Page 15 of So Bad It Must Be Good

He had rows and lines of tools meticulously organized. But sitting in the middle of one of the tables was a hunk of wood, as though started and left unfinished.

Which didn’t seem like Liam at all.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the . . . It was a bear. Like the one she’d bought the other day. A grinning bear, she was nearly certain.

“I was working before my brother so rudely interrupted me.”

His brother. Aiden. The one she was supposed to have had a drink with. She never would have gotten drunk with Aiden, she didn’t think.

Odd. Why would she behave differently around them? They were from the same family. She’d known them both forever. But she couldn’t imagine letting down her inhibitions with Aiden.

A few hours ago, she would have said the same for Liam, but here she was. Drunk and demanding.

She looked at the half-finished figure, then back at him. “It’s a bear.”

“Yes,” he replied, his grip on her arm loosening, his entire body almost leaning away from her. Interesting reaction, though she couldn’t quite figure out why. It felt almost as though the points in her brain wouldn’t connect. Some thoughts were stuck on one side; some observations were stuck on the other. None could bridge the gap to make sense.

“I want to touch it.”

He made an odd noise, maybe a squeak, if it had come out of a woman, but everything about his voice was so low and gravelly, nothing could quite be considered a squeak from him.

Still, he led her closer, and though his grip had loosened it was still there. Strong and sure, and she had no doubt that if she tripped or fell or, well, passed out—as seemed a little possible with the way her head was spinning—Liam would catch her. Keep her upright and safe.

Yes, she was very, very drunk. Still, she reached out for the half-formed bear and grabbed it. It fit into her palm, and unlike the one she’d bought the other day, this one was rough. It had most of the carving done, but it hadn’t been polished.

“It needs a mouth,” she said, running her finger over its face, surprised at the rough texture compared to the smooth gloss on the mouth of her figurine.

“I hadn’t decided on the expression yet.”

“It matches mine, except it has overalls instead of a dress. So it should be smiling. Grinning. Happy, naturally.”

“Maybe it should be scowling,” he muttered.

“No,” she argued. “They’re a couple. They should be happy. They match.” She glanced up at him, surprised to find him awfully close. His features seemed a little wavy, but his eyes were that unnatural, piercing blue.

And there was something in them, something she should recognize. Not just his usual gruff stiffness, but something . . . else.

She blinked, then squinted, staring hard and trying to put it together.

“Fine. It’ll be smiling. Happy?” He tried to move, maybe away from her, but she only sort of swayed with him. He was holding her arm after all.

“Can I have it?” she asked, curling her fingers around it. She didn’t know how to explain the desire to keep it, but she didn’t want to put it back down.

Something in his jaw tensed, and he gave an oddly stiff nod. “Fine. When it’s done, it’s yours.”

“Do I have to pay for it?”

His eyebrows drew together. “Are you, Kayla Gallagher, trying to stiff me out of more money this evening?”

He drew out her last name like the curse that it was, cutting through some of that dizzying buzz, leaving only a kind of vague nausea. But his blue eyes, so dang blue, were steady on hers, and his stare was just like his hand on her arm, a steadying, solid thing holding her up.

“My grandmother cut me off,” she said, not sure why, and it even sounded a little slurred to her ears.

His usually impassive—or grumpy—face widened then, shock, clear as day. “I’m . . . sorry.”

Her head fell back in an attempt to look him better in the eye, those perfect blue steady points of strength. “Funny, you’re the only one who’s said that to me.”

His eyebrows drew together, his lips softening into something almost like sympathy. Sympathy for her, Kayla Gallagher, who’d had so much handed to her and not been the least bit grateful for it.

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