Jack

 

 

I put my fork down and took a mouthful of cider to douse the desire flaming in my belly. If Lawson moaned one more time when he ate or let the fork slide between his lips seductively like that again, I wasn’t sure my promise of being a gentleman would be upheld.

Jesus. He was so sexy, and what made him even hotter was that he seriously had no clue how sensual he was.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sipping his cider. “This is so good I keep forgetting to continue talking. Please tell Remmy I am duly impressed with her culinary skills.”

“I will.” I ate another mouthful and swallowed, trying to get my thoughts back on track. “Tell me about your family.”

I learned he had a brother and sister, both older than him. He was named after Henry Lawson; his brother, Paterson, and his sister, Mackellar, were also named after famous Australian poets. All three were gifted children. “Needless to say, our time at school wasn’t easy. Being the children with unusual names who preferred reading didn’t make for cohesive schooling. I’m very close with my brother and sister; we all speak often. Paterson studied nuclear medicine. Mackellar, interventional epidemiological research.”

“Wow.”

He almost smiled. “My parents had hoped I would study medicine. Anaesthesia and perioperative medicine, to be exact.” He made a face. “Though it was not for me.”

“Why butterflies?”

Lawson smiled genuinely. “My grandfather started me on it, but I’ve always been fascinated. As a small boy, I would catch them and watch them for hours before letting them go. They are incredibly complex, yet simple creatures. Brittle to the touch, but can withstand the fury of nature.”

He seemed embarrassed by what he’d just said, which saddened me. “Your passion for what you do is a beautiful thing. I’m very intrigued. I’d love to learn more.”

He tilted his head. “You would?”

“Yes, of course. Why, is that strange?”

“Well, most men I’ve dated think it’s childish, for one. They don’t take my work seriously.”

“Well, you’ve clearly dated the wrong guys. Talking about the study and conservation of an entire species is remarkable.”

Lawson looked at me like a fire lit inside him. “Thank you for saying that. For understanding.” He swallowed hard and his gaze seemed to intensify. “Tell me about you. Your family, what you do for Parks and Wildlife?”

“I grew up in Hobart. I have two sisters, Poppy and April, a mum and a step-dad, had a very normal childhood. Never liked school much; always preferred to be outside. Somehow got the grades, so I studied Environmental Science at Sydney Uni. Volunteered for the Rural Fire Service, which I still do. I scored an outreach program through Parks and Wildlife, landed a foot in the door, so to speak. Now I have the best job in the world.”

“What were you doing in Melbourne?” he asked, finishing his dinner. “For you to be on the plane this morning.”

God, was that just this morning? “A week-long national meeting for regional managers. They have them every six months or so.” I sipped my cider. “I don’t mind going, actually. A change of scene is always good, and a taste of nightlife one or two weekends a year might scratch an itch or two but reminds me how much I love quiet nights at home.”

He paused for a moment, licked his pink lips, and his eyes never left mine. “So, did you have your itch scratched?”

Fucking hell. When he said his conversation and social skills weren’t his strong point, he wasn’t joking. He certainly knew how to ask upfront, personal questions without flinching. My stomach somersaulted under his scrutiny. “Uh, no. Not this time. I wasn’t interested in anything on offer. But then someone on the plane caught my eye. A handsome guy wearing a bow tie.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

I smiled at him. “I’m hopeful that things are going okay.”

“I would think they’re going better than okay.”

I chuckled. “I’m glad I offered him a lift, then.”

“I’m glad I accepted. My initial concern that he may have been a serial killer seems to be unfounded.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiled as he sipped his cider. “Well, someone who knows the local state forests terrain could easily hide many bodies.”

Now I laughed. “Thanks.”

Lawson shifted in his seat. “Tell me about your work. What is it that you do exactly?”

So, over the mini Portuguese tarts I got from the fridge and another bottle of cider, I told him about data collection and collation, water testing, soil testing, animal tagging, writing reports, reading reports, and more data collection. How we implemented action plans and the importance of public information and awareness, and how we correlated the impact humans have on the environment to changes we’ve seen.

