He holds me up as I thrash against him, refusing to let himself break until I’ve gotten mine. When I come down, his body tenses, his jaw bulges, and his eyes go hazy. But somehow he’s still got me. His muscled arms shroud me like a warm blanket. Under them, I’m safe. Under him, everything is perfect.

We hug each other as we fall over into a lying position on the couch. Our breathing shallow, we take a second to reposition ourselves. He’s the big spoon like always, and I’m tucked tightly against him. It’s my favorite position to fall asleep in. I stretch against him, my eyelids heavy with each blink. I let them close for real this time, the soft lull of Callum’s breath above me soothing me like a lullaby.

From behind me, he leans his mouth to my ear. “I have to tell you something.”

“Mmm?” is all I can manage from my drowsy haze.

“Nikki, I . . .”

Before he can finish, I’m sound asleep.

Chapter 18

Every time I look up, it’s the same sight. A sea of food trucks at the Maui Food Festival. Usually from this spot in downtown Lahaina, you get a clear view of the harbor dotted with dozens of boats, but not today.

I retie my apron while scanning the crowd. It’s wall-to-wall people, and it’s barely noon. After just two hours, it’s packed to the max. Today there are a million food trucks and booths set up side by side, as far as the eye can see. People saunter at a snail’s pace from eatery to eatery because walking at a normal speed when it’s this crowded is out of the question.

I relish the nonstop workflow though. It’s the only way to distract myself from my last mind-blowing night with Callum. Since then, we’ve been so busy with festival prep that we could barely find the time to text each other, let alone see each other in person.

I force the focus back to the chaos in front of me. I can’t think about Callum or how much I’d rather be in bed with him than sweating my skin off and cooking for every stranger that passes by. Our last night together was just that: one night. Today is what matters.

Today we find out if Tiva’s Filipina Kusina keeps our coveted spot on Makena Road, or if we have to scramble to find someplace new. I’m sweating like a sinner in church. God bless this black tank top and its ability to hide all the dampness leaching from my pores.

Even breaths and swallows help me keep my composure. All I can manage are nods, polite smiles, and pleasantries whenever I take cash or hand out food, nothing more.

Behind me, Mom fries endless orders of lumpia and chicken adobo wings.