Page 4 of Landing Liam

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nice try, Cooper. No.”

“Had to ask.” I shrug, slipping out the press badge and a photo. I study the face in the picture—golden-brown hair, dark eyes like melted chocolate, and an easy grin that looks practiced but genuine.

“Liam Thompson,” Janowicz says, watching my reaction. “Got a couple of Olympic medals.”

I tilt my head. “How many?”

“One gold, two silver,” he replies.

I glance up at him. “I don’t know the first thing about snowboarding.”

“Better get researching then,” he says, raising a brow.

I slip the picture back into the folder, rising from my seat. “Where are you going anyway?”

His gaze shifts for a moment, something softening in his normally sharp expression. “Family emergency. My sister’s husband passed. She needs help getting things in order.”

For a second, I’m at a loss. Janowicz doesn’t do “soft” or “helpful.” “That’s... really nice of you.”

He narrows his eyes. “I have my moments, Cooper.”

“Few and far between.” I grin.

“Get back to work,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile.

I return to my desk, only to find Odie perched on the edge, his shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes. He pushes it back, his expression curious. “What did Janowicz want?”

I wave the folder in front of him. “A story.”

“Of course he did,” he sighs. “Why do you always get the best ones?”

I smirk. “Because I’m the best.”

Odie huffs. “Can’t argue with that. More of your stories get printed than anyone else’s.” He glances at the folder. “So, what’s it about?”

“An Olympian with doping allegations. I’m heading to Windwood to check it out.”

His eyes light up. “Mind if I tag along?”

“No.” I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t have time to babysit.”

“One time,” he groans. “One time I get drunk, and suddenly I’m untrustworthy.”

“You were trying to make out with a plant, Odie.”

“Once!” he protests, as Trinity, our tall, no-nonsense copy editor, joins the conversation.

“It was enough to scar us all,” she quips, casting him an unimpressed glance.

Odie’s expression shifts to his usual smirk. “Good to know I’ve made a lasting impression, Trin.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, crossing her arms.

“Why not?” he challenges.

Trinity sighs. “Because my college boyfriend used to call me Trin, and I’d rather not be reminded of him every time you open your mouth.”

“Sucks to be that guy,” Odie mutters, wounded.