Chapter 22Rose
Chapter 22
Rose
I pushed back against a wall of warmth and hugged an arm to my chest. So toasty.
Pirate chuffed right in front of my face, and I slowly opened my eyes. As usual, my pup was sitting by my bedside, urging me to get up. This time, though, Princess was planted next to him, perked ears barely coming to his shoulder, peering at me too.
What the…fido?
I looked down at the fist and forearm I was gripping…yes…right between my breasts. Luckily, I was wearing my bulky sweater (weird), my tight jeans (weirder), and my fuzzy slippers (weirdest).
No wonder I was toasty. Although I think the arm tucked to my chest—thankfully also clothed with a T-shirt tight around the biceps and a sleeve of tattoos to the wrist—had something to do with that. Plus, I was resting my head on a bent elbow, and steady breaths heated the back of my neck. To say nothing of the hot hardness that dared to press against my entire backside.
So, again, no wonder I was “toasty.” It was a miracle I wasn’t going up in flames.
I jumped when a bugle playing…reveille?…sounded from the other side of the bed. Not my phone, because all my ringtones were Elvis songs.
Rafe jolted awake with a groan and pulled me even tighter to his chest before releasing me to turn off his phone’s alarm.
He whispered, “Rose? Babe? Are you awake?”
I rolled onto my back and looked up at him, my face flushed from all the…clothing, all the…covers. Yeah, that was why.
I had questions, so many questions. But the first one was, “How long was I out?”
Rafe quirked his lips and did the math for me. “It’s five thirty now, so that means you slept about fourteen hours straight, including the time in the pickup.”
Fourteen hours. Fido. Fourteen hours. I haven’t slept that long through the night since…well, since never.
I yelped and jumped out of the bed, pushing the dogs aside. Five thirty, and I needed to be at the Chocolate Lab at six o’clock to start getting ready to open at seven. And I was closing tonight too, since Mateo and Rafe were playing their final outdoor soccer match. Mateo had been kind enough to cover the entire day when we’d gone to the beach yesterday, so I was returning the favor.
“Rose, Rose, slow down.” Rafe stood and started to herd Pirate and Princess out the bedroom door. I couldn’t help but notice his snug briefs.
“Why don’t you catch a shower and get dressed while I take care of the dogs? You’ll have time for a little breakfast that way. Do you want coffee now or later at the café?”
I was finally catching up—and I had questions. What was Rafe doing in my bedroom, let alone in my bed? Why was he still here? Why hadn’t he vanished in the night after what I’d shared—and overshared—yesterday?
I crossed to the door and grabbed the front of his T-shirt to tug his head down to my level.
“Now,” I whispered, pressing a hard kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”
And…what would he do if he found out the rest of my story? Yes, I had questions. But they’d have to wait for tonight.
After my short shower with a dollop of personal grooming, coffee—fake sweetener but real whip…I know, I know—and Rafe-scrambled eggs, quick but hot and protein-rich, I grabbed my laptop and walked down to open the Chocolate Lab.
Rafe had said he had some errands and would be there later to do roasts.
I was happy for the break from our close to twenty-four hours of togetherness. Even though I planned to use the time and space to think about those said twenty-four. Analyze each word, dissect each look, relive each touch.
Thankfully, multitasking was my superpower. I could think—and overthink—about my day with Rafe at the same time I refocused on the realities of keeping the Chocolate Lab alive. Not that I didn’t trust Mateo to run the café’s day-to-day operations—I did, with all my businesslike little heart.
No, it was the realities of keeping the café side of the Chocolate Lab in the black while speeding up the growth of the wholesale coffee bean side. If I didn’t kick off the grocery store pilot, and soon, I’d be looking at closing the café next spring.
Maybe that was why a fling with Rafe would be so appealing—and so dangerous.
So dangerous because getting busy could distract me from the true business at hand. Yet so appealing because it would speak to my sensual nature—which seldom got the chance to play off-leash. But so dangerous because it would offer me a taste of true intimacy, a flavor of a true relationship—complete with a guaranteed date of departure.
