Page 14 of Snow Storm

He pulled on a sweater with sleeves that hung past his hands and his most comfortable pair of jeans before he made his way downstairs. He was following the smell of baked goods and bacon before he realized that he was on his own. He’d never done that before—eaten breakfast by himself at a restaurant. Hell, he’d never eaten any meal by himself at a restaurant.

He’d been a loner most of his life, but he never ventured out unless he was part of at least a duo, if not a group of friends.

Did that make him pathetic? He had to believe there were others out there just like him.

He was too hungry to care though. His appetite seemed to have made a raging comeback now that he’d had a chance to get some actual sleep without worrying there was someone waiting outside his building with a copy of the video. He still had a lot to deal with, but he was feeling more like himself.

He wasn’t inaccessible, and he would have to talk to his agency and his publisher at some point, but for now, he could pretend. It was a holiday bubble that would keep him protected for a few weeks, and then he could go on disaster management.He could only hope someone out there did something worse and people would start to forget.

He wasn’t really a man who believed in miracles, but he supposed if he was ever going to believe, the holidays would be the time for it.

“Table for one?” a voice asked.

Harley hadn’t realized he’d reached the restaurant. The woman at the counter didn’t look like she belonged as a hostess. She was in dirty jeans and muddy boots, and her dark curls looked like she’d been out in the snow with the way it was dripping all over her shoulders.

But maybe that was part of the whole mountain ambiance.

“Yes. It’s just me.”

She gave him a long look, and there was a spark in her eye that told him she knew exactly who he was. She’d been informed.

Or maybe she’d seen the video.

His cheeks heated as she showed him to a table next to a massive window. He sat as she offered the menu, and he leaned in toward the glass, but he couldn’t feel the cold in spite of the snow falling. He touched it to be sure.

“The glass is tempered. It stays really warm inside,” she explained.

He tried for a smile that felt like a grimace. He hated being so observed. “It’s nice. I really like it here.”

She dropped her forearm to the back of the chair beside him. “Me too. My wife worked here before me, and she convinced me to give it a shot. I was at this horse therapy ranch before Claude took me on, and while I loved it, it’s nice to be out here doing my own thing.”

“Claude?” he repeated, not really meaning to. It wasn’t like he was going to know any of these people after his two-week isolation was up.

The woman smiled and leaned heavier on the chair. “The owner. Real good guy. He and my wife are really good friends. They’re a lot quieter and less nosy than I am,” she added with a laugh.

Harley cocked his head to the side. “Does your wife happen to work the front desk?”

The woman’s grin went very wide. “Yeah, she’s the front desk manager. Aminah. You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

“She checked me in. I liked her a lot.”

The woman waggled her brows. “I bet you did.”

“What?No. I mean, yes. Well. Not…you know. I didn’t think she was—” He cleared his throat. “I’m gay. I wasn’t trying to pick up on her. She was just really kind when I was having a very, very bad day.”

“Don’t worry, I know what you meant. And I wouldn’t be offended if you did like her. Everyone does. That’s how she got me to marry her.”

“Lyric! Get away from my table!”

Harley jumped at a gruff voice, and the woman—Lyric—threw up her hands in frustration. “Get a hobby, Craig.”

“Go back to the desk,” he told her. He walked up—tall and handsome and young. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. “Sorry about her. She’ll harass all the guests until they’ve wasted away. Did you get a chance to look at the menu?”

Harley shook his head.

“I’ll give you some time. Everything here is good.”

Harley believed him. And he was pretty sure that statement applied to more than just the stuff that came out of the kitchen.

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