Lawson listened intently, then launched into his own interpretation of ecological system conservation, and how the study of butterflies has shown decreases in habitat and reproduction, how the different species adapted, and how some were disappearing altogether.

I could listen to him speak forever. He spoke with such eloquence and intelligence, it was refreshing. When he was making general conversation, his hands rested in his lap. But when he spoke about butterflies, his face lit up and he used his hands animatedly and lost that inhibition and self-consciousness that seemed to weigh him down.

A knock at the door scared the crap out of us. I checked my watch as I stood up. Jesus. It was almost midnight. Had we really been talking for that long?

I peeked through the curtain to find Steve, the local police sergeant. He was maybe fifty years old, fit as a bull, and liked by everyone who met him. I opened the door and offered him a smile. “Steve.”

“Oh, hey, Jack. I was passing by and saw the lights on. Thought it was too late for Remmy or Nico to still be here and too early for them to start.”

“No, they’re not here,” I said. “Remmy graciously let me use the shop.” I stepped back, allowing Steve to poke his head in.

He saw Lawson sitting at the small table. “Oh. Oh.”

I almost laughed at his expression as it dawned on him that we, two guys, were on a date. “Remmy made us some of Nico’s Portuguese tarts, and we’ll never eat them all,” I said, taking the plate with a few remaining sweets. “Please take one.”

Steve acted like he wasn’t going to take one, but he was totally always going to. “Oh well, okay. If you insist.” He shoved one in his mouth. “Mmm, good.” He swallowed that down and took a second one. “You guys have a good night.”

He waved me off, and I shut the door behind him. Lawson looked a little uncomfortable. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” I said with a chuckle. “Though it’s almost midnight.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised it was so late,” he said, standing up. He started to clear up. “What do we do with our plates?”

“Here, let me,” I said, piling the plates into the basket on the table. “I’ll take it all home and wash it.” I packed it all away, empty bottles, vase and all, and when the small bakery was back to normal, I opened the door and waited for Lawson to walk out before pulling the door locked shut behind me. He stopped at my ute, and when I put the basket in the back, he lifted the single daisy from the vase. He didn’t say a word, just gave me a shy smile, then climbed into the passenger seat holding the flower between his long, thin fingers.

I jumped in behind the wheel and started the ute. It was only a short drive to where he was staying, so I didn’t have time to waste. “So, what are you actually doing in Scottsdale? I know you don’t want to talk about what the professor told you, but am I allowed to know at least how long you’ll be in town for?”

He bit his bottom lip. “I’ll be here for a week.”

“Seven days, huh?” I couldn’t help but smile. “Then there’s a good chance I’ll see you again?”

“I should expect so,” he said simply. “I’ll be at the Parks and Wildlife office in the morning to collect my visitor permits. After I sort out the rental car fiasco, that is.”

A slow smile spread across my face. “Visitor permits?”

“Yes. Professor Tillman organised it during the week. When you were in Melbourne, I suspect. I’ll be surveying Lepidoptera in Mount Stronach Forest Reserve for the week. I would think there’s a good chance you’ll be seeing quite a bit of me in the next seven days.”

I pulled up out the front of the B&B and killed the engine. I had to bite my bottom lip to stop from grinning. This was possibly the best news I’d ever heard. “Mount Stronach?”

“Yes. Have you heard of it?”

“Heard of it? That’s my jurisdiction. I mean, it’s one of the national parks I look after. I know it well.”

“I assumed it might be,” he said. “Well, I hoped. It would mean a greater chance of seeing you again.” He looked at the flower he was holding and chewed on his bottom lip. “If you don’t mind me saying that.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

In the low light of the night, he looked even more pale, more beautiful. He held up the flower and stared right at me. “Thank you for the daisy. And thank you for such a lovely evening.”

