Fair Trade (Bold Brew #7) - Cate Ashwood Page 0,26

in my hands. My whole body was shaking, the comedown off the surge of adrenaline from a few minutes ago.

What the hell was I doing?

I’d let him kiss me. In fact, I’d have let him do a whole lot more if I hadn’t been reminded we weren’t alone.

What was it about Nick that made all common sense fly out the window?

He made me feel like I’d never felt before.

There was a kind of freedom to being with him. It was addicting and dangerous, and I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that if I let myself get caught up in it, I was going to crash and burn.

Hard.

I’d lost so much already. What I had left was barely a scrap in the bottom of a bucket. No family. Friends were little more than work colleagues. Jody had been the bright spot in every week, and she was gone—moving on with her life and doing what made her happy.

I was jealous of her guts, going after what she wanted.

I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted.

All I knew was that if I wasn’t careful, Nick would be my downfall.

Callum

Sleep had been an issue for me for a long time. Shift workers often had trouble developing healthy sleep routines, but the last two weeks, mine had been worse than ever.

Every time I tried to sleep, memories of being with Nick infiltrated my thoughts, which set off spirals of anxiety in every direction.

And waking up that day was painful. I was more irritable than usual, and I dreaded going to work more than I had in the last fifteen years.

But that was nothing compared to when I arrived at the station. My mood turned into this weird mix of anger and anticipation, relief and dread. On the one hand, being around Nick made me feel things I’d never felt before. I felt alive, and terrified, and inches away from losing my fucking mind.

But on the other hand, he was dependable, even-keeled, and was turning out to be a better medic than I ever could have hoped for.

“Man, we’re getting our asses kicked tonight.” Nick rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand. I could see the exhaustion setting in. The second night shift was always harder than the first, and when it was nonstop, call after call, fatigue happened quick.

But it was part of the job—not something I’d ever gotten used to, but something I’d come to expect.

“Can we ask dispatch to put us out of service for a few so we can grab some coffee?”

“Sure.”

Nick started up the ambulance and took off down Main Street.

“Wrong way, Nick.”

He quirked a grin that made my stomach flip. “Nuh-uh. Bold Brew’s this way.”

“Bold Brew?”

He glanced over. “Ever been there?”

“No.” But I’d heard things about the events they held there sometimes. My pulse kicked up. It was one of the few places open late, but for some reason, most of the crews opted to hit up the Dunkin’ Donuts over on Spruce.

It was just a coffee shop, but it felt like so much more than that. It almost felt… dangerous.

Which was completely fucking ridiculous.

Nick parked out front and cut the engine. I paused before unlatching my seat belt.

“Come on,” he urged. “Or we’re not going to get enough time to order before dispatch starts getting pissy.”

“I’m coming,” I assured him, trying my damnedest not to sound like I was losing my mind.

Because I wasn’t.

I was fine.

Totally fine.

Why the hell wasn’t I fine?

It looked like a regular coffee shop from outside, the interior warm and comforting through the large windows out front. I don’t know what I was expecting. Guys trussed up, naked, and getting fucked right there in the café?

Nick walked ahead, holding the door for me to step inside.

I walked through the entrance, my boots clomping too loudly on the parquet floor as we crossed the space toward the counter.

It had a homey quality to it, with a few tables scattered along the back half of the room. The front area was occupied with a collection of plush sofas, a pair of coffee tables, and a cozy fireplace in the corner.

There were three people ahead of us in line and a few groups of people seated at a couple of the tables. One man was curled up in a chair by the fireplace, papers scattered all around him.

Either a writer or a teacher, I figured.

Given the hour of the night, and considering how many people were there, the place must