something to do with her posting that. And then when you smiled and waved at me, it felt like you were mocking me. That’s why I didn’t acknowledge you.”
“Oh.” The realization takes a second to soak in. “I thought she just wanted a selfie. I didn’t know she was going to post that.”
“So all that was a misunderstanding,” he says. He lets out a half groan, half exhale before pressing back into his seat.
“Looks like it.”
We say nothing for a solid minute.
He coughs, then clears his throat. “I’m sorry for the way I made you feel at the vet’s office. And with your car. I don’t . . . I was truly just trying to help you. I didn’t mean anything disrespectful when I told you to keep your money. When I help someone, I never, ever accept money when they offer it. I always tell them to keep it, that it’s better off with them than with me because all I want to do is help.”
With his clarification, the residual anger burns away like clouds dissipating after a storm.
“Huh.” It comes out like a bewildered huff of breath. “I thought you were taking a swipe at me because of my financial situation.”
He squints at me. “Your financial situation?”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend, Callum. From the state of my car and my food truck, it’s obvious money has been a bit of a struggle.” When I look back up at him, his hazel eyes are bright with concern. My resolve starts to soften. “I mean, it’s not as bad now. We’re not rolling in the dough, but ever since this unofficial competition started, business is picking up. I guess everybody wants to eat at our trucks just to see if we’ll go off on each other. Crazy, huh?”
I let a small laugh slip; he does too.
He glances back down at his phone and clicks on the Instagram story for Hungry Chaps. A silent video plays of Finn plating up a basket of fish-and-chips against a glittery star filter.
“Glitter and stars? I didn’t know that was your guys’ style.” The words are out of my mouth before I can catch myself. But I can’t help my curiosity. Callum was obviously the one who filmed the video, since Finn was in it, but I would have never pegged him for a guy who would choose such a flashy filter.
When he looks up at me, I fully expect to be scolded for peering at his phone. But then he just shrugs. “Finn thought it would be funny. He runs all our social media accounts and seems to know well what customers like to see. I’m not really into Instagram. I have my own account, but I lost interest the day I made it.”
There’s a muffled announcement from the pilot about a bit of rough turbulence ahead.
“Would you be up for playing a game?” he says, out of the blue.
I squint at him.
Stretching up out of his seat, he tucks his phone into his pocket. “There’s a game Finn and I used to play when we were youngsters. The Question Game. We’d take turns asking each other questions, and we’d have to answer them, no matter what.”
“Okay . . .” I have no idea where this is going.
“It might be nice to talk about something other than work and us fighting about work.”
Can’t argue with him there.
“We can try to be quiet,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You really think we can make it for the next eight hours saying nothing to each other?”
No. “Yes.”
His gaze glides to my collarbone, then back up to my face. I wonder what that long glance was about.
“Don’t you want to at least try to see if we can get on temporarily?”
It’s a weird idea, using a childhood game to keep the peace between us. But it’s better than my strategy of stewing silently next to each other for the rest of the flight.
“Fine. I’ll play.”
He points at me. “Ladies first.”
“Okay. How does an English guy like you like living in Hawaii?”
He clears his throat. “It isn’t how I thought it would be.”
“How did you think it would be?” I try to sound as sincere as possible. I honestly want to give this attempt at civil conversation a fair shot. And I honestly want to know.
“A lot less yelling at people in public during work hours, for one,” he says.