Page 1 of Red Hot Roaster

Chapter 1

Rose

Goldie took off down the middle of our neighborhood’s busiest street, dragging my new chocolate Lab behind her and yelping frantically.

The dog statue was breaking into chunks as the scared old girl ran along, yet she refused to slow down. I needed to reach her—and pronto.

I raced down the street, calling to Goldie and waving at cars to stop. Someone pounded past me, nearly knocking me over. I stumbled, righted myself and kept on going. Then, the sound I dreaded to hear…a drawn-outscreeeeech.

Oh, no. Oh, Goldie.

Noah ran up and grabbed me around the waist, panting and crying and clinging. I hugged my little neighbor tight and pulled us toward the accident.

A stranger was kneeling in front of the stopped car, his broad back toward us. My breath caught when, in one motion, he unfolded and turned, cradling Goldie in his arms. Blood covered his flannel shirt, and a fragment of the leash dangled from her collar.

Why is he moving her? Did he pick her up without checking for broken bones? Doesn’t he realize she’s bleeding?

What the fido?

By the time we got closer, the guy was rumbling, his face tilted down, “That’s my baby girl. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” And again, “I’ve got you.”

Huh. It seemed Goldie was over her trauma of being tied to the dog statue. Instead, the flirt was gazing at her rescuer with those liquid amber eyes, fluttering her impossibly long to-die-for lashes.

I had to know. “Did you even check for injuries before you lifted her? Was she actually hit? Why is she bleeding all over the place?”

That’s when Goldie’s rescuer raised his head and sent me a cutting glare from cobalt-blue eyes framed byhisimpossibly long thick dark lashes. I may have melted a bit, but his next words left me cold.

“Is this your dog?” he growled. “What were you thinking, tying her to that thing? She could’ve been run over!”

Before I could get a word in, the jerk went on, “And, yeah. I know what I’m doing. Nothing’s broken. The blood’s from her paws being scraped raw.”

Noah cried even harder. I frowned and slid my eyes down to the boy. The guy finally got a clue and clamped his lips together in a hard line.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, hugging him closer. “There’s no way you could’ve known the dog statue was so lightweight. Thanks to this, er, this nice man, Goldie is safe and just a little worse for wear.”

I turned to theniceman and said, “The café isn’t set up for doggy first aid. I’d like the vet to clean her paws and check them for gravel or glass. Could you please carry Goldie a few blocks to the clinic.”

It came off like an order rather than a request, so I wasn’t surprised when he quirked an eyebrow.

“Or is she getting too heavy?” I asked, half-serious, half-not-so-much.

He narrowed those eyes and shook his head. “Nope, she’s fine.” And then, “Oh, shit, I should let her know I’m running late. I need to call, or maybe we can stick our heads in the café as we go by?”

I stopped abruptly. “Are you Rafe Amato?”

His face blanked. “Are you Rose Connolly?”

I hope you’re more observant when you’re roasting my coffee beans, sweetheart.

I pulled off my food prep hairnet so my overdue-for-a-cut hair tumbled out and made a sweeping gesture down my front.

My long apron displayed our logo of a Labrador retriever drinking a steaming cup of coffee over fancy script readingThe Chocolate Lab Café—Where Everybody Knows Your (Dog’s) Name.

“I figured you were into pretty weird rain hats. I also figured you didn’t want me staring below your neck.” Rafe was quick on his feet—I had to give him that.

Okay, I appreciated theeyes up hereawareness. I’d gotten enough attention for my curvy figure in the past. Plus, he was going to be working for me. Better to set the tone right from the start.

We’d arrived in front of the café by this time. The old girl was still nestled in Rafe’s arms like a seventy-pound baby, and Noah was wiping his tears with his arms. All our customers, dogs and humans, crowded out front to see the action. Noah’s big sister, Emma, was there too, wringing a dishtowel between her hands.

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