“Ah,” I say. “The Stone curse, as Liam calls it.”
She chuckles softly, but her expression sobers. “Darling, tell him that falling in love isn’t a curse. When those Stones know, they know. And once they do, that’s it.”
I nod, but the lump forming in my throat makes it hard to speak.
Because that’s what hurts the most.
Sam and Charlie? They knew after two weeks.Two weeks, and they were already written in the stars.
Which means if Liam hasn’t figured it out by now, then he never will. And no matter how many almosts pass between us, they’ll never add up to a yes.
“Let’s make that cobbler,” I say with a smile on my face.
Several hours later, I show up at Liam’s house—a sprawling stone lodge that looks like it was carved straight from the mountain it leans against. It’s rugged, beautiful, and intimidating, just like the man who lives inside.
I let myself in, dropping my keys onto the table by the door and kicking off my boots.
“I brought cobbler,” I call out.
“In here,” Liam’s voice echoes from somewhere deeper inside.
I carry the still-warm dish into the kitchen, set it on the counter, and head off in search of him. He’s not in the massive living room, where the fire is still crackling low. Not in the library, where the walls are lined with worn leather and dust-sweet books I know he never touches. But then I hear music. A low thump of bass. And that’s when I find him. In the gym.
Holy.
Mother.
Of.
God.
He’s wearing a sleeveless white shirt that clings to his chest like a second skin, wet with sweat. His biceps flex as he racks a set of weights, and his hair is damp, curling at the edges like it does when he’s been outside too long or pushed himself too hard. His jaw is dusted with stubble and tight with focus, lips parted as he exhales. And those shorts? Perfect view of his ass.
I freeze in the doorway.
There should be a warning sign. Or at least a darker shirt.
He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I take a second to let myself look. Really look.
And that’s when he glances up.
Our eyes lock, and for a second, I swear I forget how to function.
But I blink. Breathe. Recover.
You are a professional, I remind myself.You brought cobbler. This is not a thirst trap. This is work-adjacent baked goods.
I lean casually against the doorframe like my pulse isn’t tripping over itself. “Well,” I say, tilting my head, “clearly I should’ve scheduled this cobbler drop-off between sets.”
Liam grins, wiping sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, which lifts just enough to reveal a flash of abs that probably belong in a museum.
“You could’ve waited until I finished,” he says, voice low and just a little rough. “But then I guess you’d have missed the show.”
My mouth goes dry. I clear my throat and straighten up, pretending to inspect the equipment like I’m here to do a gym audit.
“Nice setup. You ever use that treadmill, or is it just for decoration?”
He chuckles, tossing his towel over his shoulder. “Jealous?”
