I dispense a generous serving of crushed ice, ube, sweetened beans, coconut, and evaporated milk into a paper cup and hand it to her. She tastes a spoonful, closes her eyes, and moans. The “mmm” she lets slip sounds more like a growl than a hum. Leaning over the counter, she whispers in my ear, “Your boy toy is in the zone. I went over to wish him luck. The look on his face was intense.”

A high-pitched chuckle falls from her lips. All I can do is say, “Oh wow.”

She leans back, keeping her tone low. Tipping her spoon at me, she gives me a knowing smile. “I told him I was coming over to say hi to you, and he got all flustered. His cheeks got pink and everything. He’s so into you. It’s adorable.”

When I glance up above Penelope, I freeze. Callum stands front and center, just a few feet from me. I wasn’t expecting to see him at all today.

Penelope twists around to sneak a peek, then turns her megawatt smile back at me. “Looks like someone misses you.” She winks before walking into the crowd.

Callum approaches the counter, his hazel eyes on me, making me feel like the only person on the planet.

“Can we talk?” His face is a mess of worried lines.

“Is something wrong?” I manage to sound mostly composed.

I notice he hasn’t shaved since I’ve seen him. The scruff on his cheeks looks like the beginning of a beard. I don’t even like beards, but on him it is scrumptious.

He runs his tongue along the glorious thickness that is his bottom lip. “I need to tell you something.”

Leaning around him, I hand a waiting customer their order of wings.

“Can it wait?” I say, my eyes veering in every direction other than in front of me.

I’m not strong enough to tell him no when he’s standing so close, his body heat skimming my skin, his gaze making my knees go weak.

“No. I need to talk to you now.”

I glance around. No one else is at our truck right now, making this our first lull of the day. It also means no one is paying attention to our exchange, which I’m silently thankful for.

“Meet me behind my truck in a minute,” I say.

When we reconvene, we’re out of sight of the bustling crowds.

“What is it?”

He shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out the stick of ChapStick I usually keep in my purse. “You dropped this at my flat the other night.”

I swipe it from his palm and put it in my apron pocket and almost laugh, confused as to why he chose now of all times to give it back to me. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to give this to me today. You could have waited.”