Could I do this without getting hurt?
Even more, should I feel guilty about not telling Rafe all my history with men? Sure, he’d heard about my bad judgment in trusting Finn’s father, and he’d still been there this morning…in my bed.
It was different with Brent. I’d been older and should’ve been wiser. I’d let the smooth talker into our lives with his promises of love, a home of our own, security for the future.
Only, the dog butt had deserted me at the last moment. Literally, the last moment, at the church. No wonder his family hadn’t flown out from New York.
The subtext in his text—yes, text—had shouted loud and clear. Rose, I can’t do this. I made a decision without talking it through with you. We’re not right for each other. It’s you, not me. We don’t want the same things. I don’t want to be a stepdad to your son, or be a dad, ever. Sorry. Send me all the bills. As if it was the money that mattered.
I stilled in the back of the bakery case, clutching a scone a smidge too tightly. How would Rafe react if I told him about how I’d misjudged a guy again ? Would he think I was looking for more sympathy points? Or worse, would he fear I was expecting more from him?
So many questions, so little time. That was where multitasking came in handy—doing my thinking about personal business while taking care of business business.
I sighed and finished stocking the rest of the bakery goods. At any moment, the kids on the morning shift would start swinging through the door. I faced a packed day and a bazillion-and-one Post-its, ranging from getting ready for the Dogwood Treat-n-Treat Saturday to calling Kenzo for more chocolate truffles from his new shop to posting pics from our Howl-o-ween Pumpkin Carving Contest.
Oh, fido, that’s right! I need to dump my Post-its on the grocery pilot into the project management software on my laptop.
I reached back in and grabbed a chocolate-chip scone to stuff in my face. Who says stress-eating doesn’t relieve stress?
Later that night, at least two of my questions had been answered. To be fair, I had already known the answer to one of them.
I was jammed close to Rafe at the Hair of the Dog, helping the Dogwood soccer team celebrate winning its last outdoor match of the season. WAGs and friends—I was firmly in the “friend” category—had been texted to join the guys for beer and pizza after they’d changed out of their soccer gear. I’d had plenty of time to close up the Chocolate Lab, check the dogs at home and walk over. Jen and Katt were there, along with Jean-Luc, Liam, Mateo, Mike and the rest of the crowd.
So, when Liam asked Rafe if he was signing up for the Dogwood team’s indoor session scheduled to start in mid-November, I wasn’t caught off guard. Although I felt a little awkward for some reason, what with Rafe side-eyeing me and Jen throwing me a pitying look across the table.
“Sorry,” Rafe said gruffly and stopped to clear his throat. “Sorry. I don’t think it’d be fair to start the season when I couldn’t finish it. I’ve got to leave for my new job in Boise by mid-December.”
The entire table quieted down, much to my delight. Not.
Liam, of course, had to ask the question I could already answer on my own. “Oh. You’re not staying on at the Chocolate Lab after Mike gets back?” He shot a glance at me before saying, “I thought you were expanding the coffee operations?”
It was a small neighborhood—word got around.
Luckily, Mateo dove in before it could get any more awkward and answered for me, “Yeah, things are in the works for growth. However, Rafe has a commitment he made to another coffee company even before he got here. Right, man?”
“Yeah, right,” Rafe finally spoke up. “The owners are leaving on a trip to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary, and I’m filling in as the coffee roaster and operations manager for at least two months.”
Thankfully, conversation resumed around the table. And I took a looong pull on my beer to celebrate that.
Rafe edged closer to me on the bench, if that were possible, and put his warm hand on my knee under the table. I shivered at his touch and got an answer to my second question of the night when he whispered in my ear, “Ready for me to walk you home?”
So we really were going to act on our attraction to each other. After yesterday—after sharing histories, setting expectations, sleeping-but-only-sleeping together. I supposed we weren’t hiding anything from anybody here if we left together, because…all adults—right?
I just hoped that, this time, I could truly separate the physical from the emotional.