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.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, clutching the bag tightly to my chest. My voice sounds steady, but inside, my heart is pounding like it’s trying to escape.
Liam doesn’t step back immediately. He lingers, his eyes still on mine, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “You’re welcome.”
I clear my throat, needing to break the tension before I combust. “Well, I’ll just… get dressed.”
He nods, stepping back to give me space, but I feel the weight of his presence as I walk back toward the bathroom. Just before I close the door, I glance over my shoulder. Liam is back on the couch, but his focus isn’t on the TV or his phone. It’s on me.
Once the door clicks shut, I lean against it, exhaling heavily. My reflection in the mirror greets me with pink cheeks and wide eyes. “Get it together, Maggie,” I whisper to myself.
Opening the bag, I pull out a soft, oversized sweater and flannel pajama pants. It’s cozy and perfect, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of Liam going out of his way to make sure I was taken care of.
As I slip into the soft flannel pants and oversized sweater, the towel pooling forgotten at my feet, the warmth spreading through me has little to do with the clothes or the lingering heat from the shower.
It’s something deeper—something sparked by Liam’s gaze, the way his presence feels steady and consuming all at once.
But with every flicker of attraction, there’s an undercurrent of fear—a reminder of how easily it could all come crashing down. Liam isn’t Ryan. But the scars Ryan left behind? They’re still raw, still aching in moments like this.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, my damp hair curling around my face, my cheeks flushed pink.
Tears well in my eyes as my mind drifts back to the night everything fell apart.
Ryan sitting on the edge of our bed, his head in his hands as he confessed everything—the late nights, the gym trips, the showers he took the second he got home. I hadn’t noticed. Not a single thing.
Maybe it was because he still brought me flowers. He still packed us picnic lunches and took me on drives through the mountains. He still kissed me every morning before work and held me every night as we fell asleep. I thought those things meant love. Meant that we were okay.
But we weren’t. I wasn’t enough. And I hadn’t even realized it until he told me. Until he told me about her. About the baby they were having together.
My chest tightens as I wipe at the tears threatening to spill. The ache of that betrayal is still there, sharp and bitter. Ryan was my safety net, the one person who promised forever and I felt like he meant it. Then, he took a match to everything we had together and burned it to the ground.
But Liam… Liam isn’t promising me forever.
He isn’t offering me grand declarations or sweeping me off my feet with empty vows.
He’s just here. Present. Real. And for some reason, the idea of one night—just one moment where I let myself feel instead of overthink—feels safer than the false promise of a lifetime with someone who might blindside me again.
I inhale deeply, brushing my hair back from my face. My reflection stares back, a mixture of resolve and hesitation etched into every line of my expression. One night. That’s all it is. One night to feel something other than fear, other than doubt.
I grab the handle of the door, taking another deep breath before stepping out into the room.
Liam’s broad shoulders shift as he stares out at the swirling snow, his silhouette cast in soft shadows from the dim light outside. I take a step closer, studying the way his body looks so effortlessly strong yet relaxed. Tall, lean, powerful. Beautiful, really.
When I told him he was handsome earlier, I meant every word.
“Stop staring,” he says without turning around, his voice teasing but low enough to send a small shiver down my spine.
“Can’t help it,” I respond with a grin he can’t see. “You’re so pretty.”
He chuckles, the sound deep and warm, like a fire crackling in the hearth. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me pretty before.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I say, stepping closer, just enough to catch the soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glances back at me.
He exhales, his attention drifting back to the window. “It’s really coming down out there. You can barely see the cars anymore.”
“Good thing we’re safe in here,” I whisper, soft but steady as the space between us seems to shrink.
He turns then, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something, but then—darkness.
The lights flicker out, plunging the room into a velvety blackness. My breath hitches, and I hear Liam’s soft chuckle in the stillness.
“Looks like the storm isn’t playing around,” he murmurs. “We’re going to need a fire.”
Before I can respond, his hand finds mine, his touch steady and grounding as the room feels suddenly vast and intimate all at once.
“Guess we will,” I say.
Together, we stand in front of the window, our hands joined as the world outside blurs into a wash of white and grey. The storm rages, but here, in this moment, everything feels quiet. Simple. Safe.
For the first time in a long while, I feel myself letting go.