Page 11

“I’ve always loved beautiful things,” I murmur, watching Liam while my curiosity for him only grows. “Like this sunset. So simple, it really is an everyday thing here, but still so unique and special every time I see it.”

The sunset at the Storm Ranch has to be on the top fifteen things I find the most beautiful, but my gaze moves to Liam’s peaceful expression on its own and he holds all my attention. At least for a long moment until something in my gut tells me I have to look at the sun before it disappears.

I can’t be sure he even heard what I said, but I stay silent and watch until not even a tiny sliver of the star is visible. Only then, as the floodlights in the party central and the tennis court come on automatically, do I turn back to look at Liam.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m developing an app,” he says, surprising the hell out of me.

And before I can try to ask any more, he’s telling me all about it.

“It started as something I needed for myself. I had the idea while I was studying at Juilliard and the constant sounds of the school made it impossible for me to function some days. So, when I graduated, I decided to study the effects different sounds, soundwaves, and frequencies have on the brain. I got my bachelor’s in psychology and majored in research and neurophysiology, then I did my master’s in sound manipulation, and then a PhD in neurolinguistics.

My thesis was based on my research on different soundwaves and the effects they have on the chemistry of the brain and the secretion of different neurotransmitters.

The way our neurons react to styles of music and how that transforms our state of mind in the long run.

“I found clear evidence that different frequencies and rhythms can lower stress, anxiety, and even bring people out of a panic attack. So I got some guys in the programming department to teach me how to write algorithms, and then I created one that can create a playlist to regulate neurotransmitter production based on the current emotional state of whoever answers five questions.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been gobsmacked before.

And I’m pretty sure that’s the only way to describe my current state as I gape at Liam, who is still looking out at the Pacific even while the view is being swallowed by darkness.

I have no idea what to say. I actually don’t want to say anything, I only want to hear more. This is some fascinating shit. Liam is so fucking passionate about what he does. It’s inspiring, and a bit mesmerizing if I’m honest.

“It took a couple of years to perfect that five question quiz, and the algorithm too of course. But now I know that those five questions with five possible answers each, can describe most emotional states.”

He takes a deep breath and looks in my direction for a moment—not at me, which is something I’ve noticed he does.

He shrugs and when he speaks again he’s using his hands to articulate too.

I realize as I look at him that this is the first time I can’t see any tension in the corner of his eyes.

He’s relaxed, completely in his element.

“Now the issue is, maybe one song that fits your emotional needs is one that will trigger you. So let’s say in your case, you’re having an intense moment of grief.

” I fight the urge to suck in a deep breath and make sure to stay in the moment so I don’t miss a single word he says.

“And you answer the questions, the algorithm detects the grief, and in your playlist you get one song that reminds you of your mother.

That can be helpful in a mild moment of grief, but in an intense one it would exacerbate it and make it worse.

“What I’m working on now is an app that will integrate all these functions.

I’ve got a couple of programmers working on making sure there’s a section when you’re setting it up that will require you to name songs that you have a strong emotional attachment to, and why.

That part of the algorithm is tricky, because it has to be customizable to each person, not only by the answers to the five questions but to the nuances they add to those specific songs.

And I’m still working on automating all of that instead of having the app just avoid using those songs, because like I said, they can be helpful in certain emotional states.

“Also, if someone has a smartwatch, or one of those rings London told me you got your friend, something that measures your heartbeat and basic vitals that can be connected to your phone, those can help make the diagnosis more accurate in the moment. There are three thousand one hundred and twenty-five possible combinations of answers on the quiz, and I do want there to be a big variety when it comes to song selection, and that it matches a person’s tastes.

So if we get access to how many minutes a day someone listens to music, which artists are their favorite and all of it, it would be even more personalized. ”

He lets out a huge sigh, and turns back to look at the now completely dark ocean.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. I’d like to think I’m a fairly clever man, but damn... this is some other level shit.

