He sighs and fixates on the headrest in front of him. Then he whips his phone out and spends several seconds swiping before leaning over to show me. In an instant, warmth coats my arm closest to him. That’s some powerful body heat he possesses if I can feel it despite the inches of space between us. I swallow to collect myself and look at the screen.

It’s the selfie I took at the farmer’s market with Penelope, the adorably enthusiastic fan of our food truck. Underneath our smiling faces is a caption: Just met the amazing Nikki from @Tivas and OMG what an absolute doll! Can’t wait to see her and her mom smash the competition at the #MauiFoodFestival! You’re going down, @HungryChaps! Muahaha!!

A devil smiley face ends the caption.

Callum rubs his forehead with his free hand. “I saw that right before I spotted you at the market.” He runs a thumb across his cheek and chin, which are covered in thick golden stubble. “I thought you had something to do with her posting that. And then when you smiled and waved at me, it felt like you were mocking me. That’s why I didn’t acknowledge you.”

“Oh.” The realization takes a second to soak in. “I thought she just wanted a selfie. I didn’t know she was going to post that.”

“So all that was a misunderstanding,” he says. He lets out a half groan, half exhale before pressing back into his seat.

“Looks like it.”

We say nothing for a solid minute.

He coughs, then clears his throat. “I’m sorry for the way I made you feel at the vet’s office. And with your car. I don’t . . . I was truly just trying to help you. I didn’t mean anything disrespectful when I told you to keep your money. When I help someone, I never, ever accept money when they offer it. I always tell them to keep it, that it’s better off with them than with me because all I want to do is help.”

With his clarification, the residual anger burns away like clouds dissipating after a storm.

“Huh.” It comes out like a bewildered huff of breath. “I thought you were taking a swipe at me because of my financial situation.”

He squints at me. “Your financial situation?”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend, Callum. From the state of my car and my food truck, it’s obvious money has been a bit of a struggle.” When I look back up at him, his hazel eyes are bright with concern. My resolve starts to soften. “I mean, it’s not as bad now. We’re not rolling in the dough, but ever since this unofficial competition started, business is picking up. I guess everybody wants to eat at our trucks just to see if we’ll go off on each other. Crazy, huh?”