The air between us was suddenly electric. God, I wanted so bad to kiss him, not sure how I should proceed. There was the console of the ute between us, and if I leaned in and he didn’t, I’d die of embarrassment…

He licked his lips. “I believe it’s customary for a gentleman to offer a kiss on a first date.”

I barked out a laugh, thankful, relieved. “I believe it is too,” I murmured. I leaned across and slid my hand along his cheek, gently bringing his lips to mine. Soft, warm, sweet, and with the barest hint of parted lips and the promise to deepen but not yet…

Perfect.

Lawson’s eyelids fluttered when I pulled back, and he blushed with a smile that stole my breath. “Tomorrow,” he whispered.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He got out and disappeared into the darkness, and I drove home in a daze. I was grinning like crazy and unable to stop it. I slid the basket of dirty plates on the sink to leave until morning, gave Rosemary a pat and apologised for waking her, and for leaving her all week with Remmy, and then again leaving her tonight. She looked up at me with her big brown Border collie eyes, probably wondering what on earth made me so damn happy at half-past twelve in the morning.

“I met someone special today,” I told her. “His name is Lawson Gale.” She wagged her tail at me. “I dunno, Rosie, but if there’s any such thing as perfect for me, he just might be it.”

* * * 

At ten o’clock, after I’d been at work for three hours watching the door in case he turned up, Perfect walked in. Well, not so much as walked in as kind of tripped through the doors, trying to hold a folder in one hand, hold a phone to his ear with his other hand, while opening the door with his elbow. He almost dropped the folder, managed to catch it, but caught his foot on the threshold.

He stumbled a little but thankfully didn’t fall over. He collected himself and raised his chin defiantly. “I’ll be in touch,” he said into the phone. He disconnected the call and, looking around the office, found me smiling at him.

God, he was just even better looking today than he was yesterday. He was wearing navy chinos and a white button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms and his top button was undone. The hollow of his throat looked inviting and I wanted to lick it. “Good morning.”

His cheeks tinted a faint pink. “Well, yes. It is now. I suppose. The car rental company finally found my paperwork. It only took them two hours this morning, and I only had to yell a few times.” He slid his folder onto the reception counter and took a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s been quite a morning.”

“Did you get a car sorted out, though?”

“Yes, thank you. A rather big one. I’m not entirely sure what exactly the design team was overcompensating for when they came up with it.”

I looked out the window and saw the latest model white Land Rover Defender parked out the front. I smiled at his overcompensating comment. “You’ll need the torque if you’re going off-road, particularly in the mountains around here.”

“Yes, well, true. Not that I’ll be going anywhere too dangerous.” He looked horrified at the thought. “Well, I don’t think I am. Topographical maps can be deceiving.”

“Have you got a map of where you’re required to go specifically?” I asked. I’d gone through the application this morning, so I knew where he was going. I wanted to know if he did.

“Yes.” He pulled out a paper map, then a tablet, and showed me the areas on both. He was familiar with where he had to go, hypothetically anyway. In a physical sense, I wasn’t so sure. Yes, he was smart, but wandering off into the Tasmanian wilds on your own was nothing to be blasé about.

“Do you need someone to go with you?”

“I’m not stupid.”

I smiled at his indignant rebuff. Always on the defensive. “I never said you were. In fact, we both know you’re the opposite of stupid. This area through here”—I pointed to the part of the map he was wanting to go—“isn’t easy to access. There’s a gorge that runs right along here. But there’s a fire trail that runs across the bluff. I can get you access to it if you want.”

“Oh.” He blinked a few times, and I could almost hear the cogs turning behind his eyes. “Would the person who comes with me require payment? Are they talkers? Because if they don’t shut up, I’d rather get lost in the forest by myself.” I chuckled at that, which he ignored. “I’m not saying I can’t make my own way, but I would not be opposed to guided help, even if just for the first day.”

He was so adorable. I could see why his co-workers probably didn’t exactly like his brashness, but I found it endearing. He didn’t mean any harm by what he said or how he said it. He simply said what he thought because it made sense to him, and it was very clear he compartmentalised; emotions and ego were not mutually exclusive with his work.

