Page 71 of Neap & Spring

“Are they gone?”

I look up and see Callum standing in the kitchen doorway, his chef’s whites splattered now with various sauces and oils. His hair is sticking up like he’s been running his hands through it, and he looks so exhausted.

“They’re gone,” I confirm.

He walks over and drops into the chair next to me. The same chair he sat in during the meeting.

“Thanks for checking on me during dinner, by the way,” I say, a smirk dancing across my face. “I saw you come out.”

His ears go slightly pink. “I was just making sure everything was running smoothly.”

“Four times?”

“It was a busy service.”

“Uh huh.” I’m smiling now despite everything. “Frannie said you were glaring at Cameron.”

“I was not glaring.” He clears his throat and looks out the windows. “He was leaning in too close,” he mumbles more to himself.

“He was just being friendly.”

“He was flirting.”

“So I’ve been told.” I lean back in my chair, watching his face with a smirk. “Does it matter?”

Callum looks at me, his face carefully blank. Then he shakes his head. “No. It’s none of my business.”

But the way he says it makes it sound like maybe he wishes it was.

For a long moment, neither of us says anything.

Then Callum starts laughing, a quiet chuckle that builds slowly until his shoulders are shaking with it.

“What?” I ask, but I’m starting to laugh too.

“This is insane,” he says, gesturing at the papers spread across the table. “All of this. Them showing up with no warning. You putting together a presentation in ninety minutes. Me inviting them to stay for dinner like that was going to solve anything.”

“It kind of did though,” I point out. “They loved the food.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Brad literally said it was the best thing he’d eaten all year.”

“Brad probably strictly eats at airport restaurants.”

I laugh harder. “Okay, but Cameron took a picture of his dessert. And he posted it on Instagram!”

“Cameron’s probably eighteen years old. He posts everything on Instagram.”

“It still counts!”

Callum is still smiling, and God, it’s good to see. When was the last time I saw him smile like this? This smile takes over his whole face. His eyes crinkle at the corners. White teeth flash against the dark of his mustache. The mustache itself seems different when he smiles like this. It’s less serious and more roguish. Almost playful in a way that makes my knees forget how to work properly.

I wonder what it would feel like against my mouth. Against my skin. Against my —

No. Absolutely not. I shake my head slightly, trying to clear the thought.

I have to grip the edge of the table to stay upright.