Page 16 of Snow Storm

Harley spun and saw Lyric leaning on the hostess desk and took a breath to recover his wits. “The…Christmas tree?”

“We’re putting it up this afternoon. Danny went out to get it an hour ago. The kitchen makes up a bunch of different flavors of cocoa, and there will be cookies and lights and stuff.”

“Carols?” he asked carefully. He’d rather die than sing in public, especially with how wound up he was right then.

Lyric shrugged. “Not usually. Last year, they played charades. This year, someone suggested poker.”

Harley couldn’t help a small laugh. “Your guests big gamblers?”

“Nah, this isn’t for guests. You’re one of, like, five here for the holidays, and actually, one couple is checking out tomorrow. This is mostly staff.”

He felt his ears heat. “Oh. I don’t want to intrude.”

Lyric stared at him another beat, then moved away from the desk and walked up to him. “You’re nice.”

He blinked. “Thank you?”

“I meant that you’renice. I wasn’t sure if you would be.”

He swallowed heavily. “Ah. You saw the video.”

“It was fucking wild,” Lyric breathed. “You straight up clocked that rando in the face.”

“He wasn’t some random person. He’s my agent.Wasmy agent.” His voice was hoarse. He hadn’t talked to anyone about this except his brother, and he hadn’t anticipated having this conversation with a total stranger. He wanted to cry a little bit.

“Ooh, you fired him? Good,” Lyric said, folding her arms over her chest. “That guy was a total dick.”

Harley tried to speak and choked on his words, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Uh, well, he fired me, technically. I wasn’t dropped from the agency though, no matter what the internet is saying.”

Lyric waved his statement away with a floppy hand. “Fuck the internet.” She cocked her head to the side. “I’ve read a bunch of your books, by the way.”

Oh. Great. He licked his lips. “Oh?”

“I’m only halfway through your second series though, and your website says you’re working on something else. Anything good?”

“My imposter syndrome says no, and my publisher hasn’t picked it up yet, so I have no idea,” he confessed.

She laughed like he was joking, and he didn’t know how to tell her he absolutely wasn’t. “Well, I bet it’s going to be amazing. Feel free to hit me up if you want someone to read it early. I know you probably have people for that, but you know. If you want one more totally random woman working as a ranch hand in the middle of nowhere…” She trailed off with a shrug, and he realized he liked her even more than he did when she showed him to his table.

Before he could tell her that he’d love her to read an early copy—when he had something worth reading—something clipped him on the side of the hip, and he lost his balance and went down. He hit the floor with his knees bent, the tile cruel, and he just managed to catch a glimpse of grey hair and a wheelchair moving faster than he’d ever seen one go.

And then the man was gone.

“Fuck,” Lyric whispered. “I need to—” And then she took off after the guy.

That was weird and kind of terrible, he thought as he climbed to his feet. His knees were throbbing, but the more hewalked, the better he started to feel. Nothing was broken. Maybe that was karma kicking him in the ass a little bit.

Checking his watch, he realized he had just enough time to get to the spa and check in, and he was glad about it because he wasn’t sure he could take any more weirdness.

Luckily, the spa wasn’t far, and it didn’t require him to leave the building like some of the other amenities did. He headed down a hallway with a slight decline, and the air got just a little cooler as he made his way down toward a set of wide-open double doors.

He was greeted with the same smell as the one in the lobby, just a little stronger. It was festive but not too much, and he appreciated it. There were also more holiday decorations than in the main area. Garlands were strung along the ceiling, and baubles hung a little haphazardly with no real pattern to them.

He had the irrational urge to pull a chair up to the wall and start spacing them out evenly. God, why was his brain like this?

Harley forced himself to approach the desk, where a younger man was sitting, playing something on a handheld game system. He jumped half a foot when Harley cleared his throat, but he didn’t look apologetic at all.

Harley didn’t really blame him. If there were only five guests in the entire resort and he was in charge of the massage section, he probably wouldn’t be paying much attention either.

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