“I don’t doubt your competence or ability,” I said with a smile. “I was referring to a personal guide, a Parks and Wildlife Officer, to be exact.”

He stared at me blankly. Okay, so genius, maybe. Clueless, definitely. “That would be me.”

“Oh.” He looked around the office again. “Are you not busy? Is the office always empty? I would have assumed for a government agency you’d put our taxes to better use.”

I scoffed and put my hand to my heart. “You wound me! Robert is at a careers day at the high school, which I cheerfully let him do―”

“Let him or made him?”

“Made is a strong word. It was more a case of rock, paper, scissors.”

“Who is Robert?”

“He’s my 2IC.” I waved at the desk on the right. “That’s his desk and that one’s mine.” I pointed to the other desk. “And this one here”—I waved to the front desk—“belongs to Karen, our wonderful office manager who keeps us all organised. She has just ducked down to the coffee shop to get us both a brew. I need some extra help staying awake because someone kept me up talking half the night, and I was here early because I had no clue what time he’d drop by and I didn’t want to miss him. I really should have grabbed his phone number.”

He chuckled. “Well, if you’re offering to be my guide and you can spare the hours, I would happily agree.”

“Ah, but it’s a no to a phone number.”

Lawson fished his mobile out of his pocket and handed it to me. “If you would be so kind as to add your number as a contact.” I did as he asked and handed it straight back to him. He held it up and hit Call, making my mobile ring on my desk. “You now have my number.”

Just then, the door opened and Karen walked in carrying a takeaway tray with two coffees. “Oh, hello there,” she said cheerfully, as always. She handed me a cup. “For you.”

“Karen, this is Lawson Gale. The Mount Stronach permit is for him. In fact, I’ll be showing him the area today. I’ll be back by five.”

“Okay,” Karen said, sipping her coffee. She looked at Lawson. “Nice to meet you.”

He smiled politely. “Nice to meet you too.”

I grabbed my phone, keys, and a handful of files, and Lawson collected his folder. I stopped at my ute. “Have you got a medical kit?” I asked him.

“Yes, of course.” Lawson opened the rear door in his rented Defender. Inside were eight plastic tubs, some empty, some filled with papers and jars, and a white box with a very discernible medical cross.

I was surprised, to say the least. “Did you have these packed in your suitcase?”

“No. I had them sent ahead.”

“What exactly are you doing out in Stronach? I assume it has something to do with whatever your professor asked to see you about?”

“You would assume correctly.” Lawson held out the car keys. “Are you driving?”

“No. Guide only. That way you’ll be familiar when you drive out by yourself.”

We headed down the Tasman Highway for a while, and at my instruction, we turned off at the rifle range road. After about ten kilometres, the road thinned out and became more of a track. It was bumpy and jarring, but at least the scenery was lovely. Lawson knocked the gears back to second to navigate a steep incline. “Does this billygoat track actually lead anywhere? Or are you taking me to your favourite serial killer spot?”

I laughed at him. “You know, you actually handle a four-wheel drive vehicle pretty good. I’m impressed.”

“No. You’re surprised. Why would you assume I can’t drive?”

“I don’t really know.”

“You thought I was just a lab rat who never takes off his white coat.”

“Do you wear a white coat?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows.

He laughed at that. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, I would. That’s why I asked. I also asked what you were doing out here in the middle of the forest at the instruction of a retired professor, but you didn’t answer that either.” I pointed up ahead to a turn-off, which was more of a track than the track we were on. “The clearing you’re after will be up ahead, about two hundred metres.”

Lawson navigated the Defender easily and pulled up in the clearing. “What Professor Tillman asked me to look for is a specimen of Copper Lycaenidae.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a type of butterfly.”

He cut the engine. “Yes, it is.”

“He called you to come here, all the way from Melbourne, to look for a butterfly?”

“Yes, he did.”

“What’s so special about it?”

Lawson hopped out of the Defender, turned back, and grinned at me. “It doesn’t exist.”