Page 7 of The Miner's Miracle
“Just saving my hydrangeas from the brink of death,” I shoot back, glaring at the nozzle as if it’s personally responsible for my misery.
He takes a slow step closer, his boots crunching against the gravel. “It sounds like you’re trying to summon a flood.”
“You’re welcome to help,” I mutter, yanking the hose again. It kinks somewhere behind me, and I know if I don’t fix it fast, I’m going to lose my temper.
Finn doesn’t move. Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he just stands there, his infuriating gaze burning a hole into my back.
“You know,” he drawls, “it’s not rocket science. You twist the hose, unkink it, and voilà—water flows like magic.”
I grit my teeth and rise to my feet, turning to glare at him. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. Your assistance has been invaluable.”
He smirks, a slow, irritating curve of his lips that makes me want to both slap him and... well, do other things. Not that I’d ever admit it.
Before I can bite out another sarcastic retort, the hose finally jerks free. Water sprays out in a powerful stream—unfortunately, directly toward Finn.
“Oh, shit!” I yelp, scrambling to adjust the nozzle, but it’s too late.
The icy water hits him square in the chest, soaking his T-shirt and jeans. His jaw drops as he steps back, holding his hands out as if to fend off more of the assault.
“Are you kidding me?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
I’m frozen, clutching the hose like it’s a live wire, but then a laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. “I—oh no—I didn’t mean to?—”
Finn wipes his face with one hand, his expression a storm cloud of annoyance. “You think this is funny?”
“A little,” I admit, the corners of my lips twitching despite my best efforts.
His eyes narrow, but then his gaze shifts, sweeping over me with a slow intensity that makes my skin prickle. The light cottonof my sundress clings to me in places, damp from the overspray. His gaze lingers on my neckline, then dips lower.
“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, hisfingers 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.”
