Page 10 of Red Hot Roaster

Yep, I was clearly outmatched. When both PrincessandRose ganged up against me, they were impossible to resist.

Rose pulled me to the fence gate and puckered her lips to make a kissing sound. Directed at me or Pirate—I wasn’t sure.

“Hey, Pi-Pi, meet Rafe.” The behemoth looked up at me and snorted, not impressed. I’d have to earn his trust.

I picked up Princess and motioned with my head to open the gate. Rose caught the cue and unlatched the gate to slowly push in first, backing Pirate up as she went. She got him to sit down—a treat bribe may have been involved—and I followed with my girl in my arms. The minute we were all in, Rose shut the gate behind us.

I sat Princess on her feet and stepped back. Rose said, “Okay, Pirate,” and he scrambled to his feet. The two circled each other and then took turns sniffing each other’s butts. I slid a glance toward Rose but she didn’t seem put off by typical dog shit.

And just like that, they were off.

Pirate burst out running across the yard with Princess on his heels. They reversed direction at the back, and Pirate chased Princess around the perimeter. After a few minutes of this, they collapsed back at our feet. Panting, puffing, grinning. Yes, grinning at each other.

Rose turned to me, andshegrinned. “If you’re okay with it, let’s leave them here together for an hour or so while we get started at the café. The yard’s fully fenced, and I just filled Pi’s water dish.”

I hesitated for a second, and she picked up on it.

“Oh, right, you might be smack-dab in the middle of a roast. If you trust me, I could come back and check on them?”

I jerked my chin up in ayes.

We left Princess and Pirate stretched out on the grass, tongues lolling from their mouths. We were, clearly, surplus to requirements.

Don’t let the gate hit your asses on the way out.

Chapter 7

Rose

When we got to the Chocolate Lab—only ten minutes later than normal, even after all the dog drama—I let us in the side door to the roastery and hustled to turn off the alarm while Rafe moved purposefully around the space. He flipped on the lights, pulled out the coffee blend binder and switched on the roaster.

He was getting right down to it—not needing my help or time, thankfully.

Still, I had to double-check. “You okay with starting on your own?”

He looked at me and rumbled one word. “Rose.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you need anything,” I said, thumbing over my right shoulder toward the front of the café—like he couldn’t find his way. Rafe gave me a chin lift, and I got out of there before I embarrassed myself further.No hovering needed.

I headed down the hall, switching on lights in the bathrooms and the meeting room as I went. Mateo had done his usual sterling job, with the help of the kids on the evening crew, of “closing” the café last night. Tables and chairs, wiped down and straightened—check. Coffee carafes washed and draining on the back counter—check, check. And finally, the espresso machine, cleaned and ready for action—check, check and triple check.

The first shift, three kids on a busy Friday morning, was due to arrive soon. We unlocked the doors promptly at seven, and usually folks were there waiting to get their morning beverage of choice and bakery treat. I snagged my Chocolate Lab apron from its hook in the kitchen and got the day started.

I quietly closed my backyard gate, still smiling. As promised, I’d gone down to check on Pirate and Princess after the morning rush. I’d found them sleeping on their sides, facing each other, close as close could be, totally drenched.

Evidently, the kiddie pool had been a hit. It was a warm late summer day, and they’d dry soon enough. I’d refilled the water dish and scooped a poop or two. Now I was walking back to the Chocolate Lab to make my report on the doggy duo.

Trust me, Rafe. You didn’t need to worry about my pirate carrying off your princess.

When I stepped through the side door, the smells, sounds…and sights of roasting coffee ambushed me. With the machine going at full speed—probably on the fourth or fifth roast by now—the space had heated up. The roasting beans were releasing hot steam, fragrant with a sweet, nutty aroma. Sharp pops, like popping corn, also filled the roastery.

Rafe stood in the midst of it all, tatted skin glistening from the humidity and damp T-shirt sticking tight to his chest and biceps. Even his close-cut hair was slick.

He was listening to the “crack”—that popping sound that signaled the stage of the roast.

I gave myself a moment to steep in all that was this man. I wasn’t going to go there, since acting on this insta-pull was wrong on so many levels, yet Icouldsoak up the moment.

After a few minutes, as the sounds changed, I edged around the room so I’d be in Rafe’s sight line. He didn’t startle when I gave my little wave, so he’d probably already sensed I was there. He nodded and started to wind the roasting process down.

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