Page 43 of Landing Liam

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” she quips, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Okay, fine,” I admit, throwing my hands up. “I called in a favor with Mother Nature. Took weeks to plan. She almost bailed on me at the last minute, but I convinced her it was worth it.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, but her smile softens. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” I correct.

She groans, pushing open the bathroom door. “Let me guess, you’re going to have something witty to say when I come out, too?”

I smirk, watching her disappear into the bathroom. “Wouldn’t put it past me.”

The sound of her laughter echoes behind the closed door, and I can’t help but grin. Something about Maggie makes teasing her the most fun I’ve had in ages.

Chapter Eighteen

Maggie

The steam swirls around me in the marble shower, curling into lazy shapes that match the chaotic whirl of my thoughts. I run my hands through my damp hair and let out a long breath, trying to make sense of the situation. This bathroom—no, this entire room—is ridiculously fancy. The shower alone could probably fit five people comfortably, not that I plan on inviting anyone else in here.

I press my palms against the heated tiles and close my eyes, letting the warmth seep into my skin. How did I give in so easily? I should’ve found another way back to the hotel, blizzard be damned. But the truth is, I don’t know my way around this mountain town, and the idea of trudging through snowdrifts in the middle of the night seemed less like a brave decision and more like a reckless one. Staying here was just... practical.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

The problem is, practical isn’t usually this distracting. Spending a whole night in a lodge with Liam Thompson is stepping into dangerous territory. Not because I don’t trust myself—but because I don’t trust how good he makes me feel, how his smile could thaw any chill, or how his presence makes me forget that this is supposed to be about work.

Yes, that’s it. It’s all for the story. Research. I’m here to get an inside scoop. I remind myself for the hundredth time that Liam Thompson is a professional athlete and I’m a journalist. That’s all this is.

But even as I say it in my head, I know it’s only half true. Because if this is just about the story, then why am I still thinking about the way his leg brushed mine at the fire, the heat in his eyes, the way his tongue tangled with mine, or that maddening smirk that makes me feel like I’m both winning and losing some invisible game?

I groan softly and tilt my head back, letting the water wash over me. Focus, Maggie. You need to focus. You’re not here to fall for a guy like Liam. You’re here to do a job, write a compelling article, and move on with your life.

That’s all this is.

Right?

But what if, just for tonight, I stopped overthinking? What if I let myself just be—be Just Maggie, without the walls and the rules and the constant second-guessing? The thought lingers, tempting and terrifying. I lean against the cool marble, the steam curling around me like a warm cocoon, and close my eyes.

I haven’t had the best track record with relationships. In fact, I tend to excel at keeping people at arm’s length, building walls high enough to block out anyone who might want to get too close. It’s safer that way. Or at least, it used to be. Liam, though? He’s like a hammer. He doesn’t even try to climb the walls—I don’t think he even sees them. If he does, he smashes right through them. And somehow, that makes me want to let him in, which is… unsettling.

It doesn’t make sense. He’s a stranger. Sure, I know the surface-level stuff. The athlete. The “legend.” The bad boy persona with a cocky grin and enough charm to light up a whole mountain. But it’s not what I know about him that’s got my heart racing. It’s how he makes me feel. Like he sees me. Not Maggie the reporter, not Maggie with her guard up, but the Maggie I forgot existed—the one who’s spontaneous and maybe a little bit brave.

God, I do sound crazy.

I groan and press my palms against my face, the water streaming over my fingers. This isn’t me. I don’t lose focus like this. I don’t let people get under my skin, especially not the subject of my story. But tonight, standing in a shower that feels like it belongs in a five-star spa, I can’t stop thinking about him. About the way his laugh feels like a secret he’s sharing just with me, the way his eyes soften when he thinks I’m not glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, the way his presence somehow fills up the space around me.

What if I just let go, for one night? What’s the worst that could happen? I mean, other than everything, obviously.

I shake my head and turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping myself in the plush white towel hanging on the wall. I run my hand across the foggy mirror, revealing my reflection in the mirror. I’m a little flushed and a little wild-eyed.

Maybe tonight, I don’t have to make any decisions. Maybe I can just let the night unfold and see where it takes me. Just this once.

But as I step into the room and see Liam sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out and his eyes flicking up to meet mine with that signature grin, I know it’s not going to be that simple. Nothing about Liam Thompson is simple. And maybe that’s exactly what I need.

I lick my lips nervously, feeling exposed in just the fluffy white towel. “Did they…”

“They did,” Liam interrupts, standing smoothly from the couch. He grabs a small bag from the bed and walks toward me, his movements easy, natural. But his eyes? His eyes stay locked on mine, as if he’s deliberately avoiding looking anywhere else. The intensity of his gaze sends a ripple of heat through me.

“Here,” he says softly, handing me the bag. His fingers brush mine, and I swear the room gets warmer. “They said it should be comfortable.”