Even though we’re standing in this restaurant walk-in refrigerator and the temperature is just a few degrees above freezing, the heat radiating from Callum’s body warms mine. He wags his eyebrow, slides his arms around my waist, and I break. My face splits into the most obnoxious grin before I press a kiss to his mouth. He trails his luscious lips down the side of my neck.

“Okay, okay.” The words fall from me in a breathy whimper. “Of course I remember you saying how important it is to label all of the produce in the walk-in. I just forgot.”

Closing my eyes, I dig my hands into his thickly muscled shoulders. It’s the only way I can keep myself steady against his mouth.

He runs his hands up my back, and underneath my tank top, leaving me with a gentle bite on the collarbone before leaning back to look at me.

“It’s all right, petal. We all make mistakes.”

I smack his shoulder in response to his playful admonition. And then he pulls me in for a kiss that’s even filthier and sloppier than before.

Seconds later, the door flies open.

“Fucking hell,” Finn groans.

Callum and I pull apart and turn to him, dual flustered grins on our faces.

Finn flashes an exasperated frown at us and rests his hands on his hips. His stance reminds me of a disappointed chaperone. It’s like we’re horny teenagers who got busted at the school dance by the principal.

“In the walk-in? Really? Do you know how unsanitary that is?”

Callum shakes his head. “Give us a bit more credit than that, Finn. All we did was kiss. We didn’t touch a thing.”

Finn holds his hand up. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

He grabs a tray of chopped veggies from the walk-in. Callum grabs a tray of sliced fish chunks and follows him out to the main prep area of the restaurant kitchen. I follow with containers of homemade tartar sauce and malt vinegar in hand.

“That’s the trade-off, Finn,” Callum says as he follows his brother out the back entrance of the restaurant to the Hungry Chaps food truck parked outside.

Finn climbs into the back of the truck, sets the tray of veggies on a shelf, and turns to grab the tray of fish from Callum and the sauces from me.

“You get to store and prep your food in our kitchen for free in exchange for seeing us snog every once in a while,” Callum says.

Finn lets out a disgusted moan, exaggerated in volume for dramatic effect.

“Sorry, Finn,” I say, fighting back a chuckle. “We’ll try not to make out in the walk-in from now on.”

He rolls his eyes in that boyish, good-natured way I’ve come to love so much. Finn is big on giving Callum and me a hard time for how lovey-dovey we are as a couple.