Page 117 of Not That Impossible

“I’m glad one of us does,” I muttered.

“Oh, I’m confident we both do.”

I didn’t quite know what to say to that, or how to process the strange charge between us. The air was heavy. My skin prickled. It felt like we were having sex, but we were justtalking. I grabbed my glass of water and chugged it, slowing down when I took in the way he was watching me.

I dropped my gaze as my cheeks scorched. For lack of anything better to do, I kept drinking until I’d drained the whole pint. I set the glass down with a click.

“You’re thirsty,” he said.

“Lotta salt in that pizza.”

“Do you want more, Jasper?”

I wasn’t imagining the suggestiveness in his voice, was I?

“Pizza?” I said, twisting the glass one way and then the other, avoiding looking up. “Or water?”

“Anything.”

“Water, please,” I croaked, and shoved the glass at him.

Luckily he caught it before I skated it clean off the island.

Okay, that was it. I flopped forward and dropped my head on my arms. “Liam,” I complained. “I don’t know what’s happening.” I snorted with surprise when a warm hand closed over the back of my neck. Liam put the refilled water glass down beside me, then pulled me up to sitting. He used my shoulders to turn me on the swivel stool until I was facing him.

He braced a hand either side of me. I was hemmed in, caught between his arms with the island at my back. I gazed up at him.

“Do you have any more questions about the article or the case?” he said.

“No. I’m almost sure Ray won’t sue—”

“He won’t.”

“And I quit as a journalist earlier today, so. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Liam seemed surprised. “You quit?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’m very good at it, you know?”

“You…” He broke off. “Hmm. You’re not bad at it. You’re great at telling a story. Very vivid.”

I sighed.

“You shouldn’t quit, Jasper. This is a hiccup. A blip. Everyone has to learn on the job.”

“Are youencouragingme?” I said with a smile.

He pushed my hair back. It was a gesture of pure tenderness. My hair was too short to need pushing back. “I’m giving it a shot. I want you to be happy.”

Once I’d gathered my wits after that bewildering statement, I said, “It doesn’t make me happy. Liam, I almost died writing those articles.”

He laughed. “What?”

I nodded seriously. “It’s insane. I can run a marathon in just over three hours.”

“That’s fast,” he said faintly.

“I know. I’ve also entered and placed in an Iron Man competition every year since I turned twenty. I can dig deep. Push past the pressure. Find that little bit extra to power over the finish line. Finish lines are child’s play for me. Deadlines, though?” I shuddered. “Also, it turns out I like writing stories. Not real life.”

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