Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“You should be more careful with that thing,” he mutters, his voice suddenly rougher. “You’re making a mess of yourself…you’re all…wet, sunshine.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I drop the hose, shaking out my hands as if that will somehow fix the situation. “I didn’t mean to spray you. It’s the hose—it’s defective.”
He raises an eyebrow. “The hose is defective?”
“Yes,” I say firmly, crossing my arms. “And if you’d been standing in your own yard instead of lurking like some kind of garden inspector, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Finn steps closer, and the summer air between us feels heavier, thicker. He smells like cedar and sweat, and the damp fabric of his shirt clings to his broad chest, outlining muscles I’m trying very hard not to notice.
“I was minding my own business until you turned your backyard into a waterpark,” he growls, his voice quieter now but no less sharp.
“Well,” I retort, stepping back but stumbling slightly in the loose dirt, “maybe you should mind it harder.”
His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile, but his gaze is steady, pinning me in place. “Harder, hmm? You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“Yeah?” I counter, planting my hands on my hips. “Well, you’re—”
“Hot?” he interrupts, his smirk back in full force.
I blink, caught off guard, and for a second, I lose all ability to think of a comeback.
“I was going to say impossible,” I finally manage, my voice more breathless than I’d like.
Finn takes another step, closing the distance between us. He reaches out, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face, his fingers rough and calloused. The gesture is gentle, unexpected, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
“You’re not very good at staying mad,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing my cheek.
I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’m mad now.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” he says, his voice dropping.
The air feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm, and I can’t decide if I want to push him away or pull him closer. My heart pounds as his eyes flicker to my lips, and I realize with a jolt that he’s leaning in.
“Finn,” I start, but my voice comes out shaky.
“Hmm?” His hand moves to the back of my neck, his touch firm but not demanding.
“This... this doesn’t mean I’m forgiving you for Shep destroying my tulips,” I blurt, the words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to keep my composure.
Finn chuckles, low and rough, and the sound does something to me—something I’m not ready to admit.
“Noted,” he says, his lips curving into a crooked grin.
And then he kisses me.
It’s not gentle or tentative. It’s a collision, a spark igniting a flame I didn’t know was there. His mouth is warm, demanding, and I can taste the salt of his sweat and the faint trace of beer on his breath. I gasp against him, and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss, his hands tightening on me like he’s afraid I’ll pull away.
But I don’t.
Instead, I find myself gripping his soaked shirt, pulling him closer even as my mind screams at me to stop. This is Finn—the grumpy, insufferable man who’s made my life a living hell since I moved here. But right now, none of that matters.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads touching as we stare at each other in stunned silence.
“Well,” Finn says after a moment, his voice rough, “that was unexpected.”
“Yeah…” I whisper, my hands still clutching his shirt.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re trouble, Sunshine.”
“And you’re... wet,” I shoot back, my voice shakier than I’d like.
His lips twitch again, and this time, he doesn’t fight the smile. “Guess we’re even then.”
“Hardly,” I mutter, stepping back and crossing my arms to regain some semblance of control.
Finn watches me for a beat longer, his gaze softer now, almost amused. “I’ll let you get back to your flowers,” he says, turning to walk away.
But before he goes, he glances over his shoulder, his smirk firmly in place. “And Tessa?”
“What?”
“Next time you want to get me wet, just ask.”
I gape at him, speechless, as he strolls back to his yard, Shep trotting happily behind him.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, shaking my head and turning back to my flowerbeds.
But even as I kneel in the dirt, pretending to focus on my hydrangeas, I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. Damn him and his stupid smirk. Damn him for making my heart race.
And damn him for making me want more.
Chapter Six
Finn
The sky over Devil’s Peak is painted in dusky hues by the time I park my truck outside The Devil’s Brew. The low hum of chatter filters out through the wooden doors, and I pause, gripping the wheel like it might steady me. This whole mail-order bride thing? It’s got me feeling like an idiot. But an idiot who can admit he’s lonely enough to try.