout, “Looking forward to meeting Princess tomorrow morning!”

I got no words, just my very own chin lift in response.

Chapter 5

Rose

Islowed as I got closer to my front porch.

In the past, I’d been thankful our house was just a few steps down the side street and right behind the Chocolate Lab. After a day at the café, I’d rush home to share every newsy bit and dog tale with my family. I’d find Mom cooking up a storm, Dad grappling with the books, and Finn frowning over his math homework.

Now I was in no hurry to get home.

At age thirty-seven, I’d never lived anywhere else, aside from one cut-short year at college. I’d always lived with my family, other than a roommate that one semester. I’d never lived alone…until now.

That was unless you counted the latest in our line of Labs—any color you chose as long as it was chocolate. And most days, I did count Pirate. Most days.

Other days, I was starving for human, not canine, companionship. I craved a loving and loyal relationship—one where you could count on the guy to never leave you in the lurch.

Where you could ask the guy to sit…and stay.

And the only person who knew about my dream of love—and my doubts and fears—was gone. Even Finn and my besties would never suspect I had dreams that didn’t revolve around the futures of my son and the Chocolate Lab.

Mom, sick as she was, had prodded and pushed me until the end.

Sweetie, you cannot give up on your dream. Yes, you’ve had two bad breaks on the love front. But you have to keep hoping for love, fighting for love.

You have to promise me.

I did, of course, but I wasn’t sure I could keep that promise. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to go there again—even if six feet of temporary temptation had walked in my café door. I shook off my depression—physically, from head to tail, much like a dog shakes off rain. It was good none of my neighbors were outside to see me.

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