Page 97 of Burn for You

I burn for you.

It’s exactly what it feels like to be around him. The way that every part of my body singes with his touch. He warms me up from the inside out. He always has, whether I’m burning with rage or with desire.

I lean back and use one hand to pull his face down to mine. I kiss him firmly, but with affection, before pressing my forehead to his. “I burn for you too.”

chapter thirty-four

RAFAEL

“I don’t knowif I trust you with a blowtorch.”

“Why not?” Nico asks, bringing the torch up so the flame is right in front of his face. “I’m a professional.” And then he blows on the flame like an idiot.

I try so hard to keep my smile in, but I can't. And it makes me wonder why I feel like I need to.

I’ve always felt like I needed to keep my emotions under lock and key, like maybe I don't deserve to be happy, to smile after everything that I've lost. But in the last few months I've realized I have a lot to be happy for, and that maybe it’s okay, that I am allowed to move on.

This kid in front of me has a lot to answer for in that department. His infectious personality drags a smile out of me every time I see him. But so does the fiery blonde who I can still taste on my tongue.

“The deconstructed lemon meringue pie is actually one of my nonna’s favorite recipes.”

Nico tilts his head. “Why isn't it on the menu?”

I think about it as we move over to the anti-griddle. “I'm not sure. So many of her other recipes are on there for everyone to enjoy. I think maybe I just wanted to keep this one for myself.”

Nico nods, but his brows are furrowed. “Then why are you showing me?”

The question throws me. I don’t know exactly why I am showing Nico. Up until now we haven’t done much one-on-one training, but I decided since the restaurant is still closed that we may as well take advantage of the empty kitchen and work at a pace where I can teach him without the pressure of the dinner rush on my shoulders, and it feels good.

I haven't had the urge to teach anyone anything since nonna died, feeling stuck and shackled to running the day to day of Olive&Vine. And I'd never want to give it up, but doing this with Nico makes me think I can have the best of both worlds. Maybe I don't have to choose teaching or this restaurant, maybe I can integrate them together. Teach kids like Nico everything, from the basics of running a restaurant to how to make a deconstructed lemon meringue pie.

“Someone has to teach you blowtorch safety.”

He just snorts. “Alright then, teach me.”

We move over to the prep table. “Okay, get your filling in there,” I say, bringing out a bowl for him to assemble the dessert in. My insides smile as I think about the way that May would appreciate this bowl. It’s not boring like my mugs. It’s unsymmetrical, and part of a set Nonna got from a local potter years ago where every piece is unique. It would make May happy.

It’s been a couple of nights since we saw each other at the bar, and since, well…everything.And even though I was so upset with her, so angry at the way things came out, I wouldn't change it. This is us—fire and passion and everything else that we are. I don’t want anything else but her, and now I have her, she’s in. I'm still grappling to believe it.

“What?” Nico's voice pulls me back to the present.

“What?”

“Why are you smiling at the bowl?”

I shake my head. “I wasn't, was I?”

“You were.”

He just eyeballs me while I try to find a way to explain. “Just start assembling, would you?”

He snorts once more, ignoring my change in tone. His eyes turn concentrated as he uses the piping bag to evenly distribute a small amount of the sour lemon filling into the base of the bowl.

“Perfect,” I say. “Now time for the meringue.”

Nico grabs the bowl of whipped meringue we prepared earlier and spreads it over the top.

“Not too much,” I say.

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