Page 78 of Burn for You

Her eyes finally meet mine. “So what? We just rip shit and bust into it?”

My brows pull together at her, but I smile. “I guess so. How do you feel about sledgehammers?”

“I love them. Never used one in my life, but I have a feeling I’ll be a natural.”

I have no doubt.

“You better get a hard hat.” She flicks the cap I’m wearing slung backwards on my head. “Cause this isn’t going to do much against any falling debris.”

“It’s not so much the debris I’m worried about,” I smirk. “More like my little spitfire running round with a sledgehammer.”

Her cheeks flush pink, but she can’t help the way her lip tugs up at the corner. Instead of answering, she just swivels my hat around on my head. “We better get to work then, chef.”

That game didn’t last very long. I’m back to wanting her with every single cell in my body. But that’s not what she wants, and I’ve got enough self-respect to leave it at that. For now, anyway.

I trudge outside to get the sledgehammer that sits in the bed of my truck. As I’m about to walk back inside, I spot a spare cap lying on my backseat, and I reach for it. May might not think it’ll help much, but it’s better than nothing.

When I walk back inside, she’s standing in the middle of the dining room with the sledgehammer that was in the supply cupboard along with a hammer and some screwdrivers, just in case of any work that needed to be done.

She’s moved all the tables out of the line of fire, giving us space to work in, and enough space to make a good mess.

“Hey,” I say, catching her attention. She swivels around to face me, leaning all of her weight on the sledgehammer she’s holding in one hand, while the other lands on her hip. She looks like some cute little Bob the Builder right now, and it’s making me want to bend her over one of these tables and see just how much of a mess we can make then.

When I reach her, she turns around and picks up two pairs of safety glasses off the table behind her.

“Where did you find those?”

She shrugs. “In a box labeled safety equipment.”

I raise my brows. Turns out my nonna was prepared for anything.

“Well, I have something to finish the look,” I say before I place my spare cap on her blonde head. Backwards.

“Wow, this will provide me with so much protection, thank you so much,” she mocks, but I don’t even care, not when she looks so fucking adorable with her blonde hair peeking out from the bottom of the baseball cap.

She looks all too ready to go to town with that sledgehammer, her grin devilish. “You terrify me,” I say.

She grabs one of the pairs of glasses and awkwardly shoves them over my eyes before she puts on a pair of her own and nods. “I know.”

She thinks I’m joking, talking about her with the sledgehammer in hand, and maybe a small part of me is, but an evenbigger part, the largest part of me is truly scared of her. Scared of how quickly she’s become the one person I want to spend all of my time with. Scared of how easily I’ve given up attempting to keep myself at a distance from her in favor of being in her presence. Whether we are pretending that we hate each other or not.

I shake my head as I face the wall, ridding myself of those thoughts, and then I swing my sledgehammer into the wall. I smile as I pull it back and see the hole it left. Part of me should feel nervous about what I’m doing, wondering what the hell I’m doing busting a hole through my restaurant, but I just feel exhilarated.

May lands a blow to the wall with a grunt. I’d never say it to her, but I’m surprised she can lift that thing. She pulls it back haphazardly before she throws it back into the wall.

I join her, swinging the hammer into the wall again and again until it starts to fall apart. We smash hole after hole into the wall, tearing down my nonna’s restaurant and hole by hole, turning it into my own. This feels like the first step towards something new, towards building something of my own.

I don’t stop until my arm starts to ache, until May’s grunts from beside me sound less like grunts of effort, and more like anger. More like frustration, and pain with every piece of board she sends flying to the ground. I stop swinging and look over at her, but she hasn’t noticed I’ve stopped, doesn’t notice as I take a step towards her, doesn’t fall out of her trance until I’m standing behind her and lightly grab a hold of her arm that’s relentlessly throwing the hammer against the wall.

She flinches when I touch her and I immediately throw my hands up, hoping she doesn’t swing it at me. It’s then that I see the tears leaking down underneath her safety glasses.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She scoffs a laugh. “Don’t act like you care.” Her grip is tight on the handle of her sledgehammer, like if she lets go, she might fall apart.

“I’m not acting.” And with each syllable I realize it’s the truth.I care about her, and more than someone I’m just sleeping with. May makes me feel less alone. She makes me feel like I'm exactly where I need to be, in a world where I've spent so long feeling lost.

“You only want another round; you’ll only care as long as it’s my body on offer.”

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