all counts as a victory for Callum. A few minutes in the presence of his flawless naked body, and I’m unnerved and scatterbrained for the foreseeable future. I can’t bear the thought of ever looking at him again, let alone speaking to him.
When I close up for the day, I slowly, carefully drive back to Kihei. For a split second, I wish I lived in nearby Wailea so I wouldn’t have to risk a motor vehicle mishap when my focus is this shot. But then I remember that I will never be able to afford any of the ritzy condos or vacation homes that make up the area. So I take a breath, focus extra hard, and make my way back to more affordable Kihei and the modest yet cozy condominium complex I call home. After I park, I lean my head over the steering wheel and groan. I am so, so screwed.
* * *
• • •
The warfare has turned psychological. Ever since I got that front-row view of Callum’s impressive physique and even more impressive length the other day, I haven’t been able to rid my mind of him. That’s why I’m swimming at Baldwin Beach near sleepy Paia this morning instead of Little Beach. I’m scared that if I run into his naked form again, my head will explode. Best to keep my distance.
I walk out of the water, wrap myself in a towel, and stroll toward the far end of the beach, away from the small crowd of beachgoers. When I’m far enough away that I’m sure no one can hear me, I stop, then stare at the endless expanse of crystal-blue waves. On this clear day, the cloudless sky is so vibrant, it almost matches the color of the water. The wind picks up, and with it, the waves go choppy. I picked this beach to swim at because it was Dad’s favorite on the whole island. He loved this nearly mile-long stretch of sand because it was never as crowded as some of the other beaches on the island. It was where we spread most of his ashes after he passed, save for the small amount we keep in a ceramic urn at home. My eyes burn as I look out at the horizon.
“I miss you so much, Dad. You have no idea.” My voice is barely audible against the endless crash of waves. “It’s so hard without you here.”
I pull the towel tighter against me. Normally, a swim is enough to help me feel at peace. But lately, with the new food truck competition and the food festival on the horizon, I have to speak. I have to talk to him, even though I know he can’t say anything back.
“I’m trying so hard,” I sniffle. “I just . . . I hope I don’t let you down.”
My voice breaks just as the last word leaves my lips. I stutter a breath and take a peek around. Just a handful of sunbathers about twenty feet away and a jogger hitting the shoreline. Luckily, no one has seemed to notice the woman wrapped in a towel standing alone talking to herself.
Just then, something soft brushes against my leg and I glance down. A plump white cat with gray spots looks up at me.
“What the . . .”
It mews before working itself all along my ankles. Wiping away the tears, I chuckle, then crouch down to pet it. Unlike the random feral cats I’m used to seeing on the island, this kitty is crazy friendly. It stops and sits on the sand, letting me scratch its chin. Even through the ocean noise I can hear it purr. I’m smiling until the cat stands up and reveals a bloody stump that used to be its tail.
I scoop the plump cat up in my arms. The way it purrs even louder in my hold confirms that this little fur ball is probably a pet that’s been abandoned or lost. The one animal hospital in Paia is less than a mile up the street from this beach. In my car, I make it in less than two minutes. When I burst through the doors of the clinic cuddling the injured cat against my chest, the receptionist behind the front desk peers at me over the top of her glasses with a suspicious stare. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting a bikini-clad woman wrapped in a beach towel to walk into the office today.