Page 52 of The Science of Attraction

She slid her hand free and shrugged. “Most days. But you know it’s always worse in winter.”

I did. Zach and I had watched our mother struggle with rheumatoid arthritis for most of our lives. It was the one thing we couldn’t fault our father on, and one of the reasons he was such a confusing man. Whenever Mum went through one of her bad patches, Dad doted on her—there was no other word for it. He might not be any good in the kitchen but he did his best, waiting on her hand and foot. For a man who barely knew how to butter his toast on his own, go figure.

“You need anything from town?”

She shook her head. “Zach’s already picked up my new script. Said he’ll drop it off on his way back from Wild Run. There’re no tourist trips today, so Luke’s planned a secret picnic somewhere.”

Zach. Coming to the station. Damn. I tugged the collar of my Swanndri tighter around my neck and sighed.

My eagle-eyed brother was a wrinkle in my day I could do without.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Jules

We’re here.

I read Liam’s text and looked behind to find him waving from the driver’s window of the Mercedes, parked in front of the south pasture gate.

I waved back and called out to Stuart who was crouched close to a ewe in the throes of a difficult lambing. “You stay with her,” I instructed. “I won’t be long.”

Stuart glanced toward the gate and gave me a thumbs-up.

I scooped up the lamb I’d been checking, wrapped it in a towel, and jumped on my quad. Hopper landed on the tray and leaned his head over my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. “Not this time, mate. You’ll scare her.”

He gave me the huntaway equivalent of a pout, all wrinkled brows and doe eyes, and stuck his head through my other elbow where at least the lamb couldn’t see him.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” I patted his furrowed brow and eased the quad forward over the uneven ground, slow enough for the lamb’s mother to follow, which she did.

By the time I got to the gate, Liam had my father out of the car and seated in a collapsible chair, and Chip was running free. Hopper leaped off the quad and the two dogs ran circles around each other before Chip settled at my father’s feet and Hopper moved on to Liam.

From his position squatting next to Hopper, Liam caught my eye. “It’s been a slow morning.” His gaze flicked sideways to my father and back. “But we got here.”

I recognised his careful wording as code for Dad having suffered another episode of confusion, which meant they’d all had a tough morning. Just the day before, he’d asked me why the shearing gang was late this year. It had taken me twenty minutes to convince him they’d already been and gone, and only after I took him out to see the shorn ewes in the paddock closest to the house.

I held the lamb out for my father to inspect, and whilehechecked out its confirmation with a deft hand and shrewd eyes,Ichecked out Liam who was standing behind him.

He looked gorgeous, as usual, those bright hazel eyes sending my pulse racing with memories of the night before. And like he could read my mind, Liam smirked and licked his lips, and then the fucker blew me a kiss.

I nearly fell over, my cheeks blowing hot. Damn Irish genes.

“Looks... good.” My father’s tired gaze lifted to mine. It wasn’t much as far as praise went, but he was obviously pleased and my heart stupidly swelled at the approval.

“Yeah, I thought so too.” I avoided looking at Liam so I didn’t inadvertently show my feelings. “We lost a couple two nights ago when the temperature dropped way past what was forecast, but other than that, we’re on track for a record year. This lamb is from one of those ewes that you put with Jacob’s ram. She feels heavy for her size. It’s going to be interesting tracking their growth over the next year. I’ll bring you all the stats this afternoon and you can take a look.”

My father nodded, took another look at the lamb, patted it almost tenderly, and waved it away.

“Can I have a hold before you let her go?” Liam looked about as excited as a kid in a donut shop.

“Sure.” I grinned and placed the wrapped bundle ever so gently into his arms.

He held it to his chest and made soft cooing noises while my father regarded him with a strange, amused smile.

“Oh my god, she’s so precious,” he marvelled. “And her fur is still damp. And what’s—” He looked up, horrified. “Is that her cord?”

“Wool, not fur,” I corrected gently, and his cheeks flushed pink. “And yes, she was born about an hour before you got here.”

“Perfect timing.” His clear delight and unaffected wonder slammed into my chest like a rush of hope.

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