“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t like what we’re doing here. Or maybe I’m just bored and want to stir the pot.” Callum’s gaze snags on mine, and the feel of it is so intense that I almost look away. “Or maybe,” he continues. “It’s because I don’t know how I’m going to tear down your favorite place in the world when I can barely stand the thought of you getting caught in the rain.” There’s a strange pang in my chest, one that hurts in the best kind of way. Green eyes, I decide. I like men with green eyes and men who look at me like that.
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