Page 17 of Red Hot Roaster

Even though we’d put them on hold for this evening, my deepest and darkest emotions had overshadowed my week.

Grief had hit me anew after clearing out the apartment where Mom and I had spent so many weeks toward the end. Melancholy had struck next after sorting through memories from Mom and Dad’s lives while moving into the main bedroom. Even loneliness replaced the joy of welcoming Finn home when I’d had to literally push him out the door to catch his ride back to college.

Being long sensitive to what made me tick and with thebestieof intentions, Lauren launched her diversionary tactics. “So when did you start to notice all thefinethat is red hot roaster Rafe? Was it when he flexed his muscly kindness to pull the soccer supply cart all those blocks to the park?”

Rather than trying to jam everything into my car, we’d loaded my garden cart—aka soccer supply cart. Its rollability had been tested with an ice chest crammed full of waters and juice, bags of oranges, a first aid kit, orange cones, towels and extra T-shirts. Rafe had won the right to haul the cart while Finn had wrangled the excited dogs. We girls had been left to carry nothing heavier than our phones.

So I smirked at Lauren and said, “Check.”

“Or was it when he tugged his T-shirt over his head and revealed all those muscles upon muscles?”

See, Rafe was real-life—not some guy in a book or a movie I used to get off with Mister Vibrato. I was sure my jaw had dropped a mile with the big reveal. Well, the encore reveal, because Ihadcaught a peek before.

Still, I had to stop myself from drooling over his broad chest narrowing to his compact six-pack, his bulging biceps leading to his corded forearms, his ridged muscles at the dip of his spine crowning his tight rear and muscular thighs.

So, yeah, Lauren had caught me looking. I again said, “Check.”

“Or, finally, was it when he ran the ball all the way down the field—and passed it to Finn to make the winning goal, rather than shooting it himself?”

Hotness was not just the physical goods, and my girl got that too.

So, “Yes, Lauren. Yes! Check, check and double check!” I all but shouted. “Rafe isFINEin some and several ways.”

Doggone it. Now I was speaking, not just texting, in shouty caps.

At that, we broke into giggle-snorts, hanging on to the bar so we wouldn’t pitch off our stools. Obviously, our drinks—and our girls’ day-slash-night out—had done the distraction-from-our-lives job well. So well that I knew I couldn’t drive us home safely.

I shared this fact with Lauren, who nodded, and continued to nod and nod and nod.

Case closed.

“Here,” I said, digging around in my purse for my phone. “Nature—or rather, our liquid dinner—is calling. Why don’t you use my app to call for a ride while I hit the ladies’?”

She took my phone and nodded again—it was getting to be a thing. I hoped she’d still be upright when I got back.

Thankfully, when I returned a few minutes later, Lauren was sitting where I’d left her. And she had a big Cheshire cat grin on her face.

“Okay, what’s going on?” I squinted my eyes at her. “What have you been up to?”

She wiggled off her stool while her grin got even bigger, if that were possible.

“I called Rafe to give us a ride home. He—and Princess, I guess—are gonna be here in a couple of minutes. Oh, and I changed his name to ‘Red Hot Roaster’ in your contact list.”

Oh, no, no, no. I grabbed my phone from the bar and checked my “recent calls.” Yep, there was a call to Rafe. I hit the phone icon, but the call went to voicemail. Guess he was already on his way here.

I was going to kill Lauren.

We hurried out of the restaurant just as Rafe’s pickup pulled up to the curb. Rafe jumped out while Princess was pacing around in the back of the cab, ready to help.

I immediately babbled, “I’m so, so sorry. Lauren overstepped.” Yeah, throwing my girl right under the bus. “We could’ve called a taxi or ride service.”

He held up his hand in a stop-it-now motion and nailed me with those dark-fringed cobalt eyes. “Not a problem. Appreciate you not driving when you’ve been drinking. Rather drive you home than have you ride with a stranger.”

What could I say to that? Nothing, except “thank you, Rafe.”

“Did you leave anything in your car that we need to retrieve? I’m assuming the car’s locked up and parked in a safe place?”

Lauren and I looked at each other and grinned for two reasons. First, we were wearing all our new gear, with the old stuff stashed in the trunk. Second, on a scale of zero to ten, it was minus ten that anyone would want to steal my old clunker.

---