Page 89 of Where the Wattles Bloom

So this version of him was new. Up close, anyway.

‘You’re sweaty,’ she said without thinking, taking in the slick of moisture at his hairline.

He grimaced, his fingers stilling on Shirley’s coat, who bleated her displeasure at the interruption. ‘Sorry.’

Belatedly remembering the conversation they’d had about his ex’s abhorrence of sweat, Rowena rushed to assure him. ‘Don’t be.’

Her nostrils flared again as her gaze found the beads of sweat collecting in the shallow dip where his collarbones met. A flood of pheromones swamped her system as she zeroed in on that fascinating hollow, wondering what he might taste like there if she leaned in and licked.

Salty, probably. And his skin would be hot on her tongue. How Gabby hadn’t torn his clothes off every day on his return to the homestead, Rowena had no idea.

Dragging her eyes off the spot before she disgraced herself, her eyes met his. ‘I like it.’

He frowned. ‘You like … sweat?’

‘Sure.’ Which, she realised suddenly, probably made her sound a little weird. ‘I mean … it’s not some kind of fetish. I don’t have a BO kink or anything. I just think a fine sheen of perspiration after a hard day’s work can be very …’

Rowena stopped herself before she said stimulating. Or sexy. For god’s sake, this was going from bad to worse. What was she doing here? Trying to seduce him?

‘Sorry,’ she apologised. ‘That was a kinda weird thing to say. I seriously don’t know what happened there.’

Which was the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. Her libido had taken control of her mouth.

‘Note to self,’ he murmured with a grin, clearly unperturbed by her admission. ‘She likes her men sweaty.’

Rowena couldn’t stop her answering grin. Nor could she stop the little hitch in her breath at the thought he was cataloguing her likes. ‘That’s what you got from that?’

He shrugged. ‘I am but a simple country guy.’

She laughed. There was nothing simple about Lachlan McCabe. Or their relationship. It sure as hell was becoming more and more entwined every day. But she liked that he didn’t take himself or the situation too seriously.

That he could find the levity.

Her life—for the longest time—had been so damn serious. It was nice being able to breathe in his company.

Shirley, clearly deciding she was being neglected as they grinned at each other, bleated pathetically. ‘Yes, yes, bossy britches,’ Lachlan said, turning his attention to the lamb, offering another scratch under the chin.

If sheep could shudder, Shirley shuddered.

‘You want to go to trivia tonight?’ he asked, as he petted the lamb.

Rowena had stopped going to trivia when the morning sickness had been bad, but there was no reason not to now. Except for the fact she should stay the hell away from Lachlan McCabe and his damn pheromones.

But the alternative was spending the night with him here in a house with a lot of beds and their chaperones retiring ridiculously early. At least there’d be other company at trivia and the distraction of the game.

‘That’d be great.’

He nodded. ‘We’ll leave at six.’

*

Except when they pulled up outside The Stockman, Rowena got cold feet. She could tell from out here that the pub was jumping tonight. All the parking spaces in close proximity were taken and the muted chatter from inside drifted in through her open car window from across the street.

She didn’t move as he cut the engine, just sat and stared for what felt like a very long time. Lachlan broke into her contemplation when he opened his door.

‘You coming?’

Rowena glanced across at him as he swung his legs out before returning her attention to the glow of lights spilling from the windows that ran down either side of the building. Given they’d been at the centre of town gossip since her pregnancy became common knowledge, their entrance would probably cause quite the stir, and she suddenly wasn’t keen to be a curiosity.