the first few months I was gone, to ask if I was okay and if there was anything they could do for me. I never followed up with them. I’ve never even called them back to catch up or say hello. It was pretty cruel, looking back on it.”
This is the first time I’ve admitted all of this out loud, and it still makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I was the world’s worst friend.
“It’s been over a year since I’ve talked to any of my friends on the mainland,” I say quietly.
Callum shakes his head. “Nikki.”
The sound of my name spoken in his soft, low tone is made melodic by his accent and sends a tingle through me.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You had a family emergency and had to act quickly. I’m sure they understood.”
“I’ll never know.”
“You can reconnect with them. People get back in touch all the time nowadays.”
“Maybe.” Maybe someday when things are secure, I’ll have time for friends again.
“You should consider it,” he says softly.
It’s a thought that’s crossed my mind a million times. I have every single one of their numbers still saved in my phone. But what kind of jerk would I sound like if I called up my old workmates after almost a year and a half of zero contact?
Callum’s gaze falls to his lap. When he looks back up at me, his face is twisted into a pained expression. “Nikki, if I had known you lost your dad when we first met, I wouldn’t have acted like such a . . .”
“Wanker?”
He breaks into the widest grin I’ve ever seen him make, and it’s pure, unfettered joy. It must be contagious, because now I’m grinning too.
“You’re using my lingo. Love it,” he says. “Is that what you thought of me when you first met me?”
“No. You were nice to me when you thought I was the health inspector. But when you started being mean, yeah. It was straight to wanker.”
He chuckles, not the least bit offended at my honesty.
I let out a small laugh. “I’d say sorry, but I know you thought the same of me.”
“Not really,” he says, his gaze fixed to mine.
“Yeah right.”
“It’s the truth. I liked you straightaway.”
“Not possible. You were pissed at me, just like I was pissed at you.”
For a second he looks away, like he’s trying to rein in the smile that’s so close to splitting his face. When he turns back to me, the lightest shade of pink splashes across his cheeks.
“You made me angry. But I liked it.”
My mouth goes dry. “You did?”
“I have a bit of a thing for gorgeous women who take the piss out of me.”
“Really?”
The break that follows is like silent flirting. He’s gazing at me and I’m gazing at him. The expression on his face is an intriguing mix of shy and smug, like he’s unsure if admitting that to me was a good idea, but he wanted to do it anyway.
His admission flatters me as much as it intrigues me. Yes, it’s a bit nutty that I’m well on my way to liking a guy I loathed two hours ago. But this little bit of honest flirting has gone a long way toward repairing the rift between us.
“Should I keep calling you wanker, then?”
Callum lets out a throaty chuckle. “I suppose my personality isn’t fit for the hospitality industry.”
“It’s pretty damn well suited to finance.”
Confusion mars his face.
“I ran into Finn at the farmer’s market right before I saw you that day. He gave me a quick rundown of your professional past. Everything made a lot more sense when he told me you were an ex-finance guy.”
Callum lets out a groan, then a soft laugh. “Of course Finn would do that.”
“It was sort of sweet the way he defended you. He said you were the only one who offered to help him when he ran into trouble with his business.”
Flush creeps from behind the thick stubble on his face once again. Inside I’m cheering. It’s weird to pay a compliment to the guy I’ve been warring with the past few weeks. But it’s also intriguing. The gentle curve of his smile, the easy posture he assumes when we share about our backgrounds make me wish we could talk like this always.
“So in all your finance experience, did you also train how to cook and operate a restaurant? Because you do a pretty bang-up job.”
“A bit. I learned to cook by helping my gran at