Chapter 8

H e should have taken Maggie up on her offer of a day off after driving home from California. But if he said that, she would give him a look that clearly said I told you so , and Liam's head was still spinning from the weekend too much to deal with that. He wanted to be curled up on the couch pretending to read while making plans for his first night with Jasmine—their first planned night anyway—but, instead, he was trying not to fall asleep while sourcing options for a client. An incredibly picky client.

Liam read over the criteria they'd sent over for their coffee table again and sighed.

1) Authentic mid-century modern

2) Mint condition, no discoloration, or scratches

3) Rosewood or Walnut

"They're asking for a unicorn," he groaned, and Maggie chuckled from the other end of the couch.

"The Lavines just like the illusion of control. They care more about things looking good than you actually ticking all their boxes. Try to find a couple pieces that meet most of the criteria and then some that don't, but look nicer. I guarantee they'll pick the latter."

This was the third project the Lavine family had hired Maggie Makes Home for, so Liam trusted that Maggie knew them well enough to know what she was talking about.

"Thanks," he replied with a grateful smile.

He could have worked from home, but he was too easily distracted. Maggie gave the team the option of working from wherever they liked when they weren't on site or filming, but they all had keys to the townhouse she'd converted into an office and studio and could work there if they wished.

At his dad's request, neither he nor Maggie brought work home with them, so she spent most days at the office when she wasn't getting her hands dirty on a project. There were several desks and a couple of dedicated office rooms for anyone looking for a quiet workspace, but they mostly gathered in the comfy living room to work on their laptops.

Occasionally, Maggie would head outside to check on a piece she was working on, adding layers of paint or sanding things down. When he needed to stretch his legs or get some fresh air, Liam would join her. It was a far cry from the dark backrooms at the museum—sometimes, in the darker months, he'd work Monday through Friday without seeing daylight. This was so much better, even if he was exhausted from the weekend.

Liam closed his laptop and slid it onto the side table, stretching and yawning. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and dropped it on the arm of the couch. The coziness was definitely making him sleepier.

He and Jasmine had left California after a room service breakfast, since he hadn't wanted to bump into any of his old friends. He'd had enough looks of surprise mingled with pity to last him a lifetime. They'd taken turns driving up the coast, stopping at a diner for lunch and a drive-thru for dinner, and made it back to Seattle just in time for the sun to sink behind the horizon.

Liam had dropped Jasmine off at her place, ignoring her continued protests when he'd insisted on carrying her bags upstairs, and kissed her on the forehead before dragging himself back out to the car. Exhaustion weighed him down the whole way home, and every step toward his bed had felt like a mile. But instead of falling asleep the second his head hit the pillow, he'd lain awake for hours, with one thing on his mind.

Jasmine.

Or rather, the deal he'd struck with her. What the fuck had he been thinking? He hadn't been, clearly, but any chance of him being sensible had vanished the second she'd explained why she'd faked it. Liam had never had any kind of sexual arrangement with anyone. Before he and India had gotten together, he'd dated regularly, like most people did in their twenties. After India, once he'd been ready, he'd opted for more casual hook ups, avoiding spending more than one night with anyone. It was easier that way .

He couldn't imagine a worse person to start something like this with than his dad's assistant—and Maggie's best friend—who he'd been harboring a secret crush on for two fucking years. Shit.

But he also couldn't imagine that one night being all they ever had. He just couldn't. He would be replaying the memories of her lips on his until he saw her again—while kicking himself for setting the I don't come until you do rule. There was edging, and there was edging . He must be a goddamned masochist.

But he and Jasmine would figure it out together. And he'd get to spend more time with her, which was quickly becoming his favorite thing to do. It was a win-win in his eyes.

"I'm going to make more tea. Do you want anything?" he asked as he stood up, but Maggie said nothing. When he turned to her, she was staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Jazz has been my best friend for a long time," she said, doing nothing to help his confusion.

"Yes…"

"Which means, even if she wasn't the only person you spent the weekend with, I'd recognize her handy work."

She nodded toward his now-exposed collar bone. Liam frowned, peering down. "What are you—oh." He turned to the mirror and paused at the purple and red bruise decorating his skin. She'd given him a hickey. Jesus. Why was that so hot?

"It's not what it looks like," he said quickly.

"It looks like a hickey."

Liam grimaced. "Ah. Well, in that case, it does appear to be what it looks like."

He absolutely did not want to have this conversation with Maggie. Jasmine probably would want to talk to her about it, and he had no problem with that, but that didn't mean he wanted to. But Maggie closed her laptop, which meant they were talking whether he wanted to or not.

"I take it you haven't spoken to Jazz?" he asked, and she shook her head. "And I also take it you're not going to let this go until we talk about it?"

"You know me so well."

Liam snorted, pulling his phone out to check the time. "It's basically lunchtime. Should we talk over lunch?"

"God yes, I'd kill for Italian food."

"That works for me."

Maggie jumped up and headed for the door, sliding her feet into the paint-flecked sneakers she kept there.

Liam started to put his phone back in his pocket when it lit up.

Am I the only one struggling not to fall asleep today?????

A smile stretched over his face as he read her text. He was suddenly a little less tired.

Definitely not the only one. Pretty sure I've sprained my jaw from yawning so much.

I'm going to be good and not make a joke about sprained jaws here.

Actually…

Speaking of, when are you coming over?

What a segue.

When do you want me?

Days ending with Y?

Shut up.

