Page 78 of Our Radiant Embers

“What? A little window shopping has never hurt anyone.”

I grinned. “Baby—when it comes to you, any price tag is decorative.”

“Ah.” His smile held a touch of sadness. “But I don’t think it’s my wallet that would pay the price.”

And that, right there, was the problem, wasn’t it? I could offer too little and wanted too much, and he had lines he wouldn’t cross. Not even for me.

I thought about laughing it off. It would have felt cheap, though, even cowardly. So I ducked my head and focused on towelling off my chest and arms, the sea breeze stealing all warmth from my body. “If, you know—if things were different...”

“But they’re not,” Liam said simply.

I glanced at the glint of sunlight on his collarbone and away again. A sharp ache constricted my chest. “No. They’re not.”

We were quiet while we dried off, then wrapped the towels around ourselves and returned to the house that was just a short walk away, across a paved pedestrian path. It wasn’t a strained kind of silence, just thoughtful with a tinge of melancholy. Or perhaps that was just me.

Had I ever wanted something truly for myself? Not to impress anyone, not so someone else would be proud of me or feel better—no, simply because I wanted it.

I wanted Liam.

But on his terms. I didn’t want to be the thing he regretted a year from now, a lousy decision he’d made way back when.

I had nothing to offer him.

We split up to shower some warmth back into our bodies, and then Liam insisted on driving into town to get dinner ingredients.

“For cooking?” I asked, my incredulousness dramatically enhanced.

“Did you plan for us to starve?”

Now that was a stretch. The housekeeper had stocked the kitchen with basics like milk, bread, jam, cereal, and eggs—even I could use a toaster and a frying pan, no matter how much Liam might contest my claim. Come to think of it, did I really need a pan? It all came down to control, didn’t it?

“Like you’re a human barbecue?” Liam asked when I shared the thought.

“Yes.” I grinned. “Do you like your steak raw, medium, or well done?”

He studied me with a blend of amusement and consideration. “You really think you can do that?”

“You tell me.”

Roasting a steak to perfection would require a far more subtle touch than lighting a fire or even a candle—too much and we’d be eating charcoal, too little and it might still be mooing. Maybe that was why I hadn’t really heard of anyone using their fire magic that way. Or perhaps most people would consider it a waste of magic on something where perfectly acceptable tools existed?

Liam assessed me for another moment before he smiled quite suddenly. “Let’s get salmon. And some crackers as a plan B.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” I said sadly.

“Oh ye of little culinary skill,” he countered.

Touché.

I nodded. “Crackers it is.”

15

LIAM

The salmon turned out edible, if on the dry side. I could have done a better job if I’d put it in the oven, but Adam’s delight at cooking with a dash of magic outweighed any quibbles I might have had. Combined with rice and peas, the salmon also made for a healthier choice than last night’s pizza.

We wrapped ourselves in blankets and ate on the terrace, the sinking sun casting the world in golden hues. “Not bad for your first try,” I told Adam, and his laugh curled like the evening breeze.

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