Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(21)

The front of his white T-shirt was streaked with dirt and his biceps strained against the hem of the short sleeves. His skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat.

He was wearing an old baseball cap, one I recognized from a decade ago. Its bright blue brim was frayed because whenever Finn took it off, he rolled it up and shoved it into the back pocket of work pants like the ones he was wearing now. They were tan except for the permanent smudges of dirt and grass on the knees and thighs.

I’d probably washed those pants a hundred times, but they seemed to fit Finn better with each wash. The curve of his perfect butt had imprinted on those pants. The canvas had been molded around his thick thighs.

A flush crept up my cheeks as I remembered all the times I’d stripped those pants from his body before joining him in the shower. A dull throb settled between my legs. I fought the urge to fan my face, taking a few deep breaths and chastising my traitorous body for such a reaction.

I mentally chastised Finn too. The sexy jerk. I’d gotten along quite well these last six years satisfying myself. At least I’d thought so. But then he’d reminded my body how it felt to have a decent orgasm.

How long was it going to take me to forget about that too?

“Dad.” Kali reached him first.

“Hey, beautiful.” He grinned, setting the wheelbarrow down to push up the black sunglasses from his face. Then he shucked off his leather gloves and bent to kiss her cheek before giving Max a high five.

“What are you doing?” Max asked, inspecting the empty wheelbarrow. “Can I help?”

Finn chuckled. “Sure. But you have to change out of your school clothes.”

Without another word, both kids sprinted for the house. Max tore off his T-shirt as he ran.

“Hi.” I waved and crossed the yard. “Did I miss a mention of you coming over again?”

“No. We said Monday. But then I got stuck on an idea.” He spun his baseball hat backward, probably because he knew it would make me go weak in the knees and instantly forgive him for the massive hole in the front of my yard.

My brain caught up to my eyes. There is a massive hole in the front of my yard.

I’d been so distracted by Finn, I hadn’t noticed the ruin that had once been the landscaped border that separated my yard from Gavin’s.

I took a step closer to the wreckage. The hole was in the same place where a large bunch of Indian grass had been when I’d driven away this morning. Not only was the ornamental grass gone, but a long section of the curbing had been ripped out too. The landscaping bark that I’d spent hours replenishing this spring had been carted away.

“What. Is. Happening?”

Finn planted his hands on his hips. “This lawn is a fucking pain in the ass to mow.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m fixing it.”

“Say that again?”

He picked up the wheelbarrow’s handles and wheeled it over to where he was working. “I know I should have asked you first. I’m sorry. I came over to look around a bit, one thing led to another, and I got carried away.”

“You think?”

“Here’s what I’m planning. I’m going to rip all of this out, grade it flat and seed it with grass. Then you won’t have to use the edger over here at all.” He turned and pointed to the opposite corner of the yard next to the driveway. “I’m going to leave that bed as it is, but I’m going to redo the edging into a wider curve so the mower can hit all of the grass. Same with the beds along the porch. What do you think?”

“What do I think? I, uh . . . okay?” It came out as a question. On the one hand, I hated mowing this yard. The prospect of not having to use my edger gave me nearly as much joy as one of the orgasms I’d had last night. But on the other hand, this was my yard. “You should have asked.”

“You’re right. I should have. If you want it all put back to how it was, I’ll do it right now.”

Did I really want that Indian grass? Not even a little bit. “No, it’s fine.”

“We can walk through the plans for the backyard too, but I wanted to start with the front. I can guarantee it’ll get done in short order. The back might have to wait a bit. All my crews are slotted into my schedule for the summer and it’s slammed.”

“It’s fine. If the front is easier to mow, that’s good enough. Keep your crews where they’re scheduled.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I can’t send a crew out, but I’ll make time to do it myself. I’ll probably have the front done in a couple weeks. I need to draw up a couple of ideas for the back, and I can get you a timeline on that.”

Timeline. That word was always paired with another: budget.

“I can’t afford a huge landscaping bill right now.”

He frowned. “I’m not charging you. This yard is a pain in the ass because I was too busy experimenting to make it functional.”

My jaw dropped. Who was this man and where had the real Finn Alcott gone? “Are you being serious? You’re really fixing my yard?”

“I’d like the chance to try.”

Before I could agree, the front door to the house burst open and the kids came rushing down the porch steps.

Max was wearing the garden gloves Finn had bought him last summer. He clapped his hands together twice as he smiled. “Okay. Where do I start?”