The Secrets of Rosa Lee by Jodi Thomas

the rosebush, Randi stood on the porch ready to go. He motioned for her to climb in and was surprised at how she walked slowly to the car and turned her face to the rain, as if it didn’t bother her at all.
    When she closed her door, he said, “You really do like the rain.”
    Randi shrugged. “I’ve been rained on a lot. It doesn’t scare me anymore.”
    They drove back to the bar in silence. He thought about what she’d said, and what she hadn’t said.
    The parking lot was dark when they got to the bar. The sisters’ van was the only one out front. Micah didn’t want this strange time to end, but had no idea what to say. He knew he wasn’t likely to see Randi again after tonight.
    â€œYou want to come in for breakfast?” She lifted thedoorknob. “I always eat when the night’s over, then I can sleep until noon without waking up starving.”
    He hadn’t had a bite since before the committee meeting that morning. “I’d love to, if you don’t mind? But I warn you, I’m starving.”
    â€œI asked, didn’t I? I think I can fill you up.”
    They walked to the back door. She reached above the frame. “Frankie kept locking himself out and we didn’t want to leave the door unlocked, so he installed a latch above the door. Lights flash in the kitchen and my office when this back door swings.” She led him down a hallway lined with boxes and mops to a tiny kitchen.
    â€œOf course, I lock it when I head upstairs for the night. We figure only a tall drunk could reach the latch, providing they knew about it.”
    He wondered if she often told her secrets so easily. Looking around the kitchen he tried to understand her. The kitchen appeared to have been added to the bar in the fifties. Nothing had been updated. The counters were red linoleum, stained and worn through in a few places. Pots and knives hung on the wall behind a stove. The refrigerator clanked out a steady beat. The place was spotless.
    â€œFrankie used to serve hot appetizers years ago, but it got to be too much trouble.” She pulled a string on a bare light swinging from the center of the low ceiling. “I keep it open so when I’m stuck here I won’t starve.” She winked. “A girl can’t live on bar nuts alone.”
    The cleanliness of the place surprised him. There was a wildness about this woman, but there was also an order.
    â€œIf you want to dry off, there’s a stack of towels by the back door.” She combed her hair with her fingers and twisted it into a wild knot behind her head. “How do you like your eggs?”
    â€œAny way but scrambled,” he answered thinking ofthe thousand church breakfasts he’d eaten with scrambled eggs. He heard her banging around the kitchen while he dried his hair in the hallway between the back door and the kitchen. Using paper towels, he wiped mud off his shoes then washed his hands in a big sink that looked as if it would only be used to clean mops. The Rogers sisters’ rosebush had torn a two-inch rip in his trousers at the knee, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Since he had no comb, he raked a hand through his hair, hoping he wouldn’t frighten her.
    Then he laughed. The woman owned the roughest bar for thirty miles around. Probably nothing frightened her. In all likelihood she told him about the back door’s latch because she wasn’t the least afraid of him.
    When he walked back into the kitchen, the smell of steak and onions grilling drifted across the room. She motioned for him to sit before turning back to the stove.
    Micah tried not to stare but couldn’t help himself. The lean woman in tight jeans and a rain-dampened Western shirt that stopped an inch above her waist was unlike anyone he’d ever encountered. She moved with an easy grace, but everything he knew about her told him she must be made of rawhide.
    â€œHow do you