Page 109 of The Science of Attraction

Where the hell am I?But even before the question fully formed in my head, the memories started flashing behind my eyes.

The blow up in the kitchen.

Dad’s face.

The woolshed.

Marty.

The gun.

My eyes ripped open.

Holy fuck.

“I was shot.” I almost started at the sound of my own voice.

“Yes, indeed you were.” A smiling face crept into focus. “And good afternoon to you too, Jules.”

Bradley Dalton—the name finally came to me. But I’d have known that bleached semi-mohawk anywhere, not to mention the snarky dry-witted humour. I’d skied with the man more than a few times. Well, tried to keep up with him, was more accurate. Bradley was a ninja on the snow and had almost made the winter Olympics, or so I’d heard.

“I was wondering when my scintillating conversation would finally lure you back. I was beginning to think I’d lost my mojo.” Bradley’s brows knitted in concentration. “Now, hold still while I finish sewing you up. You’ve got yourself a nasty little wound.”

“Ouch!” I yelped as something snagged in my shoulder.

“Sorry.” Bradley smiled, looking a little less than contrite.

I managed a growling, “Fuck you,” which only widened his smile.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like crap.”

“To be expected. You’re lucky your brother and boyfriend were just outside when it happened. They got to you in seconds.” He made another pass with the needle. “Subclavian veins don’t take too kindly to bullets nicking their edges. They’re fussy like that.”

“Boyfriend,” I murmured, happy that Liam had introduced himself that way.

Bradley grinned. “They still call them that, right? Although I have to admit,youwith a boyfriend came as kind of a surprise.” He waggled his sleek eyebrows at me. “I suppose he’s kind of cute, if you like your cute with a glare that could melt glass and Wolverine-level protective instincts. My balls are in danger if I mess this up, apparently. Still, it’s past time I practiced my vascular intervention skills, so thank you for the opportunity.”

“Not funny,” I grumbled.

“Now you’re just lying.” He tied off the suture and stepped aside for Shona to clean and dress the wound.

I lifted my head to take a look and nearly blacked out. “Holy fuck. That hurts.”

“Yeah.” Bradley patted my good arm. “Did I forget to mention the broken collarbone? It was a two-for-one deal.”

“Fucking comedian,” I muttered, counting to ten before I risked moving my rib cage to breathe again.

Bradley set about washing his hands. “And since we’re doing the full-disclosure bit, FYI, you have a second lot of sutures on your back where the nice bullet exited. It’s a lot more impressive than this side, so be careful, just saying.”

I shifted my shoulder experimentally and yelped... again. “Jesus, can I have something better for the pain than whatever it is you’ve been giving me? Because it’s not working.”

Bradley grabbed a chart from the table. “I’ll up the dose. I couldn’t give you too much until you came to properly. Hippocratic oath and all that.”

I somehow managed to roll my eyes, but even that hurt.

And Bradley grinned... because of course he fucking did. But then his expression grew serious. “All right. Here’s the deal. You’ve been snoozing on and off since you got here a couple of hours ago. We didn’t know whether it was the blood loss or the whack to your head when you hit the woolshed floor, but I was pretty damn worried that first thirty minutes. We hit you with a load of fluids, some blood, and a truckload of antibiotics. The X-rays and scans are good, and you’ve bounced back nicely. Do you remember exactly what happened?”

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