a hold of myself around Callum, I end up in a viral video, and I don’t want that to happen at the vet’s office, of all places.
He crosses his arms, his frown a strange mix of amusement and impatience. Again, his gaze skims my chest, but only for a second before he refocuses. “Why, exactly?”
“Because I don’t need a favor from you.”
“It wasn’t for you. It was for the cat.” His curt words land like a slap to the face. Like I was a fool to assume he would waste such kindness on me.
It’s so obvious now that I think about it. He volunteers at a pet clinic, which means he loves animals—which means he’s the kind of person who would go above and beyond to make sure one of those animals is taken care of.
“I see.” Somehow, I’m able to speak even though my jaw is tense as I attempt to stave off the embarrassment coursing through me. I swallow, taking care that my tone is as curt as his. “Thanks.”
I turn away and head out the door without a second look back.
Chapter 5
I toss then turn over in my bed. It’s been a handful of days since the incident at the vet clinic, and I’m struggling to focus—and I know exactly why. Seeing Callum naked at Little Beach appealed to my carnal side. Seeing him go all cuddly over Lemon the cat appealed to my sentimental side. Experiencing those two sides of him was a lethal combo. I still don’t like him, especially after he made it clear at the vet’s office that he didn’t see me as anything other than a feline guardian in need of his charity. But like has very little to do with intrigue sometimes. And it’s safe to say that the part of my brain that appreciates Callum’s body and his soft spot for pets is very, very intrigued. He’s completely overrun my thoughts and emotions.
I hang my head over the side of the bed to peek at Lemon, who’s snoozing underneath. That’s been her resting spot of choice ever since I brought her home. I smile at the soft wheezing noise she makes.
I settle back on the bed. A tiny mass of heat simmers at the base of my chest, causing me to flush every single time I think about him. It also makes an appearance whenever I catch a glimpse of him at work. It doesn’t matter that each time I’ve seen him since the Little Beach incident he’s been fully clothed, or that we haven’t exchanged anything more than an accidental few seconds of eye contact. Even the recent uptick in customers and social media coverage due to our turf war have done little to curb the near-constant impure thoughts I’m having about him.
You’d think that having nonstop lunch and dinner rushes would keep my mind occupied—it doesn’t—or that seeing our food truck blow up on social media due to our new rivalry with Hungry Chaps would be a distraction—it isn’t.
It doesn’t matter that whenever I check Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, I’m bombarded with hashtags like #mauifoodtruckwars, #tivasvschaps, #EnglandvsPhilippines, and everything else related to our rivalry. Because all of that ends up being a reminder of Callum and the fact that I can’t get him out of my head.
Flipping to my side, I pull a pillow over my face. At least Mom and I are getting along again. She accepted my apology after my outburst and is back to working a healthy number of hours. She went gaga over Lemon when I brought her home, too, which helped ease the tension between us. We’ve also developed a couple new recipes for the food festival and are testing them out at the food truck as featured lunch specials. Both regulars and new customers have been raving, giving us the confidence boost we’ll need to bring our A game to the festival. Now if only I could get a proper night’s sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, Callum’s flawless form shows up like an ill-timed highlight reel. It takes at least an hour of tossing and turning to fall asleep, which then means groggy mornings. I can’t handle another night of less than six hours of sleep.
Pushing the pillow off my face, I sigh.
If I were a guy, I know exactly how I would handle this. I’d jerk off, enjoy the temporary bliss, then fall asleep. Such a simple solution, but there’s no chance. Callum is my competition, the person standing in