“That’s where all the business politics come into play,” he says, like he hates it, and it brings a smile to my face.

“I’m not good at that,” he grumbles. “So I’ve been leaving that to Tristan—you know who Tristan is, right?

” He clearly interrupts his own stream of thoughts, and seems to only now realize he’s been talking to me. Or remembers it, I’m not sure.

“I know a Tristan,” I start. “Are you talking about public relations expert and Harrison’s husband, Tristan? The Tristan who’s also the PR guy for Wolf and Hawk?”

“And a good number of other people, yes.” He nods seriously, and after a fleeting moment when his starkly light eyes collide with mine, he looks away again.

“In any case, Tristan is helping me with that side of things. He’s dealing with bringing the initial idea to the music streaming companies, and trying to reach an agreement.

It’s probably going to cost me way too much money—sorry was that insensitive?

” He cuts himself off again, and frowns over at me.

Or in my vicinity. His eyes aren’t quite meeting mine, and I’m sensing a pattern.

I don’t mind, it’s just... I’m learning about him. He’s a man like no other, at least no other I’ve met, and once more I’m not quite sure what to say.

“You—what?” I shake my head to try to clear it and figure out what he thinks was insensitive.

“The thing about grief,” he explains, his face still scrunched in a frown.

“No, no—” I stop myself and take a deep breath.

It’s been more than a few years since I promised myself I wouldn’t lie again.

“It was,” I confess. “I mean, it can be,” I amend when his eyes open wide in clear horror.

“I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way,” I hurry to explain.

“It was obvious you weren’t trying to be insensitive, is what I mean.

You were doing your best to explain something that can be very complex, I’m sure, so you didn’t hurt my feelings, I promise. ”

“Okay.” He breathes out harshly. “Thank you for telling me. I believe social conventions dictate you should’ve lied to avoid hurting my feelings, but I’m glad you didn’t.

I’m not great at interpreting social cues, or matching facial expressions with feelings, so you being truthful and direct is best.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmur, once again wanting to find out everything about Liam Trent. “So wait, you’re saying I could connect your app to whatever service I use for music and it would use the songs I like?”

“That’s the idea.” He lets out another long—somewhat suffering—sigh.

“But it’s tricky. We’ve gotten a good amount of interest from what Tristan has said, but they all want exclusivity and even a percentage of ESoothe, and I already have to share with Harvard since they paid for the research that all of this is based on.

I don’t really want to share it with anyone else, but if I don’t give them ownership or exclusivity, they want to charge an absurd amount of money. ”

“That’s bollocks,” is my unfiltered reaction, but I don’t regret it. “They should be paying you for giving them access to your algorithm,” I cry out, seriously offended on his behalf.

“That’s what I say,” he shouts too. We look at each other, both smiling for a long moment, and then I chuckle again.

“I really like your laugh. It’s calming,” he says, surprising me.

“Oh, I don’t think anyone has ever complimented my laugh before,” I point out uselessly, and feel like an idiot.

“I’m just stating a fact,” he says, in a dry tone that I’m pretty sure isn’t meant to be sarcastic, and he makes me feel even more like an idiot, but I also feel a burst of tenderness inside my chest. “I normally can’t stand it when someone laughs loudly.”

It takes me a moment to gather my wits and keep the conversation going—which has been fucking riveting up until now.

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Most of the laughs I hear every day are my brothers’ and it reminds me of when they wouldn’t stop crying when they were babies.”

“You live with them too?” I wonder, and do my best to not sound like a wistful baby.

“No, I live a few floors down. I moved there when I left Boston a couple of years ago.”

“Right.” It only clicks then. “ Right , you went to Harvard and got all those fancy degrees there.” I can’t help but smile.

I’ve never met a person who went to Harvard and didn’t boast about it endlessly—even Adam’s cousins—and he skipped right over that fact.

I bet he wouldn’t have even said it if the details about the ownership hadn’t come up.