by Sarah Smith
But this knockout has them all beat with his glorious eight-pack. If I were a pious woman, I’d run to the nearest church and offer a silent prayer of thanks for the visual.
My greedy eyes finally allow for a blink. I’m grateful the lenses on my sunglasses are reflective. If I weren’t shielded by these giant black orbs, my wide-eyed stare would be visible from outer space.
Halfway up the beach, he pauses to take a deep breath, bracing his hands on his thighs—and I’m treated to a crystal clear view of the goods. Air lodges in my throat before I let out a boom of a cough. I clamp my hand over my mouth, hoping he can’t hear me over the crashing waves.
I take it back. This sight is something to thank the heavens for. This man, this marble statue brought to life, is also blessed with one hell of a package. Holy hot damn indeed.
With each step forward he takes, my heart races. Be cool, I silently order to myself. Slowly turn your head away and stare straight ahead at the golden sand, at the perfect blue sea, at the radiant horizon ahead of you. Quit gawking like a perv!
From the direction he’s walking, he’s headed to Big Beach . . . which means he’ll have to walk right in front of me.
I divert my gaze to my toes, which are buried in the sand in front of me. I will not be that gross creeper who violates the unspoken code of conduct on Little Beach by staring too long. I breathe, close my eyes, and count to ten.
And when I look up, Mr. Hot Damn is standing right in front of me, his towel draped over his naughty bits.
When I focus on his face, I choke for real this time.
It’s Callum.
Chapter 4
Endless water droplets dot his gently tanned skin, making him glisten under the early-morning sunlight.
“You.” He sounds almost angry.
I wait for him to say more, but all that follows is silence.
“Um, yes,” I stammer. I sound like a confused child.
I scour my brain for anything else to say, but nothing else comes to me. All I can do is open and close my mouth a handful of times. All the while Callum’s laser-focused eyes drill invisible holes through me.
My body is on fire when I realize how creepy I must look in this moment. There Callum was, enjoying a predawn swim at a secluded beach, only to stumble upon his food truck nemesis eye-sexing him from just a few feet away. Judging by the angry wrinkle of his eyebrows, the way he refuses to break his scowl even to blink, the way he won’t even speak to me, he is not amused. He is not impressed. He is simply exasperated by the sight of me.
Jumping up, I grab my towel and jog away, tripping all the way up and down the rocky hill to Big Beach. I run the distance back to my car and speed to the commercial kitchen to prep for the day’s lunch service. By the time I finish loading the truck, I’m still huffing every breath. My heart is still racing. My body still feels like it’s engulfed in flames.
Callum employed a genius new battle tactic this morning, and I bet he didn’t even realize it. Everything in me screams retreat, to drive my food truck into the ocean, just so I’ll never have to face him ever again. Somehow, I properly insert the key into the ignition and navigate myself all the way back to my spot on Makena Road without crashing.
I’m not so lucky the rest of the day though. Mom texts me a heartfelt thank-you after reading my apology note on the kitchen table, but I’m too flustered to form words, so all I send back is a thumbs-up emoji and a heart. When I open for lunch, I proceed to screw up the first several orders. And then I burn a half dozen dishes. Focus is impossible after an epic distraction like that.
It all counts as a victory for Callum. A few minutes in the presence of his flawless naked body, and I’m unnerved and scatterbrained for the foreseeable future. I can’t bear the thought of ever looking at him again, let alone speaking to him.
When I close up for the day, I slowly, carefully drive back to Kihei. For a split second, I wish I lived in nearby Wailea so I wouldn’t have to risk a motor vehicle mishap when my focus is this shot. But then I remember that I will never be able to afford any of the ritzy condos or vacation homes that make up the area. So I take a breath, focus extra hard, and make my way back to more affordable Kihei and the modest yet cozy condominium complex I call home. After I park, I lean my head over the steering wheel and groan. I am so, so screwed.
* * *
• • •
The warfare has turned psychological. Ever since I got that front-row view of Callum’s impressive physique and even more impressive length the other day, I haven’t been able to rid my mind of him. That’s why I’m swimming at Baldwin Beach near sleepy Paia this morning instead of Little Beach. I’m scared that if I run into his naked form again, my head will explode. Best to keep my distance.
I walk out of the water, wrap myself in a towel, and stroll toward the far end of the beach, away from the small crowd of beachgoers. When I’m far enough away that I’m sure no one can hear me, I stop, then stare at the endless expanse of crystal-blue waves. On this clear day, the cloudless sky is so vibrant, it almost matches the color of the water. The wind picks up, and with it, the waves go choppy. I picked this beach to swim at because it was Dad’s favorite on the whole island. He loved this nearly mile-long stretch of sand because it was never as crowded as some of the other beaches on the island. It was where we spread most of his ashes after he passed, save for the small amount we keep in a ceramic urn at home. My eyes burn as I look out at the horizon.
