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He rolls his eyes. “I’mhelping, not rescuing. You don’t need to turn down help. Let me grab my ladder.”

I watch him as he retrieves his ladder, definitely not focusing on the way the muscles in his lean arms contort under the weight.

When Anthony reaches me, he holds his hand out and hands me a small parcel. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“That’s for me?” My mouth waters at the brick of foil in his hand.

“Yeah. A vegetarian burrito. It’s got jackfruit or some shit in it.”

“Oh, thank you!” I cry, snatching it up and tearing the top open.

Anthony laughs as he places his ladder on the concrete floor. “Jonesy said food would soften the blow, but I didn’t think it’d make you this happy.”

I’m certain my eyes roll into the back of my head as I bite into the wrap, my tastebuds dancing with delight as the flavour hits my tongue. “Oh my god, thank you,” I moan. “You don’t happen to have a beer in that magical toolbox, do you?”

Anthony looks amused as he quirks an eyebrow, but he doesn’t answer me. “Where’s the shit you want off the walls?”

I wave lazily to the far wall. “I don’t know what they are, but they’re not moving.”

Anthony climbs his ladder with practised ease, his strong thighs and work boots holding him in place as he casually leans across to jimmy the light fixtures. “Yeah, they’re rusted on. I should be able to get them off though.”

“You think so?”

“I can get anything off.” Anthony doesn’t even look at me as he climbs down the ladder, grinning at his own joke.

“You never stop, do you?”

“Never.”

For the next fifteen minutes, I unashamedly sit in the camping chair, finishing my burrito and watching Anthony’s sinewy arms contract as he works his skills on the stubborn fixtures. He gets the rusted items off the walls with ease and wanders back to me when he’s finished.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asks, a smirk playing on his mouth.

I smile, unabashed. “Oh, yes. I’m sad it’s over.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Anthony’s growl elicits a shiver up the back of my neck that’s almost painful, like his words are fire against my flesh. He drops the items onto the desk and his expression glimmers from predatory to concerned in a matter of seconds.

“What’s this?”

I glance at the piece of paper under Anthony’s hand. “It’s nothing. Stupid kids playing pranks.”

Anthony frowns. “Doesn’t sound like a prank so much as a threat. Who are these kids?”

“I saw a few of them on their bikes laughing before you got here. They weren’t menacing in any way, only stupid teenagers picking on the hot new chick.” I throw him an exaggerated wink, but he doesn’t relent.

“Kali, you should report this.”

“Report that a bunch of teens are trying to scare me away after I took ownership of where they used to hang out and get high?” I offer. “I’m not worried. They’ll find somewhere else to shoot up.”

Anthony clenches his jaw and nods. “Yeah, they will.”

He tosses the paper out of his fingers and returns to his tools by the ladder. To my surprise he collects his items and collapses the ladder with a resounding crash, scooping down to wedge it under his arm, his toolbox in his hands.

“You’re leaving?” Unexpected disappointment floods through me.

“Yep. Night.” He marches past me without another word. I watch as he throws his items into the back of his truck carelessly, the bangs ricocheting into the night sky. He peels out of the carpark before I’ve even processed what happened.

What did I say?