Page 29 of Snow Storm

He took a deep breath, then lifted his fist and knocked. Seconds passed, and his anxiety grew. Then the door opened a tiny crack, and Harley’s face appeared in the gap.

“Hey.”

Claude raised a brow at him. “Bad time?”

Harley burst into soft laughter. “No. I was just in the middle of a panic attack about what to wear.” He opened the door a bit wider, and Claude could see he was in the resort robe. His hair was dry but freshly washed if the scent of the resort shampoo was anything to go by, and his face was clean and shaved.

“Do you want help?”

Harley’s cheeks pinked. “Um. I don’t…I haven’t…” He trailed off with a groan, slapping a hand over his face as he opened his door all the way and leaned against the frame. “I’m so sorry.”

Claude pushed forward a few inches and reached out, grabbing Harley’s free hand. He squeezed his fingers gently and waited until he’d captured his gaze to speak again. “What are you sorry about?”

“I’m making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. Or maybe I’m not making it a big enough deal? I don’t know! Is this…fuck. Is this a date?”

Oh. Yes, his intentions had been clear enough for Harley to think it was possible there was more than just dinner on the table, but Claude should have remembered he wasn’t an easy man to read. He swallowed heavily. “Would it be alright if I came in? We’re at very low occupancy, but I don’t think we should be overheard.”

“Oh God, yeah. Come on in.” Harley stepped all the way back and held the door open for Claude to push past him.

He rolled up to the dresser along the front wall, then set his brake and stood. His legs were a little steadier than before, and he walked to the armchair by the window and took a seat. Harley watched for a beat, then dropped down on the edge of the bed, primly fixing the hem of his robe, though the glimpse beneath that Claude caught was a set of green boxers with little candy canes on them.

He fought back a smile as he cleared his throat. “I don’t date,” he said, and when Harley flinched, he realized how that sounded, and he quickly shook his head. “I’m interested in you. I’m attracted to you. But I don’t date.”

Harley stared at him. “Okay. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. I’m not great with this sort of thing. I, uh…typically, people need to spell things out for me, and I know it’s really annoying and kind of kills the mood, but?—”

“I thought we might have sex,” Claude blurted. He didn’t regret his words because they were true, but he regretted the way they made Harley look like he’d just been slapped. “Forgive me.”

Harley blinked slowly, then burst into a full-body laugh that knocked him on his side. The sound was so contagious Claude felt himself chuckling along.

“Well, that clears that up,” Harley said once he’d regained his composure.

“I didn’t mean to be crass,” Claude said in a rush.

“No, no. That’s fine. I’d rather someone be crass but say it in a way I understand than try to sugarcoat it, and then I make a fool of myself because I got it wrong.”

Claude felt something twist in his stomach. “How often have people put you in that position?”

Harley sobered, and his ears reddened. “Enough times to know the feeling sucks.”

Claude fiddled with the silver band on his middle finger, twisting it to the right, then to the left as he gathered his thoughts. He wanted this to be sex. He couldn’t deny that. And he knew that more than sex would end in tears for them both.

But he also knew he wanted more than just a night. And more than just Harley’s body. Claude wanted to take a tiny piece of his heart with him. He couldn’t have all of him—their liveswere too different and too separate—but he wanted more than just a vague memory.

So maybe this could be something special. A night where he could show Harley he deserved better than all the people who had ever made him hurt or doubt himself.

“My story is long and complicated,” Claude began.

“Divorce, right? Cheating ex?”

Claude’s brows rose high on his forehead. “Someone has been telling on me.”

Harley shrugged and laughed under his breath. “Someone who cares about you. And I get it. You know I do. I kind of spilled my guts all over your massage room floor in the first five minutes that we met.”

Claude dipped his head in a nod. “I found my peace here. I’m finally as close to happy as I think I’ll ever be. So I can never make promises to anyone. You have a life, and eventually, you’ll go back to that.”

Harley swallowed thickly. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

“But maybe we can have this,” Claude said. He shifted to the edge of the chair and offered his hands. After a long moment of hesitation, Harley took them. His fingers were so soft, so warm. “A quiet Christmas. Two weeks—maybe a little longer—where we can get to know each other’s minds and bodies.”

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