“Don’t bother,” I told him and kept walking. There were just two more blocks before I got home.
“Sorry,” he said, annoyingly not even a little bit out of breath when I had to slow my own breathing to hide it.
“You’re sorry? Great. Thanks.” Now I had the biggest man slut in all of Pilgrim feeling sorry for me. Pity.
“Stop.” Liam’s big hand dwarfed my shoulder when it landed and my legs stopped moving immediately. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you but…,” I watched closely as a man who usually said exactly what he meant, struggled to find the words hew as looking for.
“I don’t need you to sugarcoat anything for me, Liam. I already know what you think of me, so honesty would be appreciated.” Even if it hurt my feelings, I’d rather know the truth.
“First of all, you don’t know a damn thing about what I think of you. Except that you’re annoying and lookin’ good tonight.” He laughed when I rolled my eyes but as my feet started to move gain, Liam talked as he walked beside me. “You judge me Olive. A lot.”
“I do not,” I insisted but it was half-hearted because it was the truth and we both knew it. “Okay, maybe a little.”
His lips curled into a sly grin. “I get it, as a matchmaker it must kill you to see me so actively not looking for forever. But my point is that no one as passionate as you are about, hell everything, could possibly be frigid. Let me guess, the blond douche you’re with?”
I nodded, ignoring the urge to argue that Wyatt wasn’t a douche when today he’d shown his proclivity for douche-like behavior. “He broke up with me. Called me frigid.”
“And you believed him,” he said in a solemn tone.
“No.” Yes, I absolutely believed him. A little. “I know he said it to make himself feel better about the breakup, but it must mean I didn’t, you know, satisfy him. Right?” I shook my head and groaned. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this, of all people.”
“Because I’m such a sex god?”
His words teased a laugh out of me when I didn’t want to laugh and I was grateful. “No, because you’ve probably never been with a woman not skilled in the art of pleasure.”
“Thanks for that, but it’s not true.”
“You don’t have to spare my feelings, I’ve seen your women. They are…very sexy.”
“And some of them think sexy is all you have to be, but nothing sucks more than a woman who doesn’t participate. A shy woman can be coaxed out of her shell, you just have to find what motivates her.”
I looked up at Liam, wondering if he was telling the truth. “Do you really believe that?”
“Damn straight. Sometimes it’s hotter to get the shy ones all riled up. You never know what could happen.” The heat that flared in his eyes was genuine, and dammit it was incredibly hot. “That’s half the fun.”
I barked out a laugh as we rounded the corner to my block. “Really? I thought it was the whole slot A into tab B thing that men appreciated.”
Liam laughed again, and it was deep and rich and intoxicating. “And you call yourself a professional romantic?”
“No. I call myself a matchmaker, helping people find love. How they express that love is up to them as a couple.”
“You don’t offer any advice? I mean sexual incompatibility can really affect a relationship, Olive.” The way he said my name, half professional and half exasperated, drew me in so far I had to stop myself and take a step back.
“How would you know? Word around town is that you’re anti-relationship.”
“Don’t listen to the gossip, Olive.” Liam stopped in front of my house. “You should use that security light. It’s for your safety.” He pointed at the light I’d forgotten to flip on when I rushed out of the house this morning.
I sighed and nodded. “I know. A small lapse on my part. Thanks for the walk home, Liam.” Before my sentence was complete, Liam had his big, overly warm hand on my lower back and he was pushing me up the stairs.
“I’ll make sure you get inside, safe and sound.”
“Navy SEAL til you die?”
His lips twitched with amusement. “Something like that.”
Liam’s words, spoken in that alluring deep tone of his made it abundantly clear why every single and divorced and widowed woman in town wanted to know if he was on Time For Love’s roster. The man was walking, talking sex on a stick. And he doesn’t want anything from you, a slightly tipsy voice said in my head, sparking a tiny ember of an idea. “Want some whiskey and apple crumble?”
He blinked and looked down at me in surprise. “Sure. I’ve got a long flight in the morning anyway.”