Page 49 of The Geography of Happiness

I rolled my eyes but returned his smile, my stomach wobbling at the reminder that I interested him. “Yeah, maybe. But how about you keep your eyes on the road?”

“Spoilsport.”

But he did as I said, letting me study him for a moment as he drove, this tall man with his easy boyish charm. A man who’d appeared in my life from nowhere and who I knew very little about. Strike that. I knew more about him than I wanted to admit. Maybe not nuts-and-bolts stuff, but I knew a lot about who he was and what made him that way.

I considered the smooth line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips, and that thick, short stubble lit with glints of silver begging to be touched. I remembered the coarse feel of it under my fingers, and the jolt of interest that rolled through my body shocked me.

Spencer was an easy man to like. A lot of people did, apparently. And a lot ofthosehad been through his bed. He was the kind of man a cautious person like me could trust with their secrets, but for a novice heart like mine, he was as dangerous as a rattlesnake.

I dragged my attention back to the road and the blur of rolling tussock as we barrelled closer to Lane Station. The threatening bank of grey cloud hanging over the western ridgeline was edging ever closer, promising rain at any moment.

“I hope Hannah packed her coat,” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt at the realisation I hadn’t thought of her in hours.

Spencer leaned forward to peer up at the sky. He grimaced. “Damn. It wasn’t supposed to reach us till evening, but that’s the Mackenzie for you. When the weather rolls in from the Tasman Sea, more often than not it gets a kick in the pants from an Antarctic southerly. If we’re lucky, it’ll hold off until we’re done. But I’m sure Zach will have Hannah covered. That man is nothing if not prepared.”

I hoped Spencer was right. Slick ground and elbow crutches were a recipe for disaster, especially if Hannah was trying to manage Gabby at the same time.

We fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the hum of the tyres on the gravel road. By the time we’d passed Lane homestead and pulled up outside the woolshed, it was one o’clock, and fat droplets of rain were breaking on the windscreen.

“Shit.” Spencer squinted up at the sky. “I hope Jules has them under cover. You’ll find an oilskin on the back seat, andyou better put those spare gumboots on too.” Spencer threw open his door and the front half of a large huntaway landed in his lap.

“Jesus, Hopper, you big lug.” Spencer rubbed the dog’s ears affectionately before shoving him back out of the cab and brushing the mud from his jeans. “Damn animal.”

Someone slapped the roof of the ute, sending my heart all a patter, and a handsome face appeared next to Spencer’s. Jules, I presumed.

“Spencer, my man. I was beginning to think you’d never get here.” He caught sight of me and smiled. “And who do we have here?”

“Jules Lane, meet Terry O’Connor,” Spencer said. “Terry’s daughter and her service dog are working with Zach this week, so I thought I’d bring him along for the ride. Meet the weird locals. That kind of thing.”

Jules directed an arched brow at Spencer. “How very civic minded of you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but said nothing, and Jules reached across his chest to shake my hand with a firm grip, his palm rough from station work. “Nice to meet you, Terry. I hope we can relieve any boredom from hanging around with this idiot.”

I snorted. “You read my mind.”

Jules laughed. “I think I’m going to like you.”

Spencer shook his head. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Come on.” Jules hurried us out of the ute. “Let’s get out of this rain. I moved them into the covered yards just for you.”

“I think I might love you,” Spencer joked as he climbed out of the ute and the two men ran to the tailgate to grab Spencer’s gear. While they did that, I reached into the back seat and retrieved the coveralls, oilskin, and gumboots before hightailing it up the ramp toward the woolshed door.

“Spencer, wait up!” A voice rang out from behind, and I turned to find a blond tattooed man in trendy ripped jeans and a Smith’s band T-shirt grab the door before it closed. He launched himself inside and shook the rain from his hair. “Fucking hell,” he grumbled. “I thought we weren’t supposed to get this till tonight?” He shoved a small chilly bin into Spencer’s hand’s and said, “Something to eat, courtesy of Norma. She knows you never pack a damn lunch.” He went up on his toes and planted a kiss on Jules’ cheek. “Hey, you.”

So, this was Liam. Spencer had briefly filled me in on the couple and all the prior drama regarding Jules’ homophobic dad.

“Did she put annnything in there f-f-for me?” a voice asked from the shadows of the shed, and I lifted my head to see an older man with a quad cane making his way over. Speak of the devil. This had to be Paddy Lane.

“No, she didn’t.” Liam chuckled. “But shedidtell me not to fall for any lies that you hadn’t eaten yet and to watch out that you didn’t pinch any of Spencer’s cake. You’re supposed to be eating less sugar, remember?” Liam arched a brow and the older man scowled.

“Don’t need her telling me wh-what to do,” Paddy grumbled.

Liam snorted. “I can tell her that, if you like?”

Paddy’s eyes blew wide. “N-no.” Then he glared. “You wouldn’t dare.”

My gaze bounced between them, fascinated with the dynamics of Spencer’s dad and Spencer’s boyfriend trading snark.

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