My thumb hovers over my phone screen as I hesitate. Every time we’ve met up since returning to Maui, it’s been in private with no one else around, at either his place or mine. To show up in public together could pose a risk. If some food blogger or customer saw us together and it got back to the Maui Food Festival organizers, they could think we’re together and we’d lose our shot at the prize money. No way is it worth the risk.

I text him my concern, and he answers right away.

I have our masks ready to go. We’ll be hidden in plain sight, promise. All you have to do is show up at my condo at 7. What do you say?

While I mull it all over, he texts again.

Come on, petal. It’ll be fun

The use of that nickname pushes me over the edge. I lean out the window to sneak a peek at him. He’s standing at the window of his food truck, his head buried in his phone. He looks up but is careful not to show any discernible happiness in his expression. The wink from before was risky enough in front of everyone.

Something extra dances behind his gaze the longer he looks at me. It’s a sneaky slyness that his hazel-green eyes hide well. I suspect I’m the only one to notice it, because not a single nearby customer pays us any attention. We’re indulging in our secret out in the open, yet no one even notices. Just his eyes on my eyes—it’s all I need.

Tearing my gaze from his, I turn back to my phone.

What color dress would go well with my mask?

Chapter 12

Whoa,” I mutter as Callum pulls his car into Paia.

It’s just after sundown when we arrive to the block party, and this normally sleepy beach town has morphed into a mini Rio de Janeiro during Carnival.

The entire main drag through town is closed to cars. During the day it’s a low-key tourist destination. People mostly pass by it on their way to drive the insanely popular road to Hana. Some stop to check out the restaurants and shops, and to take photos of the Old West–style buildings lining the main street, which are painted in an array of pastel colors. But tonight it’s overrun with a crowd of masked people jumping and gyrating to frenetic dance music.

We get lucky and take a street parking spot right as a car pulls out. Callum stares ahead at the rave-like celebration commencing in front of us.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, his eyes wide. His expression is what I imagine he would look like if he saw a fireball flash across the sky.

I nudge his shoulder. “This was your idea.”