I barked out a laugh. “Well, we can discuss your personal boundaries over a drink if you don’t want to eat.” I could tell by the look on his face and the colour he went what he thought I meant by that, which wasn’t what I meant at all. It only made me laugh more. “Not those kind of personal boundaries. That’s not where my mind went, but clearly yours did.”
He spluttered. “It did not.”
“It totally did. And I’m okay with that. But please, let me buy you dinner first. I’m a gentleman, after all.”
He tried to speak but couldn’t seem to find the words. So instead, he looked out the window at the passing city. I could see the tips of his ears were pink and he was still clutching his laptop satchel on his lap. I felt bad for taking advantage of his embarrassment, but before I could apologise, he turned to me abruptly. “So we are clear, my personal boundaries are mine to divulge when and where I choose fit. Not you. Whilst I do appreciate the taxiing me across Tasmania, which you have graciously afforded me―and I am most grateful―I don’t divulge such personal information on a first date. Because I am a gentleman also, after all.”
Nerdy, gorgeous, intelligent, and sassy. God, he just keeps getting better.
“And you can stop smiling like that,” he continued.
“No, I’m good, thanks,” I said, grinning at him. “You just called dinner a date. I’m well within my personal boundaries to smile.”
He sniffed indignantly, but now he was trying not to smile. “I think you missed the point.”
I was pretty sure I didn’t. I was so intrigued by this man, I was excited to know more about him. “So, I take it your meeting with the professor at the museum went well?”
“Very well. He’s a very generous man. He’s donated a reasonable find of specimen to the museum. He’s been a lepidopterist for the better part of sixty years, and his collection is quite remarkable.”
“He works there?”
“Not at all. He’s into his eighties now. He has simply given his entire collection to the museum and wished for me to see it. For some reason, he seems to have taken a liking to me,” he said. “He has asked me to do a field study. Chosen me, I should say. He claims to be too old to be trekking into the field these days, and he trusts me.”
“Have you met him before?”
“Not before today. I’ve studied his works and read his many journals. I attended a lecture of his at Melbourne University.”
“How can he trust you if you’ve only just met today?”
“Because he’s studied my work and read my journal entries. My thesis, he said, was brilliant.”
He spoke of his own merits without ego. I guess he didn’t need to. If he was as brilliant as he claimed to be, it spoke for itself.
“I think he likes the fact I’m not… cohesive with my peers,” he went on to say. “I tend to speak my mind, which annoys my superiors to no end. I also refuse to blindly agree with their decisions only to further my career.”
“What’s the field study he trusts you with?”
“Ah…”
“You’d rather not say,” I concluded. “He trusts you with it, I get that.”
“Thank you.” Lawson sighed and studied the passing scenery again for a short while. “It’s very dry here. I was expecting Tasmania to be greener.”
“The drought has hit hard,” I explained. “This is the third year with rainfall well below average for these parts. The west and south coasts haven’t experienced any drought at all, but the north and east have struggled. Farmers are doing it tough. Towns have been on level three water restrictions for going on two years now.”
“I assume water conservation is a substantial part of your job.”
“Yep. You assume correctly. Land, water, ecosystems, flora, fauna. It has to be about conservation.”
He smiled at me like something clicked into place inside him. “I wholeheartedly agree.”
And driving down the highway at a hundred k’s an hour, our gazes locked for just a moment, and something clicked into place inside me.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lawson
Scottsdale was a small agricultural town. With a population of two and a half thousand people, there was a primary school, a high school, a small supermarket, a pub, post office, a bakery, and not a great deal more. It was very scenic, though. The main street had kept its heritage look with old-fashioned bull-nosed verandas, window shutters, and antiquated signs. It was charming.
“Where am I taking you to?” Jack asked as we drove down the main street.
I took out my phone and read the email confirmation. “Bloom’s Bed and Breakfast. It was either that or the pub. I don’t fancy the noise of a pub, so I opted for the quieter option.”
He smiled knowingly. “The B&B is lovely. Well, I’ve never stayed there, but it looks real nice and the owners are good people. The pub’s not bad, though. No real late nights out here, and never any trouble, if that was what you were worried about.”
I ignored his implied question. “Do you know everyone in this town?”
“Pretty much.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Three years. And I love it. It was a helluva lot greener when I moved here. A lot prettier, but I do love it here regardless.”
“Where are you from?”
“Hobart. And you?”
“Melbourne.”
Jack nodded and pulled the ute to a stop out the front of a quaint looking cottage with a Bloom’s Bed and Breakfast sign swinging from a post in the front yard. “Well, this is you.”
“It is.”
“So, about dinner,” he started. “I had every intention of taking you somewhere nice in Launceston because I thought that was where you were staying. But now you’re staying here. I mean, we can still go back to the city if you’d prefer because our dining options are limited. We have the pub or the corner takeaway shop. Their fish and chips are good, and the bowlo has pretty good Chinese food, but if I were wanting to impress, I’d rather eat somewhere a little fancier.”
“Are you?” I asked. “Wanting to impress?”
Jack looked right at me. “Yes.”
My stomach twisted in a strange but pleasant way. “Then I shall leave it to you to surprise me.”
“Oh good,” he said with a laugh. “No pressure then.”
I smiled, feeling victorious. Over what, I had no clue. “And so you’re aware, my expectations are not directly related to the food we eat, but rather the company. And I’m already impressed.”
His smile was immediate and heart stopping. Before I could do something stupid, I unbuckled my seatbelt, pushed on the door handle, and climbed out of the ute. Jack scrambled to do the same, and he met me around my side. He lifted my suitcase out and put it between us, his hands still around the handle. “So, is six o’clock okay? It’s three hours away. Is that enough time?”
“Six o’clock would be perfect.”
He grinned and stared at me.
“Uh, can I have my suitcase?”