Page 57 of Simmer Down
“Hungry Chaps, huh?” She raises her brow at Callum, who’s now frowning. “How clever.”
She strains her neck to read the menu tacked on the side of the truck. But I can tell by the exaggerated arch of her back that it’s amove to display her ample chest, which is barely contained in her black crop top. It complements her microscopic jean cutoffs perfectly, which showcase two perfect slivers of tanned butt cheek.
“I might need your help choosing something. I’m having trouble deciding.” This stunner has the most insincere, whiny drawl I’ve ever heard. I don’t know anything about this woman, but she strikes me as the kind of person who would fake indecisiveness just to get a hot guy like Callum to talk to her.
I swallow, my mouth sour.
Callum studies his notepad. “Fish-and-chips are good. So is the steak pie.”
The moment she leans her head up closer to him, he leans back inside the window of the truck, staring like she’s some mystery science project.
She grins wide. “One pie for me, then.”
He scribbles her order and starts to turn away, but then she reaches up to grab his forearm.
The heat inside me turns bitter. I order it away, but to no avail. I have no right to feel jealous in this moment. Callum isn’t mine. We’re just friends with benefits. And this no-strings-attached arrangement means he can see her—or any other woman he wants. I knew that from the get-go. But to see it play out in front of me throws me completely.
Now the entire inside of my mouth is sour. Every time I swallow, I taste poison.
“Yes?” Callum remains still in her hold. I’m beyond shocked he doesn’t shrug her away. He’s not one to let a stranger grab him out of the blue. But she’s not a typical stranger. She’s sexy and flirty and easy on the eyes.
“I don’t get to hear accents like yours very often,” she says. “Can you say a little more before you go and take care of my pie?”
If I weren’t clenching my jaw so hard, it would be on the ground. That’s some ballsy innuendo. I’m sure this living doll is dying for Callum to do naughty things to her pie.
I’m also guessing that, looking the way she does, she doesn’t normally have to work this hard to get a man’s attention. She’s not letting it faze her though. Callum is indisputably hot. I watch women ogle him all day, every day. But rarely do they saunter up with even a fraction of the gumption she possesses.
The edge of his mouth twitches up. It almost looks like the start of a smile.
“How about, ‘Your food will be ready in ten minutes,’” he says.
Her free hand falls to her bare clavicle, and she audibly swoons. Her other hand remains clamped on his skin. My stomach lurches. I want to vomit.
She narrows her deep brown eyes at Callum, like a puma eyeing an injured deer. She bites her lip, practically moaning.
“Lovely. I’m dying to hear you talk more. After your shift maybe?”
My heart thuds so hard against my chest, I’m certain it’s going to burst out and land on the dirt several feet away from me. Steam is hissing from my ears and my skin is lava. I want to march the ten feet to where this sex kitten stands and pull her gorgeous hair out of her scalp. Because how dare she. Callum is mine and—
I nearly crumple to the ground. He is not mine. He never was and he never will be. This all-consuming possession I feel for him is completely irrational and not one bit okay. He has every right to say yes to her proposition. And I have zero right to feel this way.
That moment of romantic feelings that swooped through me at the Paia block party and the night we spent drinking champagne at his condo should have clued me in. They’re both signs that we need to cool off ASAP.
I spin on my sneakered heel and march back to my truck where Mrs. Tokushige and Mom chat happily about the Easter dinner Mrs. Tokushige is planning. I’m thankful they don’t notice the change in my demeanor. They would definitely ask questions, but I don’t want them to think anything is amiss.
I pull out my phone from my pocket, then text Callum.
Hey. Something came up. Can’t meet tonight. Sorry.
I turn it on silent, then resume taking orders and slinging baskets of food. Hopefully, Callum read my text before saying no to that oversexed Tinkerbell. Because now he’s free to take her up on her offer to listen to him talk while she preps her pie for him.
I grit my teeth even harder, wondering if he’ll say yes, all the while praying he says no.
•••
“I’m tired,anak. Going to bed.” Mom squeezes me in a hug.
I glance at the clock on the oven. “It’s not even eight thirty.”
