By Saturday, I’d finished a job at a nearby house, fixing the roof and replacing the deck. I got home by five o’clock, knowing there would be no one there since Rafe and Woody had taken the weekend to go up the coast.
I got out of the truck, put away my stuff in the workshop, and trudged up to the front door. Before I could unlock it, I heard a car pull into the driveway. I turned around and dropped my keys, surprised at the sight of René getting out of his vehicle and walking toward me, paper bag in hand.
I gathered my scattered thoughts enough to ask, “What the hell are you doing here, René?”
He didn’t respond until he was right in front of me. I could see the myriad shades of brown in his eyes and tried not to notice his moist lips. He smelled like toffee.
“Woody stopped by the bake