“I miss you so much, Dad. You have no idea.” My voice is barely audible against the endless crash of waves. “It’s so hard without you here.”
I pull the towel tighter against me. Normally, a swim is enough to help me feel at peace. But lately, with the new food truck competition and the food festival on the horizon, I have to speak. I have to talk to him, even though I know he can’t say anything back.
“I’m trying so hard,” I sniffle. “I just . . . I hope I don’t let you down.”
My voice breaks just as the last word leaves my lips. I stutter a breath and take a peek around. Just a handful of sunbathers about twenty feet away and a jogger hitting the shoreline. Luckily, no one has seemed to notice the woman wrapped in a towel standing alone talking to herself.
Just then, something soft brushes against my leg and I glance down. A plump white cat with gray spots looks up at me.
“What the . . .”
It mews before working itself all along my ankles. Wiping away the tears, I chuckle, then crouch down to pet it. Unlike the random feral cats I’m used to seeing on the island, this kitty is crazy friendly. It stops and sits on the sand, letting me scratch its chin. Even through the ocean noise I can hear it purr. I’m smiling until the cat stands up and reveals a bloody stump that used to be its tail.
I scoop the plump cat up in my arms. The way it purrs even louder in my hold confirms that this little fur ball is probably a pet that’s been abandoned or lost. The one animal hospital in Paia is less than a mile up the street from this beach. In my car, I make it in less than two minutes. When I burst through the doors of the clinic cuddling the injured cat against my chest, the receptionist behind the front desk peers at me over the top of her glasses with a suspicious stare. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting a bikini-clad woman wrapped in a beach towel to walk into the office today.
“So sorry to bother you, but I found this cat on the beach with its tail mutilated. I think he belongs to someone. He’s so friendly.”
The cat’s purr echoes in the tiny space. The receptionist must hear it, because she glances at the cat, her expression softening. “Let me see what I can do.”
After twenty seconds of typing on her computer, she looks back up at me. “Looks like Dr. Choi has a bit of time between appointments. We can squeeze you in right now. Follow me.”
We make our way down the hall to an exam room at the end. A good two dozen framed photos of cats adorn the wal
ls of the room. I’m staring at a photo of kittens fast asleep in a basket of yarn when the receptionist tells me Dr. Choi will be by as soon as he’s done with an appointment. She shuts the door, and I set the cat on the exam table. Its green eyes dart around the room nervously. Chin scratches seem to soothe it though. It relaxes on the table, blinking slowly in appreciation of my pets. The door opens behind me and I turn around. When I see Callum decked out in blue scrubs, my eyes go wide.
“What the . . . You’re Dr. Choi?”
“What? No.”
“Then what . . . what in the world are you doing here?”
The shock of seeing him at a veterinary clinic rivals the shock of seeing him naked days ago. But it’s a different kind of shock. This sterile room is like a reset, taking us out of our usual environment of the beach and food trucks. It’s like we’re characters in a play, and instead of being nasty to each other like normal, we have to pretend to be civil.
He tugs at the hem of his scrub top. “I volunteer here a few mornings a week.”
“As a veterinarian?” I can’t hide my disbelief. If that’s the case, I hope he’s managed a better bedside manner than the lack of people skills he displays at his food truck.
His jaw tense, he sighs, as if he’s willing himself the patience to talk to me. “No. I assist the doctor with pets during exams. That sort of thing.”
“Oh.”
After that stilted exchange, he takes the two steps to stand on the other side of the exam table. When he reaches out to pet the cat, his hard expression softens. I loosen a bit on the inside too. It seems that Callum is definitely a cat person.
“Poor little bloke,” he says, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the cat’s bloody stump of a tail.
“I found him on Baldwin Beach. He just ran up to me.”
Callum turns to the computer and starts typing info into a spreadsheet. “Must not be stray, then, if it’s that friendly. A bit fleshy too. That’s a good sign.”
I chuckle and scratch the cat under its chin, which sends a loud purr echoing through the room.
Callum takes the cat’s weight before typing some more, then fishes a few treats from a nearby jar to give to the cat. I lean down to offer it a few reassuring pets. When I raise my gaze back up, Callum’s eyes dart from my bikini top back to the computer screen. Heat flashes across my chest. I suppose that’s fair. I did spend a solid three minutes staring at his naked body on the beach, after all.
He dispenses another treat. “That’s a good little love,” he croons, stroking the top of the cat’s head.
