Page 104 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

“Fuck!” I shout. Could this day get any worse?

Once my boot is back on, I go order my drink. After this shitty day, I deserve something fun, so I order one of their holiday specials. One I’ve never had before. When my name is called, I grab my cup, but instantly pull my hand away. It’s piping hot, even through the paper cup.

Groaning inwardly, I slip a cardboard sleeve around my drink and join Sam at a table. I plop into my seat, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asks in his most gentle voice, and it disarms me.

So, I let it out. I start at the top, telling him about how I pissed off Lisa all the way to the hole in my boot. “And, to top it off, this coffee is way too hot to drink, so now I have to wait.”

The sympathetic look on Sam’s face doesn’t waver throughout my entire vent session. “Well, how about you sit there and listen while I talk about the presentation? You don’t have to do anything for a while. Maybe that way, nothing else will go wrong.”

I chuckle, nodding. “What’s your idea for next week?”

True to his word, Sam does all the talking for the next several minutes. Diving into the presentation information, he goes over all the details, but never opens his computer. He gives me all his attention even though all I’m doing is listening.

And boy, I could listen to him talk all day. His deep voice is so smooth, it wraps me in velvety softness. A few times, my mind wanders, and I conjure the sound of his voice when he’s talking dirty in my ear. Even with these extra layers on, I get goosebumps.

When he’s finished, he picks up his coffee. “So, what do you think?”

“I think it all sounds good.” I tentatively wrap my hand around my cup, elated when I find it cooled enough to touch. “Finally,” I say in a breath.

Sam laughs. “You sure are excited about that coffee.”

“Well, I wanted to try something new.”

“Really? What did you get?”

“Gingerbread latte,” I say, lifting my cup to my lips.

Sam snatches the cup from my hand, yanking it away like I was about to drink acid.

“Hey!” I shout. “What the hell?”

“You’re not drinking this.”

Is he joking? If so, it’s not funny. “Want to bet? Give it back.” I reach across him, but he scoots his chair back, shaking his head. “Sam,” I say, folding my arms. “Give me my drink back.”

“Brynn, you can’t drink it.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because they top it with cinnamon. See?” He pulls the lid off to reveal a fluffy mound of foam sprinkled with brown powder.

My eyes widen. “Oh, shit.” I slump back into my chair. “I didn’t even think to ask.”

“Yeah, obviously. You really want to top off your bad day with a trip to the hospital?”

I squeeze my eyes tight, flashes of my almost future playing behind my eyelids. My body temperature rising. My throat constricting. My tongue swelling. It hasn’t happened since I was young. I’ve been so vigilant, so meticulous about ingredients. Until today.

“You need to be more careful.”

I bristle at what sounds like Sam chiding a wayward toddler, but when I open my eyes, the fear on his face confuses me. As I stare at him, I let his words replay. The tone of his voice echoes in my mind, sounding more and more like concern each time.

He wasn’t berating me. He was scared, and he protected me the only way he could.

My anger slowly ebbs as his regard for my safety warms me. “Thank you,” I say, ducking my chin.

“No worries. It’s what friends are for.”

---