Page 34 of The Geography of Happiness

The powerful urge to do just that had shocked me to the core.

When it came to my turn, I’d been reprimanded about not putting enough fun in my day, and Spencer had laughed himself silly when I tried to convince him that balancing the hardware store’s accountsdidcount as fun in my books, especially when I got it right. He swore to show me the error of my ways in a voice that promised a whole lot more than I thought I was ready for.

He’d told me how soft my lips were and I’d told him I liked his cologne. He said that I tasted like honey and I told him it wasManuka from my morning toast and that the antibiotic qualities would kill any germs he’d introduced.

We both laughed.

He told me about living in small-town Oakwood and I told him about Painted Bay and the hellish tourist season. He told me about Matt and the station guys who he counted as his best friends, and I told him about Kane and Abe, Leroy and Fox, and Morgan and Judah.

He talked more about his parents and brothers, and I told him about growing up in my brother’s shadow—Mister Perfect, an adventure superhero, and a business savant, all rolled up in one very nice man. It was challenging to live in the same house, especially when I got Amber pregnant at the ripe old age of sixteen, while Kelvin had been travelling the continent climbing Everest and K7 or K9 or whatever it’s called.

Spencer had commiserated.

He’d told me he wanted to spend time with me again.

I’d said I wasn’t sure. The man was messing with my head, and not just that. In two days, Spencer had thrown a spanner in my life, and I was asking questions about myself that I’d never asked before. And for a guy who generally struggled to feel...things...romanticthings,sexualthings, without needing to live in the other person’s pocket for about fifty million years, Spencer had me spinning in circles in just a few days and I was losing my mind, not to mention googling every possible sexual identity on the planet, trying to understand it.

Who was I? I didn’t know anymore. Spencer had flipped so much of what I thought I knew about myself on its head, which to be fair wasn’t much to begin with. I simply didn’t get it. I wasn’t that moony guy. Never had been. Not even with Hannah’s mother. The only person I’d ever daydreamed about was Judah and look where that got me. Nowhere in a hurry. And this thingbetween Spencer and me had about as much chance of having legs as that. Which meant no chance at all. So, there was that.

But every time I decided to take the sensible route and call it a day, tell Spencer that we needed to stop the chit-chat and flirting, that I wasn’t ready for any of it, I’d remember that kiss and... oh lordy. For a guy who rarely ever felt any serious sexual craving for more—more skin, more lips, more... everything—it was hella hard to just walk away, no matter the risk to my heart.

And there was serious fucking risk.

And guilt. As stupid as it was, I felt guilty for wanting Spencer when Judah didn’t even know about me. And a part of me even felt like I was betraying him or maybe betraying my old feelings for him. I didn’t understand how I could have these strong feelings for Spencer so quickly when Judah had taken me months. I’d always thought he’d been the one who got away. I wasn’t so sure anymore, and I didn’t know whether to be happy about that or whether to question everything I thought I’d felt for him. Had I got things wrong? And did that mean I couldn’t trust these new feelings either?

None of it made sense.

I stepped into the light of the bathroom and Hannah’s hand flew to her chest. “Dad! You scared the sh—heck out of me. What are you doing?”

“Strange as it is—” I crossed to the vanity and grabbed my electric toothbrush, studiously ignoring my reflection, which told a sad story of sleep deprivation. “—I’ve heard that removing your clothesbeforeyou take a shower does tend to guarantee a more satisfying experience.”

Hannah snorted. “We’re intraining, Dad.”

“Oh.” I added toothpaste to the brush, popped it into my mouth, and talked around the buzz. “I wondered what that noise was.”

“You’resonot funny.” She bopped me on the bicep. “Zach gave me a bunch of commands to practise, but Gabby’s picking it up so fast I’m gonna have to get more. Did you see her get the towel back onto the rail when it dropped?”

“I did,” I spluttered, wiping a run of toothpaste from my chin. “She’s a smart cookie.”

“I’ll do it again.” Hannah freed herself from her dog and instructed Gabby to sit.

The retriever obeyed.

“Away.”

Gabby walked to the door where she turned and waited.

“Nothing new there,” I observed.

“Dad.” Hannah rolled her eyes.

“Sorry.” I zipped my mouth.

Hannah refocused on Gabby. “Pass the towel.”

Gabby made a beeline for the towel, hanging awkwardly from the heated rail where she’d left it, and tugged it free. She dragged it over to Hannah who took it from her mouth andaccidentallydropped it to the floor.

“Pass the towel,” Hannah repeated.

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