Page 20 of Landing Liam

“And if I don’t?” I raise an eyebrow, already exasperated.

“I guess I’ll be the new owner of an old bag.”

“Really?” I scrunch my nose, though the way my stomach flips betrays me. “You’re weird.”

“That’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me,” he says nonchalantly, flashing a grin. “And hopefully the last.”

“Listen, Liam,” I say, planting my hands on my hips. “I’m not interested into whatever it is you’re trying to insinuate.”

“Insinuate?” He smirks.

“I’m here for one reason—to do my job. When it’s done, I’m going home, hopefully to a nice promotion.”

“First question,” he says, ignoring my speech entirely. “What do you do for a living?”

I hold out my hand. “Give me my bag, please.”

“This bag?” He points to it, all faux innocence.

“Yes. That one.”

“What do you do for a living?” A slow smile stretches across his face.

“I’m a writer,” I reply, my patience wearing thin.

“Is that the truth?” His eyes narrow like he’s trying to catch me fibbing.

“Yes.”

“What’s your last name?”

“We’ve already established I’m ‘Just Maggie.’”

“Everyone has a last name,” he points out, undeterred.

“Prince doesn’t,” I say smartly. “Neither does Sia.”

“Stage names.” He scoffs. “Last name or no bag.”

“Cooper,” I finally admit through gritted teeth. “Now, what’s the last stupid question?”

He leans in slightly, his voice dipping into a low drawl. “Will you have a drink with me tomorrow night after the competition?”

I let out a harsh laugh. “So, my choices are to lose my bag, or win and get drinks with you?”

“Seems fair,” he says with a shrug, his grin maddeningly unapologetic. “I didn’t have to rescue your bag, you know. Do you have any idea what it took to find you? Calling every hotel on the mountain, sweet-talking the front desk to get your room number—Harvey, by the way, now expects me to help him find ‘hot chicks.’”

“Such a tragic ordeal,” I say, faking a yawn.

“Come on, Maggie No Last Name,” he says, stepping closer, his tone softening but still teasing. “One drink. That’s all I’m asking.”

His scent—cedar, citrusy, and something undeniably him—wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I have to fight to stay steady.

“Don’t make me beg,” he says as he leans in just enough to make my pulse race, “I will beg.”

“Doubtful,” I say, though it comes out more breathy than I’d like. Damn him and that smug smirk.

“Oh, I will,” Liam says, his grin widening. “So, yes to drinks?”