Page 36 of Landing Liam

And yeah, I noticed the way her leg bumped against mine earlier while we were sitting with the guys. It wasn’t much—just a soft, barely-there touch—but she didn’t pull away, either. She kept sneaking glances at me, too, thinking I wouldn’t notice. But I did. Maggie Cooper might not want to admit it yet—not to me, and probably not to herself—but she likes me.

It’s written all over her.

“Pining over your date already?” a voice teases behind me.

I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Bryce. “I don’t pine,” I shoot back, straightening up as I turn to face him.

Bryce raises an eyebrow, his smirk annoyingly smug. “You’ve been staring out that window like you’re waiting for her to come walking through the snow in slow motion or something.”

“I’m thinking,” I correct him, though I know he’s not buying it.

“Sure.” Bryce snickers as he flops into one of the big leather chairs nearby. “So, are you actually into this girl, or is this just another one of your many conquests?”

“She’s different,” I say without thinking.

Bryce pauses, giving me a look like I just admitted I plan to retire tomorrow and take up knitting. “Different?”

I roll my shoulders, suddenly feeling the weight of the word. “Yeah.”

He whistles low, shaking his head. “Well, damn. If Liam Thompson is saying ‘different,’ I think the sky must be falling.”

“Maybe it is.”

“I should have known,” Bryce chuckles. “This afternoon, you were staring at her the entire time like she’s the last snowboard on Earth.”

I snort, even though he’s not wrong. “She’s different.” I know I keep saying it, but it’s the truth.

“Different,” Bryce repeats again, grinning. “Watch out, man. Next thing you know, you’ll be writing her poems and asking her to carve your initials into a tree.”

“Go away, Bryce.”

He laughs as he kicks his boots up on the table, thoroughly entertained at my expense. But I can’t bring myself to care. Because for the first time in a long time, the thought of drinks with a woman—one woman—feels like more than just a distraction.

It feels like something I’m actually looking forward to.

The snow continues to fall in curtains of white. I check the weather and see that there’s even more snow in the forecast. I really hope Maggie gets here soon.

As if on cue, the glass doors slide open, and there she is. Maggie steps inside, brushing snow off her shoulders as the cold air clings to her. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, and that same knit beanie—her signature, apparently—sits snug on her head.

I don’t know why my heart kicks into a faster rhythm, but it does. Maybe it’s the way she carries herself, like she doesn’t care who’s watching, or the fact that she’s completely oblivious to the way she affects me.

She scans the room as she walks farther in, her eyes catching mine. There’s this tiny moment—barely a flicker—where her lips twitch, like she’s fighting back a smile, before she looks away.

Smooth, Maggie. Real smooth.

As she unbuttons her coat, my eyes trail downward before I can stop myself. She’s ditched the bulky layers and is wearing a simple black sweater that fits her just right. Not too snug, not too loose, but enough that I can see the soft lines of her figure. She tugs the coat off her shoulders, and for a second, I can’t remember how breathing works.

Who knew a sweater and jeans could look that good?

I push off the window ledge as she moves closer, trying not to look too eager—though judging by the smirk Bryce is shooting me from his chair, I’m failing miserably.

“Nice of you to show up,” I say, aiming for casual but somehow sounding a little breathless.

Maggie raises an eyebrow as she stops in front of me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What, did you think I was going to stand you up?”

“Would have been the first time a girl’s done it,” I quip, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “But I had faith.”

“Faith, huh?” she says, giving me a look like she doesn’t quite believe me. “Well, here I am.”