Page 20 of Written with Love

The majority of comments had been people asking if he would open the place up to tourists after they were done with renovations, something he was thinking about deeply. After all, he wanted to keep the history of the building alive and to share it with others.

He’d changed into his work clothes—worn jeans, a flannel shirt over a T-shirt, and work boots. He looked ever the part of the construction worker. The only difference between him and the crew outside was that they knew what they were doing.

Rolling his shoulders, he surveyed the kitchen and wondered where to begin.

“Ready to do this?” he asked as he turned to Juliette, who was already holding up the camera, recording him. “Are you getting my good side?” he joked.

She smirked, tilting her head. “That depends. Which side is your good side?”

He pointed at himself with the sledgehammer. “All of them.”

Juliette snorted but kept filming as he took a solid stance in front of the first set of cabinets. “Alright, first strike, let’s make it cinematic,” she teased. “Give the people what they want.”

He chuckled. “You mean raw, untamed strength?” He lifted the sledgehammer dramatically, flexing a little more than necessary.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. “I mean, those followers are here for the… construction progress.” She aimed the camera at his biceps.

He rolled his eyes, unable to hide his grin, and swung the hammer, smashing into the cabinet door with a loud crack. Wood splintered, and Juliette let out an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh no,” she teased. “I was going to sell those on Marketplace.”

Max barked out a laugh. “Right. And how much were you gonna list these fine relics for?” He kicked at the broken cabinet door, and it collapsed into pieces.

“Priceless,” she said with mock seriousness. “An authentic, weathered, nearly hundred-year-old cabinet, touched by the hands of every lighthouse keeper.”

He leaned on the sledgehammer, looking at her. “Oh, so now I’m a lighthouse keeper?”

“Well, what else do you call someone who lives in a lighthouse?”

Max thought for a second, then shrugged. “A handsome, rugged, slightly wounded contractor?” He motioned to his bruised forehead.

Juliette chuckled. “Yes, yes, that too.”

She shifted the camera just as he took another powerful swing, shattering a cabinet into pieces. “Okay, that was actually impressive,” she admitted. “Let me get a slow-mo shot of you doing that to the next one.”

Max smirked. “You just want more footage of my muscles.”

“I do not!” she said, but the way she bit her lip and angled the camera slightly lower made him chuckle.

Deciding to give her something worth filming, he ripped off his flannel, leaving just his white T-shirt underneath. Besides, he’d already worked up a sweat. “Ready?” he asked, flexing just a little. When she nodded that she was ready, he took another swing.

Juliette let out a laugh behind the camera. “Max, if you flex any harder, this is going to turn into a thirst trap instead of a renovation video.”

“Gotta keep engagement up,” he teased as he continued to work.

They worked together for the next hour, knocking out cabinets, prying up stubborn old countertops, and dodging flying debris. At one point, Juliette attempted to take a swing with the hammer, but it was almost as heavy as she was. Max stood behind her, guiding her hands, his chest brushing against her back.

“Okay, steady, now swing,” he murmured.

She did—sending the hammer straight through the plaster wall instead of the cabinet. Dust rained down, and they both froze.

Juliette turned, eyes wide. “That… was not a cabinet.”

Max blinked at the hole, then back at her, before bursting into laughter. “No, no it was not.”

Juliette gasped, smacking his arm. “You’re laughing at my destruction?”

He grinned down at her. “Babe, this whole thing is about destruction.”

She groaned, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Okay, fair. But you’re patching that.”

“Palmer’s guys will patch it.” He looped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “We’ll call it a happy accident,” he murmured, their noses almost touching.

Her breath hitched, her eyes flicking to his lips.

The moment stretched between them—then suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the kitchen. They both jumped as one of the remaining upper cabinets gave out and hit the floor with a splintering thud.

Juliette clutched his arm. “Well, that was ominous.”

Max sighed. “Maybe the house is jealous.”

She laughed. “Or maybe it’s just telling you it’s past time for this remodel.”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Then let’s give it what it wants.”

She grinned and lifted her camera again. “Round two?”

Max swung the hammer onto his shoulder and winked at her. “Let’s do this.