Page 4 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

“Oh,” I say, not sure how to respond. I don’t really have a point of reference for this; my family is big, kind, and welcoming. They can be a little too much sometimes, but I love them.

"And for what it's worth," he adds, glancing toward the house before locking eyes with me again, "you’re too good for Chris."

The statement hits me like a splash of cold water, shocking and unexpectedly invigorating. For a moment, I’m speechless, unsure of how to respond to such blunt honesty.

It's not something I'm used to hearing, especially tonight when I've felt anything but good enough. But coming from Liam—this stranger who doesn’t seem to care about fitting into the pristine image of the Walton family—his declaration resonates deep within me. It's as if he sees something in me that I've been too blind or too afraid to acknowledge myself.

"Thanks," I murmur, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The cold is starting to seep through my dress, making me shiver, but there's something about Liam's presence that offers an odd kind of warmth.

He nods, looking at me with an intensity that's both unnerving and thrilling. "You're smarter than you think you are, Shiloh. I could tell just from the way you spoke about those novels back there." His voice is low and earnest as if he's sharing a secret meant only for me.

I'm taken aback by his comment, not used to such direct compliments, especially not on my intelligence.

"Really?" I ask, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks despite the chill in the air.

"Really," he confirms with a half-smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes but still manages to stir something inside me.

Our breaths mingle in the frigid air, visible puffs of white drawing us closer in the vast, snowy expanse of Chris's parents' backyard. Flakes begin to drift in earnest down from the night sky, a gentle cascade that dusts our shoulders and hair.

I glance up at Liam, finding him already staring at me. His gaze lingers with a curiosity that feels like it's peeling back layers I didn't even realize I had. There's a charge in the air between us, an unspoken acknowledgment of something more than just shared antipathy for the dinner we escaped from.

"Snow," I say lamely, breaking the momentary silence as I watch the flakes settle on his thick, curly black hair.

"Yeah," he agrees softly, his hazel eyes never leaving mine. "First snow of the season."

There's a quiet beauty in the way the snowflakes catch in his lashes, how they seem to glitter against the backdrop of the dark evening. The cold nips at my skin, but standing this close to Liam, I can almost forget the chill, caught up instead in the warmth of the moment.

"Is there something on my face?" I ask, the words tumbling out as I can't help but notice the intensity of his gaze as it fixes not on my eyes, but slightly lower.

"Ah, just some wine right... there," Liam murmurs, his voice low and somehow intimate in the quiet of the falling snow.

He reaches out slowly… deliberately, and I feel a tiny jolt of surprise as his thumb grazes over my lower lip. There's a gentleness in his touch that contrasts sharply with the roughnessof his attitude, so different now from when we sat at that dinner table.

The moment hangs suspended between us, charged with an energy that crackles louder than the soft whispers of snowflakes touching down. I find myself unable to move, caught in the depth of his hazel eyes, which seem to hold me just as firmly as his hand on my face.

And then he’s moving closer… and I’m moving closer to him…

And he kisses me.

My mind races, firing off warnings and alarms, but they're all drowned out by the sheer immediacy of this contact, this bold declaration made without a single word spoken aloud. It's a kiss that seems to both question and answer everything at once, leaving me breathless and wanting in the space where our breaths mingle and warmth blooms despite the cold around us.

My heart hammers against my chest as if trying to break free, every beat echoing the intensity of Liam's lips on mine. It's nothing like I've ever experienced with Chris—this is raw and demanding, a silent conversation where every brush of skin feels like a paragraph, every gasp a punctuation mark in a story being written in real-time.

Liam's kiss ignites a fire within me that I didn't even realize was waiting for a spark, and I'm lost in the sensation, all thoughts of propriety burned away by this undeniable connection. My body responds with a fervor that matches his, hands finding their way to his shoulders, holding on as if he’s the only solid thing in a world suddenly tilting on its axis.

But reality intrudes in the form of the door creaking open behind us, and we pull apart sharply, two magnets repelled by an unseen force. There stands Chris, framed by the warm light spilling from inside, looking confused and slightly apologetic.

"Shiloh," he says, his voice a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had wrapped around Liam and me. "Can you please come back inside? I'm sorry."

The apology hangs awkwardly between us, a pale imitation of the intensity that just moments ago had felt so consuming. I nod mutely, still reeling from the kiss, the taste of wine and something indefinably Liam lingering on my lips.

I cast a last glance at Liam, and there's an entire conversation in that fleeting connection. His eyes, dark and inscrutable, hold mine with a weight that's as intoxicating as the wine he'd brought me.

I have to get out of here.

With effort, I tear my eyes away from his and step towards Chris. The cold air suddenly sharpens, biting at my skin where Liam's warmth had just been. The snowflakes, gentle a moment ago, now seem to sting as they land on my cheeks, reminding me of the reality I must face.

"Let's go back inside," I hear myself say, my voice steadier than I feel.

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