Page 36 of The Science of Attraction

I stared at my phone, which had once again fallen silent, and noted the two voicemails waiting. I considered not responding until I got home, but it wasn’t as if anything was going to change in a few hours. I walked to the top of the flood embankment and looked out across the glistening river. Liam’s easy stride caught my attention as he made his way to where Brent was packing up his tackle box. My stomach swooped at the sight of him, remembering how he tasted, how his body fit so tightly against mine, and the strange, wondrous feel of his hard cock against my leg.

It made no sense.

Why him? Why now? What was it about Liam bloody Skelton that had me twisted in knots, craving something I’d never given too much consideration before? Had I wondered what sex with another man would be like? Of course I had. I ogled a hot guy as much as the next red-blooded bi man. But interest and curiosity had never been enough to risk the consequences of following through.

I knew there was noright wayto be bi. I could have an equal attraction to more than one gender, or I could have a preference. And even if I had a preference, that preference could change over time. I knew all of that. But my preference for women had always seemed like a lucky gift, considering my father’s homophobia.

At least it had until Liam had blown that preference to smithereens.

And I had no idea what to do about it.

As I continued to watch, Brent said something that made Liam laugh, and when Liam clapped Brent on the back, a ridiculous niggle of jealousy tugged at my chest.

I shook my head in self-disgust.You can’t have it both ways, arsehole.

I lifted my phone and blew out a sigh. After all, I liked Laura. And if I gave things a chance, maybe we could rekindle those stronger feelings we’d once shared. Maybe she was exactly the distraction I needed.

I pulled up her number and pressed call.

CHAPTERTEN

Jules

Lauraand I agreed to meet Saturday evening at Oakwood’s newest restaurant, The Barbecue Pit. Her verdict by the end of our main courses was a big thumbs-up.

She really was a beautiful woman. Dressed in light blue jeans, a billowy lemon floral top, and black pumps, she was just the right mix of country cute and city slick with the bonus of a clever mind and a quick, dry sense of humour.

We’d always gotten on well and the time spent over dinner proved no different. The evening had been the best not-quite-date I’d had in years—ever since Laura had left, if I was being honest. The conversation was easy. The laughter genuine. The company excellent.

And that was saying something considering I’d been up since three in the morning checking on a small mob of our top performing ewes as they started to lamb. With the potential for a dusting of snow in the forecast, we were taking no chances.

“That barbecue was as good as I’ve had anywhere, including Texas.” Laura ran a napkin over her lips and dropped it to her plate with a small burp and a contented sigh. “Say no more.”

I couldn’t help but laugh and she eyed me quizzically. “What?”

“I’d forgotten how much I missed your ladylike manners,” I teased. “Some things never change.”

“I should hope not.” She patted her belly. “Fuck being polite. A burp from a satisfied stomach is the best compliment you can give a chef.”

Roz, the owner, paused on his way past our table. “She’s right. And mopping up the sauce with your bread comes a close second. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Laura says it’s as good as anything she ate in Texas,” I passed the compliment on.

“Maybe better,” Laura qualified, and Roz beamed.

“Why thank you, mam,” he affected a passable Texan drawl. “That earns you a free dessert. Murch—” He waved one of his staff over. “Give these two any dessert off the menu, although I personally recommend the caramel souffle. Murchison has a particularly soft touch when it comes to delicate creations.”

Murchison’s cheeks pinked. “Only if you don’t mind a bit of a wait? I make them to order.”

Laura clapped her hands. “Yes, please. How about you?” The question was directed at me.

“I’ll just steal a taste from yours.”

“We’ll see about that.” She grinned and turned back to Murch. “Let’s see what you can do. No pressure.”

Murch laughed and headed back into the kitchen.

“Thanks, Roz.” I smiled at the slim blond man with model-sharp cheekbones and the ofttimes equally sharp tongue.

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