While he started to answer right away, he backed off, his expression one of consternation. “Well, hell. You’re right. I don’t.”
That took the wind out of my sails.
“You weren’t paying attention to where you were going. You could have killed me or yourself. Instead, you destroyed property. What in the hell were you doing here anyway? This is a private street.”
“I was paying attention,” he insisted, yanking off his sunglasses and wiping water from his face. I guess he didn’t want to be recognized because when he did, he turned away from me, shoving the shades back onto his face as quickly as he’d removed them.
“Oh, you were, huh?”
“Yeah, a cat ran out in front of me.” His insistence was almost hysterical. He even threw his arms around toward the road as if the kitty cat would be standing there flipping him off as he or she meowed.
“Funny. I don’t see a kitty.” Maybe my bratty side was just continuing from earlier in the day, which was why I didn’t stop myself when I acted as if I had claws, swiping the air and hissing like a cat.
“I thought it was there. I didn’t want to run it over.”
“So you didn’t mind running me over instead.”
“Well, given the way you responded with the lethal weapon in your hand, maybe I should have.” I’d be damned if he didn’t grin.
The man was as infuriating as his scent was intoxicating. Why in the world did I find this dangerous stranger so attractive?
Well, maybe he was only dangerous to my flowers, but still. “This little thing?” I asked, peppering him with a spray of water once again.
This time, he tried to protect himself, ducking but unable to miss my direct aim. “Stop it. Just stop it! I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t mean to crush your tiny flowers.”
“Tiny?” That was enough to goad my anger all over again, but I snapped off the nozzle. The asshole was now trying to get under my skin and I sensed he was enjoying the hell out of himself. “I’ll show you tiny, buddy. Get off my flowers.”
He took a decided step and given the puddle of mud he was now standing in, he slipped. I watched in amusement as he twisted and turned, pitching forward and backward until falling with a brutal thud on his ass.
Unable to help myself, I burst into laughter.
Sometime later I might tell myself that laughing at his predicament wasn’t the nice thing to do, but at the moment, laughter just came easily.
So much so I wasn’t paying any attention to the fact he’d managed to struggle to his feet and in two long strides was standing right in front of me. Before I even had time to gasp, he had one hand on the hose, yanking me off my feet by wrapping his other arm around me.
“What are you doing?” My shrill cry was still full of amusement as he wrestled with me, trying his best to jerk the hose from my hand. His laugh was as dark and evil as the deed he was attempting.
To return the favor in soaking me. I could feel that in my bones.
Water went everywhere, the nozzle on full blast.
He laughed.
I groaned.
He snorted.
I hissed.
His sunglasses flew off before mine, but I wasn’t given a decent look at his face. Not that it mattered. I was too busy trying to best him in our aggressive competition.
I might be a drowned rat, but he was a weasel, the scruff on his face a direct correlation.
While I might not look it given what some called my frailty, I’d always been competitive and ice skating had just been the tip of the iceberg.
No pun intended of course.
I fought him with everything I had, managing to pitch him back by several feet. We stood staring at each other like prize fighters, finally circling each other. The grin on his face was one I wanted to wipe off.
