An hour into our truce, my eyes are blurry from trying to make out the words on the page in front of me. Somehow just being this physically close to Callum has affected my ability to read. The text in this book may as well be Wingdings for as much sense as it makes in my distracted state.

I give up and shove the book back in my purse. I contemplate shelling out the money to pay for Wi-Fi on this flight so I can mindlessly surf the web just to distract myself, but I decide the expense isn’t worth it. I scan through the free movies on the screen in front of me, but nothing catches my interest. And I don’t think I could even begin to focus with Callum next to me.

Turning slightly against the headrest, I sneak a peek at him. He’s staring at the screen of his phone, earbuds in his ears. What kind of music does this hot young curmudgeon like to listen to?

A different flight attendant walks by, eyeing him like a porterhouse steak. I roll my eyes, even though I sympathize with her appraisal. Jet-setting Callum is quite the eye candy in straight-cut trousers and a snug long-sleeve T-shirt the exact same shade as his hazel eyes. When she offers us drinks from her cart, I decline. Callum asks for ginger ale, but the smitten flight attendant says in an overly sweet tone that they’re out.

“Can I get you anything else? Sprite? Coffee? Pepsi?”

“No, thank you.” He focuses back on his phone.

She tucks her light brown hair behind her ears and leans closer toward him. “You sure?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Not even water? I’d hate for you to go thirsty.”

Good Lord. Only one of us is thirsty, and it’s definitely not either of the people currently seated.

“Um, Sprite is fine. Thanks.”

She leans her hand on the seat in front of him. “I absolutely adore your accent,” she says through a giggle.

His cheeks catch fire. “Oh. Thank you.”

“I could listen to you talk all day.” She grins, pours him a drink, then points to the call light. “Don’t hesitate to flag me down if you need anything else.”

She stares at him two seconds too long before finally walking on and helping the passengers behind us.

I can’t contain the scoff that escapes my lips when I gaze out the window.

“Something funny?” Callum asks.

I turn to him. “Just amused at how obvious she was being with you.”

“Glad my discomfort is funny to you.”

His scowl lingers on me for one long second. Then it falls back to his phone.

That lethal look. That same dismissive glare he flashed me during the farmer’s market when I dared to smile and wave at him. When I mistakenly thought we could be decent to each other for just one moment.