Page 38 of Landing Liam

Maggie exhales, her fingers lightly circling the rim of her wine glass as she turns to look at me. “I like the job I have now, but I want more.” Her voice softens, almost like she’s sharing something she doesn’t usually let people see. “I’m not built for luxury or flashy job titles, or my photo plastered across the front of some magazine. I don’t want the world to know my name. I just want to tell the truth.”

Her words settle between us, and for the first time tonight, there’s no teasing, no witty back and forth. Just Maggie. Real, unfiltered Maggie.

“I’m happy with a blank page,” she continues quietly, her gaze drifting to the flames dancing in the fireplace, “a cup of coffee, and a story that needs to be told.”

There’s something so raw, so honest about the way she says it that it catches me off guard. She’s not pretending. Not trying to impress me or anyone else. She knows exactly who she is, and she’s not ashamed of it.

“That’s rare, you know,” I tell her.

Her eyes flick back to mine, curiosity flickering behind the blue. “What is?”

“Knowing what makes you happy. A lot of people spend their whole lives searching for that.”

She blinks at me, like she wasn’t expecting those words to come out of my mouth. Then she gives me a smile—small and maybe even a little shy. It hits me harder than it should, straight to my chest.

“What about you?” she asks suddenly, shifting the spotlight back to me. “If you could do anything in the world—no limits—what would it be?”

I chuckle softly, leaning back against the couch. “That’s easy. I’d be snowboarding. There’s nothing else I want to do.” Even if I might not be able to do it for much longer.

Maggie narrows her eyes, studying me. “With all the pressure? The constant training? The spotlight?”

I shrug. “Yeah. It’s all worth it the second I hit the slopes. Everything else fades away. There’s no noise, no stress—just me and the mountain.”

She watches me quietly for a moment, something I can’t quite read in her expression. “That sounds… freeing.”

“It is,” I admit. “But you know what? I think your blank page and coffee might come pretty close.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Or maybe I’m just starting to figure you out,” I counter with a grin.

Her smile lingers, and for the first time all night, the space between us feels like it’s disappearing. The room fades into the background, the fire crackles softly, and it’s just the two of us, wrapped up in quiet conversation and the kind of tension you don’t dare name out loud.

But even as I sit there, half smiling at her and trying to keep things light, there’s one undeniable truth tugging at the back of my mind: Maggie Cooper is starting to make me want… more.

Chapter Sixteen

Maggie

I don’t know if it’s the heat from the fireplace or the wine slowly humming through my veins, but Liam looks impossibly golden in the firelight. It’s unfair, really, how someone can sit so comfortably in their own skin—like the universe designed the room to revolve around him. His dark hair is a little tousled, his jawline unfairly sharp, and those eyes—melted chocolate and mischief—keep locking onto mine like I’m the only person who matters.

I shift on the couch, suddenly feeling too warm in my sweater and a little too aware of the space—or lack thereof—between us. “You’re staring at me,” I point out, my voice far steadier than I feel.

“You’re staring at me,” Liam counters, his lips curling into that lopsided grin, the kind that could disarm even the most guarded heart with its easy charm.

“I’m not.” I blink, turning my head just enough to pretend to focus on the flames flickering in the fireplace. “I’m… thinking.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans back against the couch, his arm stretching across the back, not quite touching me but close enough that I can feel the heat of him. “What are you thinking about, Maggie?”

I swallow, unwilling to admit the truth—that I’m thinking about how his voice seems to wrap around me like a favorite scarf, or how his grin makes me forget that getting involved with him would be the worst idea of my career. Instead, I go for the safer option. “I’m thinking about how your life must look to someone on the outside.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

I gesture vaguely toward him, like he’s a walking, talking picture-perfect ad for snowboarding. “The competitions. The travel. The sponsors. To most people, it probably looks like this glamorous, exciting dream.”

“And what about you?” he asks, his tone softening. “What do you think it looks like?”

I turn to face him again, meeting his gaze head-on. “Honestly? I think it looks exhausting.”