Page 33 of The Science of Attraction

While Liam and I cleaned the fish, Brent set up the camp stove in our lunch spot by the river and ferried the cooking and eating paraphernalia over the embankment. Each time he returned to the ute and found us joking around, he cast a curious look my way like he couldn’t quite figure me orusout.

Well, get in line.

Brent knew that fishing was my sacred time and that I liked going with him because he was happy to go off and do his own thing. When Brent and I fished, we fished—that’s it. Talking was optional but not encouraged. We certainly didn’t chat or joke around. But as I ribbed Liam and laughed at the disgusted faces he pulled as he poked and prodded at his poor fish, I had to admit I was having a good time. Agreattime.

And it had almost nothing to do with the fishing and everything to do with the blond-haired beauty I was sharing the river with.

CHAPTERNINE

Jules

We cookedthe trout in nothing but butter and salt and pepper and then ate the fillets sandwiched between slices of fresh bread under a lukewarm spring sun with the river at our feet, laughing and chatting about nothing in particular. Even Brent joined in, surprising me by telling Liam about his family’s rafting business up north and promising to organise a trip for him anytime he wanted. Then, after we cleaned up, Brent headed back to his pool while Liam opted to read his book on the riverbank, and I took over Liam’s earlier casting spot to have another go at that recalcitrant trout.

I should’ve known better, and Liam watched on in amusement as I spent the next thirty fruitless minutes trying to snag the damn thing. He punctuated his reading with pithy comments about my casting style and general suggestions on how I might improve my chances until I finally lobbed a large stone into the shallows just in front of where he was sitting, dousing him in freezing water.

“What the hell?” He sprang to his feet, arms flailing, and the book went sailing backwards through the air to land on the tackle box. His gaze shot to mine and a sly smile broke over his lips. “So, that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” He wiped the river water from his face and slowly stalked toward me.

“Now just calm down.” I grinned and began backing up, but the river dropped away quickly and I was soon up to my stomach. “It’s an initiation ritual for first-timers. Everyone knows that. It would’ve been bad manners not to.”

“He’s lying,” Brent called from downriver. “And you’re scaring the fish.”

“Bad manners, huh?” Liam reached the shallows and scanned the riverbed for available ammunition.

“Aw, come on, it was a joke,” I teased, teetering on the edge of a drop off, which would send water tipping into my waders. “Don’t tell me you can’t take a joke.”

“Oh, I can take a joke,” he assured me, choosing one of the bigger stones that would’ve made a great cannonball. “And I’m going to find this one particularly funny.” He lobbed the stone toward the deep pool behind me and I watched it fly through the air as if in slow motion.

“Shit!” I lunged to the side but Liam had a great arm, and I had a snowball’s chance in hell of avoiding the splash zone. The stone landed about half a metre away, shooting an arc of ice-cold water straight up into my face and drenching me down to my waders.

“Oh. My. God.” I shook my head and water droplets sprayed everywhere. Brent let out a whoop of delight, and when I blinked my eyes open, I saw Liam almost doubled over with laughter.

I flipped Brent off, wiped the water from my eyes, and began hauling myself toward the bank. Too busy laughing, Liam missed my approach until it was almost too late. Then he took one look at my face, yelped, and began running for the ute, yelling over his shoulder. “Hey, it’s all part of that initiation ritual. First-timer’s revenge. Everyone knows that.”

I ditched my rod on the grass, scooped my empty coffee cup full of river water, and took off in hot pursuit—read: awkwardly squelching my way across the stones in my waders.

Liam checked over his shoulder, whooped and picked up speed, but I had the longer legs and possibly more determination. He hit the top of the flood bank and disappeared down the other side onto the dirt track, but I caught up with him about five metres from the ute.

“Not so fast, funny guy.” I made a grab for his arm, but he jerked it free, laughing.

“In your dreams, sunshine.” He sidestepped another of my attempts to grab hold but overbalanced and stumbled sideways into the tussock, going down in a mass of flailing limbs and peals of laughter.

I poured what was left of the icy water over his head, which only made him laugh louder, his hands shooting up to umbrella his face. Shaking my head, I sank to my knees and then sat back on my butt, the waders folding around me like a cheap rubber suit.

When he finally stopped laughing, Liam levered himself up on his elbows, took one look at me sitting there in my waders, and beamed. “I’m damn impressed you caught me wearing those.”

I snorted. “Me too. Then again, I had good incentive.”

His eyes locked with mine. “Is that right?”

And there we were again.

After a couple of beats of awkward silence, I scrambled to my feet and offered him my hand. He stared at it for a moment, then grasped it with his own and let me help him to his feet.

We stood just a few inches away from each other, out of sight of the river and hidden from Brent’s view. Just the two of us, the distant mountains, and a million miles of bluebird sky. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he pointedly glanced down. I followed his gaze andshit. I was still holding his hand, my thumb tracing slow circles on the back. I needed to let him go, but I didn’t, couldn’t, and his questioning gaze lifted back to mine.

He said nothing, just stood there, waiting, eyes wary.

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