Page 8 of The Miner's Miracle
“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.
I suck in a breath, my mind wandering to my sexy-as-sin neighbor-from-hell. Tessa. Sweet when she wants to be, infuriating the rest of the time. I’m still thinking of that kiss and debating if her little peace offering of eggs the other morning was genuine or a passive-aggressive jab at my rooster complaints. Either way, she’s a constant thorn in my side—a beautiful, maddening thorn. And the eggs were damn good—best I’ve ever tasted, I’ll give her that. Whatever she’s feeding them chickens, they’re happy, I’ll give her that.
