Chapter 5

Chapter Five

T essa

The evening sun is low in the sky, relentless, and still blazing. My garden hose has been sputtering for the past twenty minutes, and if I don’t get this water flowing smoothly, my flowerbeds are going to stage a mutiny. Kneeling in the soft dirt, I tug at the spigot handle and curse under my breath. It’s only then I hear the low rumble of his voice.

“What the hell is going on over there?”

I whip my head around, and there he is—the grumpiest man alive, standing on the edge of his yard with his arms crossed and a scowl set deep into his stupidly handsome face. His broad shoulders are tense, his dark hair glinting in the sunlight, and Shep is happily wagging his tail beside him, entirely unbothered by his owner’s perpetual grouchiness.

“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 cotton of 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, 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.