Page 26 of The Science of Attraction

Dammit.Trust my father to undermine me. I bit back a blistering response and settled for, “I wish you hadn’t gone behind my back, Marty. Right now, I’m running the place, and I’m not happy about you carrying a gun. It’s too dangerous.”

Marty’s gaze narrowed in anger. “I’m not dead yet, son. I’ve been hunting for almost twice as long as you’ve been alive. And it’s still your father’s station, even if you are managing ittemporarily. Now, come on. I can’t believe you’re letting this thing get the better of you.”

I let loose a weighty sigh. With my father backing Marty, there wasn’t much I could do to stop the old man other than warn people to keep an eye on him.

I drew a deep breath and pushed hard against the woolshed wall, praying to the concrete gods that the damn trough would just move already.

And it did.

Almost there. Just a couple more centimetres.

I repositioned my feet and tried again.

“That’s it!” Marty started up the tractor again. “I can move it from there.”

But the trough was still rolling, ever so slowly, but enough to leave me suddenly without purchase, my feet slipping down the wall until?—

“Ow!” Pain sliced through my calf, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground with my leg still up in the air, my jeans hooked on a jagged edge of corrugated iron siding.

“Fuck!” I tugged at my jeans, but the leg was caught fast.

“Julian! Don’t move.” Marty killed the tractor’s motor and scrambled down to help. But before he could get to me, the weight of my leg pulled the sharp iron edge through the hem of my jeans and my leg fell free to the ground, blood streaming in rivulets down my calf and into my boot. A lot of blood.

“Fuck!” I reached for my leg, but Marty got there first.

“Let me see.” He probed the wound and winced. “It’s a neat little slice. Long but shallow. You’ll survive.”

“Oh, well that’s all right then,” I grumbled. “Maybe I’ll just get a neat little dose of tetanus.”

Marty rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re up to date with your shots, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “I’m overwhelmed by your concern, by the way—ow, Jesus, what the hell?” I jerked my leg out of his grasp.

He shrugged. “Just checking there isn’t any metal or shit inside.”

“Yeah, well, thanks, Florence, but I think I’ll take it from here.”

He sat back on his heels. “You’re gonna need antibiotics.”

“I know,” I muttered, gingerly investigating the four- to five-centimetre gash that felt a lot worse than it looked. “But there has to be something in that pharmacy of a bathroom cupboard we have without me needing to go into town. I’ll call the doc and see what he says. If you can give me a lift back to the house, I’ll get Mum to clean it up.”

“Yes, sir.” Marty saluted.

“Jesus Christ. Everyone’s a comedian.”

* * *

“Sit still, will you?” Liam ran the antiseptic-soaked pad over the wound and I let fly another string of curses.

“You’re enjoying this.” I glared back at him, ruing my bad luck because, of course my mother was off at a rural community meeting in Oakwood and there’d been no one but Liam to step into the breach. On the bright side, Marty skedaddled the minute Liam walked in and my father took one look at my leg, declared the injury nothing but a scratch, and disappeared back to his afternoon nap.

Which left me and Liam and an ambulance-worthy arsenal of first aid equipment that the station kept on hand just in case Armageddon struck. To be fair, he was doing a good job, although when I found out what school he’d learned his bedside manner from, I was going to tank their Yelp reviews.

“I’ll bet you don’t treat my father so cavalierly,” I griped, hissing as Liam took another swipe along the wound. “Fucking hell that stings. What is it? Sulphuric acid?”

Liam regarded me through some of the longest lashes I’d ever seen and shook his head despairingly. “Boiled water. You do realise I’m going to have to ditch that tough manly image I’ve been nurturing about all you high-country men. Underneath the strong silent bullshit you all like to cultivate, you’re actually a bunch of babies.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I refuse to respond to such a blatantly erroneous statement.”

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