Stop being so charming.

It's unbearable.

But also I like it.

Tomorrow?

Usually, when people sent every sentence as a new message, instead of just writing a paragraph, it pissed him off, but Jasmine sent them in such quick succession that he was never waiting more than a couple of seconds for the next. She texted like she spoke; like she had too much to say and not enough time to say it. It was adorable.

"Do you want me to pretend you're not just standing there giving my best friend heart eyes through the phone?"

Liam looked up at Maggie and frowned. "I'm a thirty-seven-year-old man. I'm not giving heart eyes . What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Wow. You have never sounded more like your dad."

"Are you calling me old?"

"Are you calling my husband old?"

"Yes, Maggie. Your husband is old."

She glared at him. "Liam."

"What?"

"Lunch. Talking. My best friend giving you a hickey. Remember?"

"Right. Yeah, give me a sec."

He looked back at his phone. Tomorrow? He swallowed.

Tomorrow sounds good.

He hesitated before sending another.

You gave me a hickey, by the way.

That's hot.

It is. But Maggie saw it and she knows it was you. Pretty sure she's going to grill me over lunch.

Better you than me!

Give stepmommy my best

Enjoy your lunch :)

Liam's heart thudded. A smiley face. That's all it took for him to want to call off work, swing by his dad's office, and steal her away.

Thanks, darling. Have a good day :)

He locked his phone and tucked it in his back pocket, looking up to find Maggie watching him with a concerned expression.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "You're going to make me my best friend's stepmother-in-law, aren't you?"

M aggie took a long sip of her wine and set it down. Another perk of not working at the museum anymore: a glass of wine here and there with lunch. Working lunches , Maggie called them. They usually followed meetings with difficult clients or supplier fuck ups.

"So," she said, folding her hands in front of her. "How was the wedding? I know seeing them must have been hard."

Liam paused, his glass an inch from his lips. He'd been expecting her to jump straight into a conversation about Jasmine.

He took a swig, then swirled the Pinot Grigio around the glass. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. The wedding itself was really fucking tacky, and India and Bart… I don't know, I guess seeing them together just made me realize that they're not really the kind of people I want in my life anyway."

"It's their loss," she said, her sapphire eyes flashing with ire for India and Bart. God help them if they ever met.

"It's taken me a while to figure it out, but I wasn't happy back then. I was just forcing myself into a mold, trying to be more like the people I grew up with, and that's not who I am."

Maggie reached across the table and squeezed his hand once. "I'm proud of you. And at least you got a good dinner out of going."

"True," he agreed with a laugh.

"Did you speak to them?"

"Yeah. I was trying to avoid them, but they found Jazz when she was coming back from the restroom and I figured I shouldn't leave her to deal with them alone." He'd considered it, but he was sure that would have worked out worse for India and Bart than Jazz. "She was amazing," he admitted, feeling his cheeks warm. "She's so effortlessly petty."

Maggie laughed, rolling her eyes. "She's always been like that. I know she did something to my ex, but I haven't been brave enough to ask what. "

"Thank God she's on our sides."

Maggie raised her glass. "Cheers to that."

A server bustled over, setting down plates of steaming pasta, and Liam's mouth watered as he breathed in the smoky mushrooms, garlic, and onion in his tagliatelle.

Maggie hummed happily around a forkful of her lunch, chasing it with a sip of wine before saying, "So… Jazz."

He took his time, twirling his pasta around his fork before answering. "What do you want to know? I assume you don't want details."

"Christ, no."

Liam hid his smile behind his pasta as he took a bite. Had Maggie noticed how quickly she'd adopted a little bit of an Irish lilt from his dad with certain words?

"We're just… having fun," he offered, the explanation sounding half-hearted even to his ears.

"So you're sleeping together. Casually." She raised a brow.

"I guess you could call it that."

"Hmm."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Casual sex didn't exactly stay casual for me and your dad," she pointed out, and Liam grimaced. He didn't want to think about that.

"We're not you."

"No, you're not. But I also don't believe it's casual for you. I've seen how you look at her—how you've always looked at her. The only person who doesn't seem to know how you feel about Jazz is Jazz. "

Jesus, had he really been that transparent? Fuck. "Okay, yes. I have feelings for her. I like spending time with her," he said, carefully. "And by some miracle she likes spending time with me, so?—"

"Whoa. What does that mean? Why wouldn't she like spending time with you?" Maggie looked personally offended on his behalf that anyone might not enjoy spending time with him. But Liam still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that Jasmine was on board with his proposition.

"Nothing. I'm just saying we like spending time together and we're having fun right now. That's all."

"I don't want to see you get your heart broken again," Maggie said quietly, her face full of concern. A warm feeling settled over him.

"That's not going to happen. You don't have to worry."

"Of course I'm going to worry. I love you both."

"And we both love you. But it's going to be fine. I promise."

Maggie's concerned expression didn't shift, but she nodded, sitting back in her chair. "I have an awful feeling I'm about to learn a lot more about you than I want or need to know. You know Jazz isn't going to keep the details to herself."

He winced. As much as Liam didn't want Maggie knowing anything, he hoped Jasmine would tell her, if only so she finally told her about her lack of orgasms. "Let's just agree that you and I will never talk about it."

"Deal. As long as you're happy."

"I am. I promise." He'd be happier tomorrow, when he'd finally see Jasmine. A day apart already felt like a year.

I don't think it's casual for you.

When it came to Jasmine, casual wasn't an option.