Matteo chuckles, clearly pleased at his joke. I turn away to roll my eyes.
“They’re taking the money forfeited by the disgraced winner last year and adding it to this year’s prize,” Matteo says. “That means twenty thousand dollars for the winner. That’s really quite something, isn’t it?”
Callum and I shoot identical WTF expressions at Matteo. On the inside, I’m pumped. Twenty thousand dollars is a game-changing amount of money. We could fix up our food truck, invest in some new supplies, and put whatever’s left over into Mom’s savings.
Callum pivots to me and sticks out his hand. “Shall we make it official?”
He wants to shake on it? I nearly scoff, but we have an audience. Best to be sportsmanlike for the cameras for a change.
When I slip my hand in his, there’s a jolt. Electricity? Shock? The surprise comfort of skin-to-skin contact with the British hottie who can’t stand me? Probably. The feel of Callum’s hard, rough, warm hand against mine is a treat. I’m surprised. It’s exactly the same firm, respectable grip he employed when he first shook my hand the morning he mistook me for the health inspector. I thought he’d for sure opt for a limp fish or douchey iron grip since our every interaction from that point has been hostile.
In these few seconds though, I’m not shaking the hand of the most disagreeable human being I’ve ever met. No, this is simply a hand on another hand, a small part of his body on mine. A devastatingly beautiful and cut body that I wish would show me a smidgen of kindness, like I showed him the day we met. Maybe if he had, we could have sorted this out and shared a laugh. My mind wanders some more. There would have been no arguments, no glares, no hurtful words exchanged. In my perfect world scenario, Callum would have agreed to move his truck elsewhere, but not before asking for my number. I would have given him a cute compliment about his accent and told him that my aunt and uncle live in London, which would have further broken the ice. Flirty texting would have most definitely ensued.
And then I catch him giving me that look again. That same split-second once-over he gave me the day we met, when we were arguing and I was incensed that he would dare to check me out in such a heated moment. Only this time, it doesn’t enrage me. It sets me simmering, on fire in the best way. Like when you finally catch eyes with someone you’ve been gazing at from afar, and in that one look they give you, you know they want you just as much as you want them.
But then he furrows his brow and it’s gone. When he releases me from his grip, my hopeful thoughts drift away with the gusts of salty ocean air. A million dollars says I was mistaken. He wasn’t checking me out; he was sizing me up. I bite the inside of my cheek. Shame on me for fantasizing. It’s pathetic, especially when the object of my fantasy so blatantly wants to destroy me, and the only thing Callum’s dreaming about is taking this prime parking spot from me.
I breathe in, square my shoulders, and look Callum straight in the eye. “Okay, then. Bring it.”
Chapter 3
A pyramid of lumpia rests on the counter of our condo’s kitchen, right next to the stove. Carefully, I maneuver one from the bottom of the pile and take a bite. It’s a burst of all of my favorite flavors: the rich, well-seasoned ground pork, the tender rice noodles, the crispy shredded cabbage and carrots, the even crispier fried flour wrapper holding everything together, and the tangy sweet chili dipping sauce.
“Mom, I think you’ve done enough experimenting. All of these batches have been delicious.”
I dip the other, unbitten end into a small dish of sweet chili sauce.
“You never know what people will want,” she says. “Some like it with pork, some like it with chicken, some like it with shrimp.”
Our post-work evening has been spent testing out different batches of lumpia for the upcoming Maui Food Festival. Ever since I told her we’d be competing to keep our spot on Makena Road, she’s been in a food-prepping frenzy. Every night after work for the past week she’s spent hours testing out new dishes, tweaking ingredients to get the flavors just right. Yesterday it was adjusting the level of fish sauce in the pansit,