Page 18 of Landing Liam

“Well, then,” I say, letting my voice drop just a notch, “I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

Maggie’s eyes narrow, but there’s no hiding the spark of amusement—and attraction—behind them. “Good luck with that, Liam. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Challenge accepted,” I reply, the corners of my mouth lift even higher as I reluctantly loosen my hold on her waist, letting her slip just out of reach. But not too far. Not yet.

She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath that I can’t quite catch.

“Does all this research mean you’re coming to the competition tomorrow?” I ask, unable to help myself. I want to keep her talking, keep her close, even though she’s already starting to pull away.

Maggie exhales heavily, like just the thought of it is exhausting. “I am.”

“You don’t seem too excited about that,” I note, both internally and out loud. Her groan confirms my suspicions.

“It’s going to be cold,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “And my car doesn’t exactly have a heater.”

“Are you planning on watching the event from your car?” I ask, half-joking. “There are spectator areas, you know. Some even have outdoor heaters. And if you’re really desperate, I know the guy who owns the lodge and the mountain. I could get you set up in a room with a view—”

“I’m good,” she snaps, taking a step back as her tone turns sharp.

The shift in her demeanor is so sudden it catches me off guard. “Everything okay?” I ask, frowning. I wish she’d ditch that beanie so I could see her full face, not just the bits and pieces she lets me glimpse.

“I’m not looking for a handout,” she says, her words clipped. “Or for you to throw your money around to show off.”

“What?” I blink, thoroughly confused. “I didn’t think you were—”

“It’s time for me to go,” she cuts me off, firm and final.

“No,” I say, the word slipping out before I can stop it. The moment’s taken an awkward turn, and I don’t know how to fix it.

“Good luck tomorrow,” she says over her shoulder, and just like that, she’s bolting for the door, disappearing into the night before I can say another word.

I run a hand through my hair, sighing as I make my way back to Taylor and Elle.

“Where’d the normal girl go?” Elle asks, her disappointment obvious. “She wasn’t weird, or flirty, or looking for a quick romp in the hay.”

“Romp in the hay?” I snort as I slide onto the stool next to my brother.

“Hookup,” Elle begrudgingly clarifies.

“Easy come, easy go,” I reply with a shrug, though I don’t feel as nonchalant as I sound. Something about Maggie’s reaction to my offer doesn’t sit right. It wasn’t like I was trying to flash money around—it was just practical. She hates the cold. Why not make it easier for her? But then again, there’s clearly more to her than she’s letting on.

“Hey,” Barry, the bartender, calls out, interrupting my thoughts. “The girl you were dancing with left her bag at that table.”

I glance over to a table in the back corner where Maggie must have been sitting earlier and spot a black laptop bag.

“It’s a sign,” I say, half to myself, standing up and heading straight for it.

“A sign of what?” Taylor groans, exasperated as I grab the bag and sling it over my shoulder.

“It’s a sign,” I repeat, turning back toward the door. “I’m meant to see her again. I just know it.”

I’m hoping I’m right.

Chapter Eight

Maggie

“This is a disaster, Odie,” I groan into the phone, pacing the small hotel room as I tug at my hair. The stress feels like a weight pressing down on my chest, and voicing it out loud doesn’t seem to help. “Why did Janowicz think I could handle this? I can’t. I’m broke, my car has no heater, I’m basically homeless, and after all my research, I’ve found nothing. Nothing! Liam Thompson might be a man whore, sure, but doping? It just doesn’t feel like him.”