Page 19 of False Confidence

He 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?”

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