As Frank verbally walked him through each stage of the roasting process, Colt marveled at the numerous similarities to his culinary education. Pairing the various beans, roasting temperature and duration—each step was designed to enhance the flavor and mouthfeel; a delicate dance between chemistry and art. And Colt found himself captivated by every minute detail.
He didn’t care that he’d started to sweat, both from the heat and exertion. Or that Frank hadn’t stopped barking orders since he’d loaded the beans into the machine.
They’d finished Cassie’s blend, plus two espresso roasts for the café, and Colt wasn’t even close to losing interest.
“What about a blonde roast?” he asked, eager to learn more. “Can we do one of those next?”
Frank’s expression darkened.
“I take it you’re not a fan.”
“And why would I be a fan of sour coffee?”
“Doesn’t it have more caffeine?”
“You want caffeine? Drink green tea. You want good coffee, then roast it properly,”—Frank grumbled, adding—“Anything worth doing, should be done right. You’re either all in or you’re out. We’ll do Cassie’s blend again and see how much you remember.”
As Colt strode to the barrel of Sumatra, Frank’s words tumbled in his mind.
You’re either all in or you’re out.
Frank was right.
And not just about the coffee.
Chapter 14
As Penny stood on the rocky bank of Pinedrop River, a chill ran through her despite the late afternoon sun. If only she could take her own advice and run far, far away from her present fear, back to the safety of the familiar.
But she didn’t have that luxury, unless she wanted to disappoint Beverly.
“Nervous?” Colt peered down at her, concern etched into his tanned forehead.
“Why do you ask? Can you hear my teeth chattering?” She tried to muster a playful laugh, but it caught in her throat.
“Kind of, yeah.” He flashed his dimpled smile. But rather than impish and teasing, it radiated a warm, sympathetic quality that caused her pulse to quicken.
Her hands clenched around the smooth handle of her oar as she directed her gaze to their guide—a lean, muscular woman with long blond dreadlocks tied in an orange bandana on top of her head. No matter how many times she’d assured Penny that white water rafting was perfectly safe, Penny couldn’t calm her rampant heartbeat. It pounded in her ears above the rumble of the river as it charged downstream with deadly urgency.
“Do you think Roxie knows what she’s doing?” Penny watched the guide go over last-minute details with a young trainee by the water’s edge.
“Without a doubt,” Colt said with confidence. “She’s rafted the class-five rapids of Futaleufú River in Chile twice.”
“And class five… that’s pretty difficult?”
“Oh, yeah. The one time I did that run, I barely made it out alive.”
The laughter in his voice didn’t quite match the severity of his words. He must have noticed her horrified expression, because his features instantly softened. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Roxie is the best guide they’ve got. Plus, you have me.”
Penny frowned. “No offense, but that’s supposed to assuage my fears because…”
“Because I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”
The serious glint in his eyes caused her breath to falter. Swallowing hard, she dropped her gaze to the tips of her rubber-soled water shoes.
As their group loaded into the flimsy-looking raft, Penny’s stomach flipped. She’d feel much safer if it resembled an actual boat, with a sturdy floor and tall, protective sides. Instead, they’d be barreling down raging rapids in a glorified inner tube.
Her legs froze, unable to propel her body forward.
