Page 72 of The Science of Attraction

When dinner finally hit the table, we had a few beers under our belts and we ate until we were stuffed. Local venison grilled to perfection under Gil’s eagle eye, jacket potatoes, an amazing salad also from Gil, and sticky toffee pudding for dessert care of Luke using his ex-husband’s recipe.

All afternoon Jules and I had been treated as if we were boyfriends, and damn if it didn’t feel nice. But the two of us had yet to really talk seriously about what was happening between us, and we needed to. Time was running out. Almost two weeks into whatever this was, and Jules was in my bed every night. Worse still, I wanted him there for reasons that had nothing to do with sex. Well, not exclusivelyto do with sex, at least. I plain and simple liked the man. An adjective that felt worryingly insufficient. Boundaries were being crossed and that rabbit hole just kept getting deeper.

We left the dishes on the table and carried our food comas outside to the firepit to kick back in comfort under a starlit sky. Never mind that the temperature had dropped into blue-ball territory, Zach loaded more wood onto the fire and threw everyone a blanket. We wrapped them tightly around our bodies until we looked like six woollen condoms and talked and laughed in the fashion you did when you’d had too much drink and even the silliest comment seemed uproariously hilarious while the craggy faces of the Southern Alps watched down with almost tangible disapproval.

At one point, Zach left to go inside only to reappear seconds later with Jules’ guitar in hand. I expected Jules to try and squirm his way out of playing, but he’d had just enough to drink to give in graciously and throw his blanket aside.

And I’d been listening to him ever since, charmed by the timeworn image of an almost cowboy playing his guitar by an open fire under a velvet sky. But clichéd or not, chord by chord, crooning lyric by crooning lyric, soft look by soft look, Jules Lane was burrowing deeper and deeper under my skin, and it was too late to do anything except stand aside and watch him turn my world upside down, along with my heart.

He glanced my way, his frown smoothing at my reassuring smile, but the devastating tenderness in his eyes broke me open.

I tried not to care. I tried to fight it. I tried to remind myself that the only guarantee on offer was that anything between us beyond my stay on Lane Station, was going to be hard, maybe even too hard to survive.

But none of that mattered.

Because when I looked at Jules, all I felt was a deep and burgeoning sense of coming home.

Jules caught my eye, blew me a kiss, and the last of my walls crumbled. Slick city boy meets quiet shepherd, and the rest is history. Straight out of a romance novel.

I took a long swallow of beer, stretched my legs and crossed my ankles, and let the fire work its magic. Regardless of what the future held, that night Jules belonged to me. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Zach’s face appeared at my shoulder, his voice low. “Didn’t I tell you? He’s good, right?”

I considered Jules for a second, and realised I had no words for exactly how good he was, and not just his music. With a guitar on his lap, the words to “Georgia On My Mind” on his lips—Ray Charles eat your heart out—this was a Jules I’d caught glimpses of during the last month. A Jules set free of the demands on his time and the pressure of the station and his father. It was the same Jules who slid between my sheets and offered me his body. And it was a Jules I wanted to see a whole lot more of, maybe even grow old with.

“Yes, he’s really good.” The rasp in my voice had Zach watching me for a long minute before he finally squeezed my shoulder and let himself be pulled back into Luke’s arms.

Beside them sat Holden and Gil, their eyes closed. Holden’s arm hung around his boyfriend’s shoulders, holding him against his chest, his lips in Gil’s hair as Gil hummed along with the song.

I liked these men. They were good people.

I liked one of them a whole lot more than was good for me.

And I truly, truly loved this country.

The mountains and the rivers and even the bitter cold of those mornings when the frost hung heavy in the trees and the whole valley was filled with a white whispering ice. I’d seen my first hoar frost just three days before, late in the season but no less spectacular. I’d opened the front door, the beauty of it stealing the air from my lungs, my heart pattering in my chest like a schoolboy with a crush. I was in my running gear in record time, loping down the road with the freezing air cracking in my lungs, taking a million mental snapshots so I wouldn’t forget.

Ahead in the south pasture, I’d caught the shouts of Jules and the others working, the drone of their quads humming over the crystalline landscape. I’d come to a stop, leaning on the fence to watch them check the new lambs, their bodies lost to coats and scarves and woolly hats and gloves, their breath steaming in the glittering air, the dogs running excitedly over the crunchy tussock.

Jules, fresh from my bed just an hour before, waving madly at me. Me waving back like the idiot I was, like we did it every day, like I belonged there. Wishing it was my cottage he’d be returning to, walking in the front door not the back, trying for a quick make-out session before we both went on with our days. Stupid fantasy bullshit that wasn’t worthy of my time but it didn’t stop me wanting it all the same.

There was a sudden change in Jules’ tone as “Georgia On My Mind” gave way to a pointedly piss-taking version of “All My Exes Live in Texas.” Zach threw his empty beer can at Jules who ducked in time for it to go sailing over his head. Everyone laughed, and when Jules looked my way, his smile lit up my ridiculous heart. I returned the kiss he’d blown me earlier, pulled the blanket up under my chin, and lifted my face to the night sky, my mind drifting with the rich-bodied sound of his voice.

I imagined it in my ear as he lay draped over my shoulder with his dick up my arse and hoped he’d be on board with the plans I had for tonight. Until then, the Mackenzie was the best show in town—a canopy of stars with a full moon lighting up the hummocky tussock as far as the eye could see. And all around the valley a breathless still sitting softly upon the landscape, broken only by the chuckle of the river and Jules’ lyrical voice.

About as romantic and magical as you could want.

When the song came to an end, Zach pushed to his feet. “Right. Come on, you lot. It’s already eleven, and six is a crowd. Let’s leave these two to enjoy the rest of their night.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all evening.” Jules stood his guitar beside his chair and got to his feet. After a round of hugs and more ribbing, along with instructions for the coffee maker and a drunken warning from Luke to leave their sex toys alone, Jules slid an arm around my waist and we walked the four men to Holden’s ute.

“We’ll be back for breakfast around seven, so be ready. If I see any naked bodies, there’ll be trouble,” Zach warned, giving a wave out the open window as the ute pulled onto the station drive. “And don’t do anything we wouldn’t,” he shouted as the ute kicked up dust and headed for the homestead, leaving a trail of laughter in its wake.

“Come on.” Jules pulled me back toward the fire where he spread a blanket on the ground, threw a couple of cushions on top, and kicked off his boots.

I watched him make himself comfortable and rubbed my arms. “You do realise there’s a perfectly good warm house about ten metres away.”

“But inside doesn’t have all this.” He waved an arm over the sky and then patted the blanket. “So, get your arse down here.”

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