Page 3 of Landing Liam

“Maybe Mom’s right,” I cringe. “Maybe I am ready to settle down.”

Iz pats my shoulder with her free hand. “Well, grab that potato peeler, big shot. Lesson one starts now.”

“I can cook,” I grumble, rolling my eyes.

“Sure, sure,” she laughs. “Sometimes things fall apart so better things can fall together, right?”

I groan. “You stole that from Mom’s entryway sign.”

Iz shrugs, unbothered. “Hey, just because it’s from a sign doesn’t mean it’s not true. Look at me—I thought my life was over when my first marriage fell apart. But here I am: three kids, a tech business, and… well, the mansion.”

I smirk. “Right, the mansion.”

She huffs. “It’s not that big.”

“You have two wings in your house, Iz. It’s a mansion.”

“Well, we need two wings,” she whispers conspiratorially as if her mother-in-law might be lurking nearby. “She lives with us, remember?”

“Whatever you say, Iz,” I laugh. “Whatever you say.” And for the first time in a while, I feel just a little bit lighter, reminded that maybe there’s more to me than the mountains and the medals.

Chapter Two

Maggie

“Cooper!”

Janowicz’s voice booms through the office, jolting me as I take the last sip of my coffee. Grabbing my notebook, I brace myself. Janowicz has been a shouter from day one. At first, I chalked it up to nerves or some kind of eccentric, Editor-in-Chief intensity. Turns out, he’s just half-deaf, with zero filter to match.

“Coming!” I yell back, weaving through a maze of desks until I reach his office.

“Faster!” he snaps.

I slide into the chair opposite him, trying to catch my breath without making it obvious. Janowicz—a wiry, bald-headed guy with cheeks as round as the clock on the wall—leans back, studying me. Between his chain-smoking with Marnie, our mailroom clerk, and his blunt honesty, he’s as rough as they come. But he's also the best in the business.

“I’m out of town for a little bit,” he announces, his voice gravelly. “You’re in charge.”

“Me?” I blink, caught off guard.

He waves a hand as if I should know better. “Don’t look so surprised, Cooper. We both know you run circles around these amateurs.”

“They’re journalists,” I say, hiding a smile.

“Right, right.” He waves me off again, then tosses a folder in my direction. “You’re also covering the snowboarding competition in Windwood next weekend.”

“Where?” I frown, reaching for the folder.

“Some mountain town east of Boulder,” he grumbles. “Or maybe north? Hell if I know.”

I flip open the folder, catching sight of a press badge. “Why are we covering a snowboarding event in a town you can’t even point out on a map?”

“The Pine Cone Chronicle covers everything, Cooper. Especially when there’s a juicy story attached.” He raises his brows meaningfully. “Doping allegations.”

Now he has my attention. “Doping?” I lean forward, intrigued. “There’s a real story here, isn’t there?”

“I got us a press badge,” he says, unfazed. “You’ll need to cover the cost of gas and your hotel, but we’ll reimburse you once it runs.”

“Or you could just hand over your company card,” I counter smoothly, “and I’ll turn in the receipts whether the story breaks or not.”