Page 15 of The Science of Attraction

“Let me see.”

And before I knew it, Jules was getting up close and personal, inspecting my nose with a surprisingly gentle touch while I tried and failed to avoid staring up into those light grey eyes and wondering how the fuck I got myself into these messes.

“Doesn’t look broken,” he concluded, stepping away so I could breathe again.

“Yeah, I’d figured that out for myself,” I said, maybe a little too bluntly, but the man was seriously messing with my brain. In my experience, straight men just didn’t do that shit, right?

If Jules noticed my discomfort, he didn’t react. “Is there more I should know about what happened?” He glanced over my shoulder to where Paddy sat at the classing table. “I hope he hasn’t been behaving badly.”

I blew out a long sigh. “Okay, I admit we might’ve had a little come-to-Jesus moment after... this.” I gently tapped the side of my nose. “He’s been a bit reticent about me touching him, so I gave him the choice of getting over it and letting me work the way I needed to, or I’d simply wave sayonara as I drove away.”

Jules’ eyebrows hit his hairline and all the ligaments in his neck corded in a way that made me want to sink my teeth into them. “Goddammit!” He glared over my shoulder at his father. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Forget it,” I soothed, absently resting a hand on his forearm. It was only meant to reassure, but the heat of his skin made my belly swoop. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”Unlike you, apparently.

Jules’ gaze shot to mine, like he’d felt something too, and for a few seconds, neither of us said a word. A few seconds when all those questions I had about him on that first day returned like bees to the hive, making my skin itch with questions I had no right even thinking about.

“Tennyson was right,” Jules said, far too softly. “Itisa nice tattoo.” His gaze dropped to my forearm.

I instantly let go of his arm and took another step back, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep them out of trouble. “Thanks. But getting back to your father, please don’t worry. Based on what you told me about his views, it was an unavoidable conversation at some point. Let’s just say we’ve reached an understanding.”

He studied me for a moment, then grinned broadly. “I do believe my father might’ve met his match in you.”

I returned his grin because I was an idiot like that. “Yeah, it’s been said before.”

“Liam?”

I turned to find Paddy motioning me over, the strain of the outing clearly evident around his eyes. “I need to get him back to the house,” I told Jules. “It’s been a big morning for both of us. Thanks for getting that ramp done so quickly, by the way.”

“My pleasure. Not too steep?”

I waggled my hand. “Maybe a little, but we managed.”

He frowned and glanced toward the door leading outside. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe lift the lower end and add an extra section to reduce the incline. Leave it with me. I want to make things as easy as I can for you.”

I almost rolled my eyes and pointed out that he was very muchnotmaking things easy for me in any way, shape, or form. Then again, it wasn’t really his fault. I was doing just fine finding my way along that road all on my own.

CHAPTERFOUR

Jules

We’d driventhe last of the shorn mob to the south pasture and the nippy breeze on my flushed skin was slowly bringing me back to life. I latched the gate and headed the quad back toward the big house with Hopper, and Dad’s dog Chip balanced on the carrier mat behind.

I’d had Hopper from a pup. Zach and I had trained him together. When Zach left the station to live on Miller land, Hopper felt like the closest thing to my brother I had left on a day-to-day basis. Some days, he still did.

As if he’d read my mind, Hopper’s chin rested on my right shoulder, his doggy breath hot against my ear. In contrast, Chip remained focussed on the gravel road unravelling behind us, keeping an eye on our six just in case a random merino might have any designs on catching a lift.

I loved the energy of shearing time, the racket in the shed, the arrival of the shearing gang with its faces old and new, and a chance to see the end result of all our aspirations coming off the backs of the mob in clouds of brown and cream. The station’s future hung on the quality of the fleeces. They were its lifeblood. But the crowded woolshed was an oven to work in, and it had been a crazy busy couple of weeks.

Not doing the shearing ourselves didn’t mean we sat twiddling our thumbs. Having the entire mob passing through the yards offered an opportunity for multi-tasking that couldn’t be ignored, and we worked around the shearers to check off vet inspections, parasite control, drenching, and so on. And with lambing season barrelling up fast, we needed to check the pregnant ewes and split them into smaller mobs based on their birthing histories. First-timers, those we had any concerns about, and our prize performers were kept close to the shed. The reliable old hands were sent down to the south pasture.

Most years, the station team celebrated the end of shearing with the gang by hosting a huge cookout, but this year the gang was booked end to end with their next contract starting the day after they finished ours so they were leaving early. To compensate, I added a sizeable bonus to our agreed terms and donated a small pub’s worth of beer for them to take with them, both of which were greeted with huge smiles.

As I drew closer to the big house, Liam’s cottage came into view just off to the left. My stomach lurched as I once again debated the idiocy of what I was about to do. To be fair, the idiocy part wasn’t the problem. The debate was about why I seemed hell-bent on doing it anyway. And the answer to that was embarrassingly simple, and currently busy doing something on the deck outside his front door.

I blinked and looked again. What the hell was Liam up to? Puzzling over our new resident was hardly a novel concept. My brain had spent five days carving itself a lightning-fast shortcut to the subject at hand while managing to bypass common sense and self-preservation. No need for unnecessary detours, right?

In short, it had taken no time at all for the sexy man to burrow under my skin and itch away, shooting all my good intentions up the shower wall. I’d found enough reasons to drop by the house that my mother was starting to look sideways at me, and my usual five-minute snatch-and-go visits to the kitchen had turned into leisurely twenty-minute chat sessions if I happened to run into Liam. Tennyson had even asked if I was feeling okay.

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