Page 31 of Simmer Down
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 onceagain. 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 her bed-and-breakfast growing up. Finn and I would do the cooking and cleaning as teenagers.”
“Seriously?”
His eyes cut to me. “You sound surprised.”
“That sounds so... quaint. And heartwarming. Very unlike you.”
He chuckles. “We enjoyed it. Got to plan the menus together. The guests loved whatever we’d come up with. We’d trade off being head chef every other night. Finn loved that. Though he loved it a lot less the nights I was in charge. According to him, I’m bossy.”
“No way.” I try for fake surprise. He rewards me with a wink.
“Finn was a bit reckless in the kitchen growing up,” Callum says. “He avoided countless grease fires thanks to me.”
“You’ve got the protective-big-brother act down,” I say.
There’s a long pause. He looks away from me, then clears his throat. “There’s a reason for that.”
“Which is?”
Another extended pause. He takes a breath. “Finn was hit by a car when he was five years old. He was riding his bike, and a drunk driver crashed into him. He nearly died.”
“Oh God.” I cup my hand over my mouth.
“He’s fine now, of course, but he was in a coma at first. I sat byhis side every day in the hospital, holding his hand, hoping that he’d just wake up and get better. I thought I was going to lose him, my only brother. My only sibling.”
The hard clench of his jaw, the glistening of his eyes give away just how hard he’s struggling to keep it together while telling me all this.
Like a reflex, my hand falls to his forearm. Inside, I’m cringing. The urge to comfort happened so fast, before I could think twice and hesitate. I expect a frown or for him to ask just what the hell I think I’m doing. But none of that happens. All he does is close his eyes and nod.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
