Page 89 of Burn for You

“How would you help, anyway?”

Her eyebrows pull together at the implication that she couldn’t do anything here. “I know my way around a nail gun.” She folds her arms over her chest.

“Oh, yeah?” She nods. “How about a sanding block?”

Her frown deepens. “That too.”

“Good. There are a few bits that need light sanding. The machine will be too rough.”

“See, I’d justloveto help, but what about my top?” she asks, attempting to get out of it.

“You can wear mine.” Her eyes go from smug to surprised.

“What about me, boss?” Nico pipes up.

I walk over to him, slinging an arm over his shoulder, and begin walking him to the door. “Take the rest of the day off. You deserve it.”

“Oh, uh…are you sure?” he stutters. “I can stay, I mean?—”

“I insist. Take some rest.”

His voice turns to a whisper. “I’d really love to speak to the pretty lady a bit more?—”

I turn him to face me. “The only person that will be speaking to the pretty lady is me.” I pull the door open and all but push him through it. “See you tomorrow!” I yell behind him.

When I turn back around, May has her head on a tilt. “You didn’t need to do that,” she says.

“I don’t need him wasting time staring at you instead of working.”

She smirks. “You’ve got that covered all by yourself, don’t you?”

I can’t read her. Can’t tell what she’s thinking, or what her intentions are of being here. Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take any time with her. I just need to keep my impulses under control.

I grab my shirt from the table where I discarded it earlier and stalk over to her. I tug on the hem of her sweater that’s tucked into her jeans and yank it off her head, leaving her in nothing but her jeans and a pretty lace bra.

What was I just saying about impulses?

“Would you rather he be here for this?” I say, my voice low as I speak into her ear.She doesn’t reply, her chest just heaves in front of me. “That’s what I thought.”

I toss her sweater on a clean table on the other side of the restaurant. “Here,” I say as I pull my shirt over her head.

“Thanks,” she mutters as she fiddles with the hem that’s fallen past her waistline.She looks adorable swimming in the shirt that’s a little small for me. “It suits you.”

She looks up at me. “Put me to work, boss.”

After five minutes of being here, May decided it was too quiet—even with the electric sander on—and that we needed some music to ‘lighten the vibe’ so now every time I turn the sander off, I’m subjected to Taylor Swift singing through the speakers of May’s phone.

I take my safety glasses off and look over to where she was previously sitting on the floor sanding the wall. Except now she’s just sitting on the floor, leaning her head on the new wall with her eyes closed.

I put my sander down and walk over to her, sliding down the wall until I’m sitting next to her.

“Hey,” she says without opening her eyes.

“Hey.”

The song that’s playing isn’t exactly lightening the vibe, unless the vibe she was going for was melancholy.

Maybe it’s the song, or maybe it’s the fact that May’s eyes are closed, but I ask the question I’ve been wanting to ask since she opened up to me the last time we were here. “What happened?”

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