Chapter 19Rose
Chapter 19
Rose
“M ateo was cool about the entire thing—which is more than I can say for Rafe!”
“Wait—did he get upset? You guys weren’t doing anything wrong,” Mica protested, laughing as she fended off Pirate’s smouches. She knelt next to my big boy on the exam room floor, trying to listen to his heart.
“You were just test-driving the fling-thing in private,” she added, “except for the whole windows-and-doors problem.”
Trust my girl to put a positive spin on our kissing-interruptus adventure after the Howl-o-ween party.
As soon as we’d arrived that morning for Pirate’s allergy shot, I’d jumped right in with my story. I was looking for a little sympathy because…what are girlfriends for?
Instead, I got a lot of laughter and even more encouragement because…what are friends for?
Luckily, we’d had enough warning before Mateo had switched on the brights. We’d slid off the bags and located our tossed T-shirts—plus a spare apron for me.
Still, we’d been caught in the act—what with my hurricane hair and Rafe’s wild eyes. Even more telling, I’d backed into Rafe to block Mateo’s view of certain hard facts and clutched the apron over my pebbly bits like a shy maiden.
Mateo had raised his eyebrows in mock shock. After winking, he’d turned off the lights and shut the door. We’d stood still and quiet—in the total dark—until Ana called that she’d found her backpack behind the counter. They’d left shortly after that.
I’d wanted to crawl under the pallet of coffee bags and never come out again.
“You know what Rafe did? He started to chuckle, not mad at all,” I informed Mica. “He swung me off my feet and roared with laughter. With the way he was carrying on, I was worried the neighborhood dogs would start howling.”
We’d gotten interrupted in the middle of making out like teenagers, and he was losing it.
“Good for him. So what did you do?” Mica asked.
“Well, I had no choice. I had to laugh too.” I hadn’t let go like that in a long time, and I suspected Rafe hadn’t either.
“Good for you, Rose,” she declared. “And even better, he didn’t behave like your jerk of an ex.”
Mica never minced words.
Yeah. My jerk of an ex- fiancé who was always embarrassed by any PDA—even, and maybe especially, my tendency to hand out hugs like chocolates.
So I shared the rest of the story with my girl. How we’d finally stopped laughing, and Rafe had turned me around to pull me close. How we’d kissed and nibbled each other’s lips, yet only for a minute before heading back into the café to finish the cleaning job.
Later, after we’d crashed on that velvety-cushiony couch with pizza in hand and after we’d walked the dogs one last late-night time, we’d returned to our respective beds to crash again.
Hot play on delay, to be resumed at a later date.
“How are you doing?” Rafe asked.
Of course, it wasn’t a loaded question. The thing was…I’d reignited my shyness after confessing to Mica earlier, so I blurted, “Do you mean have I recovered from last night? Or do you mean how are things going with planning for the meeting? Or do you mean are you hungry since cold pizza didn’t make much of a breakfast this morning?”
There was silence on the other end, and I told myself to stop talking.
Rafe said, “Yes,” and rumbled that deep masculine chuckle.
He’d let loose more in the past day than in all the days and weeks combined.
Before I could find my voice, Rafe took over and told me he was bringing lunch from the café. His treat, he insisted, even though I owned the café.
“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Rose.”
We could eat, talk grocery store strategy and walk the dogs before needing to be back at the Chocolate Lab for the meeting. He reminded me that we had all day tomorrow during our beach trip to talk about other things— my emphasis, not his.
So this time, I was the one who uttered one word, “Yes.”
“Dalmatian, Dalmatian, Dalmatian! ” I muttered, each time getting a little louder. I was standing behind the service counter, staring into space and shoving truffle after chocolate truffle into my face.
I was supposed to be taste-testing the custom truffles to choose some for our holiday gift boxes. Instead, I was stress-consuming, my mind so not on the task at hand.
Rafe and Mateo were off to the next-to-last outdoor soccer match of the season, along with Mike to cheer them on. I was managing the café until we closed at eight and cleaned up by nine. I’d fed and watered the pups, and they were content to hang in my backyard until our last cruise around the neighborhood later tonight.
It was a slow Tuesday evening at the café, so I had a lot of time on my hands. To think and to worry—and to do what I do best when I was stressed. Eat sweet treats. No wonder my figure was getting a little curvier as of late.
I was not worrying about how the meeting had gone with Julie from PDX FOODS that afternoon. Turned out that the grocery group had been looking for a local resource to pilot self-service coffee bean displays in its Portland area stores.
Now it seemed the Chocolate Lab was getting what I’d wished for…and my stomach was churning at the thought. The truffles could’ve been contributing, but I suspected it was due to the shih tzu-load of work ahead.
We’d had to postpone the meeting for a few weeks, and Julie had been super understanding about the delay. Still, the first thing she’d said when we’d all sat down at the tasting table in the roastery?
“Let’s get this dog show on the road!”
The “buy-local” grocery group loved everything about our Chocolate Lab Coffee brand. We were right in their dog, er, wheelhouse with our locally roasted coffee in coffee-mad Portland, dog-themed gear in dog-mad Portland, and custom chocolate rewards in chocolate-mad, well, anywhere.
They’d applauded our savvy proposal to provide the coffee bean bins and grinders, clean and restock the displays, and offer special promotions and sales. Yep, we’d do it all—all in exchange for exclusivity—meaning Chocolate Lab Coffee would be the “one and only” whole coffee bean display in each PDX FOODS store. We’d start out with a couple of pilots and expand to all their stores in the greater Portland area.
So why was I slugging down the chocolate truffles like they were shots of Irish whiskey?
I needed to pull this off to save the café—and I was on my own. Nobody knew how much I was counting on new roastery business. The café barely broke even in the best of months. It wasn’t sustainable on its own.
I’d hidden this crisis from Mom in her last months, and I was sure as shih tzu not going to spill the beans now. I didn’t want to chance anybody changing their plans on my account. Finn heading back to school, Pete truly retiring, Mike returning part-time only….and Rafe leaving for his next gig. All going, going, gone.
No wonder my stomach—and now my head—were aching.
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 pen and stuffed 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.