I’m almost dizzy at the gentle way he speaks. If he had used this tone on me the first day we met, I would have listened to anything he had to say.
The door opens, and in walks a fifty-something man with a thick head of black and gray hair.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this on such short notice,” I say.
Dr. Choi nods. “No problem at all. I have a soft spot for cats, as you can probably tell.” He gestures to the framed photos on the walls. “Looks like this little one’s tail got a bit mangled.”
I explain how the cat wandered up to me on the beach. Dr. Choi nods along while examining the injury.
“Well, this little one is lucky. The tail isn’t severed at all, actually. That must have been an earlier injury that’s been healed for a long while, fortunately. The bleeding is due to this nasty little cut at the end of it.” He points to an inch-long gash under the cat’s fur. “My guess is he probably got into it with another cat, maybe even a feral pig. They run wild in some spots here.”
Callum holds the cat while Dr. Choi runs a scanner along its body to check if he’s chipped.
“I’m not getting anything,” Dr. Choi says. “Definitely looks like he’s a runaway or abandoned by his family.”
He flips the cat over to check to see if it’s fixed.
“Oops!” Dr. Choi says. “Looks like this little guy is a gal.” He frowns as he presses against her gushy tummy. “And if I’m not mistaken, she’s pregnant.”
My jaw falls open at the same moment that Callum’s eyes go wide.
“Congrats!” Dr. Choi grins. “You’ve got a litter of fur babies on the way.”
Dr. Choi explains that the cat is likely a couple weeks along, then says that the injured tail will be an easy fix with some stitches. He instructs Callum to hold the cat while he administers a vaccination.
My eyes glaze over as I observe the doctor and Callum work in tandem. There’s no way I have enough money to pay for this appointment, let alone a slew of new pets. Anything more than zero dollars will send my tight budget into a tailspin.
I fall onto the nearby bench, speechless, as Dr. Choi takes the cat to a room in the back to stitch her. For a minute, I say nothing, processing the news that was just sprung on me.
“You all right?”
I glance up at Callum, the concern in his hazel eyes like a static shock to my system. I almost forgot about the kindness I spotted in them the day we met.
“This is . . . um . . .” I stammer another nonsensical sound.
He sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll take care of it.”
“What?”
“I’ll take care of the bill.”
I squint up at him. “But . . . why?”
He shrugs, turning back to the computer screen to type. “It’s nothing, really.”
My head spins. Why is he offering to cover this expense? It’s not like we’re friends.
“Last time I checked, vet visits cost money. That’s not nothing.”
He practically glares at the computer screen. “And?”
“And I just don’t get why—”
The door swings open, and Dr. Choi walks back in holding the cat, a plastic cone around her head. “Good as new!”
Setting the cat on the counter, he explains the post-suture care and cleaning routine. The cone is to prevent her from licking her stitches. Callum swipes a cardboard cat carrier from under the counter and places the cat inside. I’m still speechless, unable to say a word after soaking in his offer to pay for the bill I just racked up.
“You’re good to go!” Dr. Choi says. “Just check out with Brenda at reception, and she’ll help you get the bill sorted.”
“I’ll show her out.” Callum swipes the carrier from the counter and opens the door.
He marches in the direction of the reception desk with such long strides that I have to almost jog to keep up. I grip the towel at my hip to keep it in place.
“Hey!” I say in a shrill whisper to keep from making a scene. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
But he continues without a word, fishing his wallet out of his pocket when the receptionist smiles up at him.
“I’ve got this,” I say quickly.
“No.”
He doesn’t even look at me when he speaks. When Brenda the receptionist swipes his card from his hand and runs it through the card reader, I know I’ve lost. It’s the most confusing, deflated feeling I’ve ever experienced. Yes, what he did was generous. But I don’t understand why. Why in the world would he want to help me, the person he’s supposed to destroy?
Brenda hands Callum a receipt, which he pockets.
She smiles as the cat presses her face against the carrier. “Did you decide on a name for this cutie-pie?”
I blurt the first word that comes to mind. “Lemon.”
“Lemon?” Callum says, clearly confused.
Brenda chuckles sweetly. “Oh, that’s just precious.”
I thank her, grab the carrier, and move to the sitting area by the entrance. Callum follows me.
“I’ll write you a check later. To pay you back,” I mutter while fiddling with the handle of the carrier.
“Not necessary.” He sighs, like he’s annoyed at my presence, eve
n though he’s the one who decided to stand next to me. This guy is impossible to decode.
“Oh, it’s necessary.” I remind myself to rein in my irritated tone.
We’re technically in a public place, and we need to maintain some degree of civility. Every time I fail to get 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.
