Page 38 of Red Hot Roaster

Suddenly, the double dark chocolate truffle was snatched from my right hand and replaced with…a variety pack of colored Post-it Notes? WTF (read: What the Fido)!

I looked up just as Rafe tossed me a penandstuffed the stolen truffle through his lips. Evidently, the soccer match was over, and I hadn’t heard him come back because I was too wrapped up in worrying.

Rafe closed his eyes, appearing in bliss for a moment as he chewed and swallowed the chocolate. I got distracted watching his mouth—hmm…maybe we could do a truffle-tasting together—and missed his first couple of words.

“Rose. You’re gonna make yourself sick.” Did he mean sucking up the chocolates or stewing over the coffee pilot…or both?

Rafe gently tapped my forehead and said, “Instead, why don’t you transfer all those steps for the coffee deal from that busy brain of yours onto your Post-it Notes while I start closing the café? That way, we can get outta here early and go take the dogs for their walk.”

I started to protest, and he interrupted me. “We’ve got a big day at the beach tomorrow—a well-deserved break for you—and I want all four of us to be fresh with a good night’s sleep.”

I raised my eyebrows, and he added, with a narrowed gaze, “In our own beds. This will all be here when we return on Thursday, and you can talk the next steps through with Mike, Pete, Mateo, Finn, your girls, me—whoever can help. You are not alone in this.”

If only planning my personal life was so simple—one action step jotted on each Post-it Note, color-coded to show…what? Dreams, hopes, desires?

Nope. Not putting any of those in writing for anybody to read. Especially Rafe.

I barely understood them myself.

Chapter 20

Rafe

We’d be shaking the grit out of our clothes and shoes till kingdom come—and I didn’t give one fuck.

The dogs’ tennis balls and Frisbees, already caked with sand, were stuffed in one of my jacket pockets. The other one was reserved for the beach “finds” Rose kept handing to me—fragile seashells in iridescent colors, driftwood sticks worn smooth, and shiny, odd-shaped rocks. After I dusted each one off the best I could, I’d slipped it into the designated pocket.

“You’ve got a mission here, Rafe,” she claimed, walking backward and pointing both index fingers at my chest.

“Should I choose to accept it,” I stated.

“It’s not possible to turn it down,” she countered.

“Let me hear it before I decide,” I warned.

“Your mission,” she paused, “ifyou choose to accept it, is to keep each of my treasures safe and uncrushed until we get home.”

Now, in all fairness, her pockets were smaller and crammed too, with her phone—she was snapping a ton of pics—a water bottle, leftover scones and loose dog biscuits. In those circumstances, the only thing a man could do wasaccept the mission.

I gave her a brisk nod. She grinned and flipped forward to continue her amble down the beach, dogs running circles around her. Me following.

Not long after that, Rose tugged off her sneakers and socks to dig her toes into the hard-packed sand at the shoreline. Dangling the sock-stuffed shoes from her fingertips, she waded into the shallow edge.

“Rafe, come on—you know you want to get your feet wet,” she called. “Think of the little fishies tickling your toes!”

I was not a barefoot kind of guy—at least not outside.

“Aren’t your feet freezing?” I called to her.They must be turning blue by this time.

“Sure, but it’s worth every moment.” She flung her arms wide and started jogging toward Haystack Rock, the piercing squawks of the seagulls filling the air as they scattered around her.

Princess and Pirate, fur ruffled up from rolling on their backs, raced after her like a pair of loons—the rarely seen beach loons. I followed.

So, yeah, gritty, cold sand was everywhere—and I didn’t fucking care, since I got playful Rose, laughing Rose, carefree Rose.

I got Rose all to myself for a day.

Sure, the grocery store project would be waiting when we got back. Sure, the clock was ticking on our time together. Sure, we had things…personal things…we wanted to talk about.

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