Page 22 of Snow Storm

“I think I need to go have a lie-down,” Claude said, pushing away from the desk.

Dorsey looked sorry for taking the conversation where it had gone. “I’m gonna head out, then.”

Claude’s gaze snapped up. “Right. I forgot you’re not saying.”

“I wish I could, but I caught the forecast, and if I stay, I’ll get snowed in, and I won’t make my flight. You know Mam will never forgive me if I’m not there.”

Claude sighed. “I’m sorry. Is she angry at me for not coming?”

Dorsey snorted. “In the—how old are you now? Sixty-seven. Sixty-eight?”

“Forty-nine,couchon.”

Dorsey threw his head back with a laugh. “In theforty-nineyears she’s been inviting you, she’s never expected you to actually show up.”

Claude wasn’t sure how that made him feel. A little bad because it wasn’t as though he actively disliked that side of his family, but grateful he could be true to himself because travel for him was a massive pain in the ass, and the last thing he wanted was to be trapped for two weeks with well-meaning relatives.

“Don’t worry,” Dorsey said, crouching down to throw an arm around Claude’s shoulders, “I won’t have too much fun without you, and I’ll bring you back a lot of sweets.”

“Thanks,” Claude said dryly. “Make them boozy.”

Dorsey winked as he straightened up. “You know it. Good luck with the hot author. I expect regular updates, especially if it gets spicy.”

“Expect nothing,” Claude warned him because that’s exactly what he was going to get.

Chapter 7

Harley

It didn’t take longfor Harley to get comfortable. It was clear several members of the staff knew who he was—likely from the video and not from his books—but they were kind about it. No one brought it up, he hadn’t been asked to talk about it, and apart from a few side-eyes, he didn’t feel overly judged. It was the best he could have hoped for.

His body was tense again by the next morning though. The massage had been wonderful—the masseur even better—but it hadn’t cured him of the pain he was holding in his body. He still had tiny sparks of mortification coursing through his veins every time he thought about Ethan.

He had no regrets about walking away from the reader, but to lose control like that? It wasn’t just humiliating—it was terrifying that he didn’t know himself well enough to have stopped it before his fist flew. More than one person had told him that Ethan deserved it, and maybe he had. But Harley never wanted to be that man.

Now, he was fighting the urge to sell everything he owned and become a total hermit so he’d never be in that position again. He could do it. If he lived small and frugal, he couldstretch his investment and his inheritance for the rest of his natural life. And that was starting to sound pretty good.

Wes would likely never forgive him, but it did mean he’d never risk having to run into Darren ever again, and that was a giant bonus. He felt a little like he was losing his mind.

He’d been cooped up in silence for too long. He’d taken breakfast in his room that morning and had intended on staying there until his massage, but he realized being alone with his thoughts was not the best idea. His body was tense and uncomfortable, and while it was colder than Satan’s balls outside, a walk sounded nice. And, at the very least, the cold would distract him from the hurricane of emotions he was currently fighting off.

As he made his way to the back doors and toward the hiking path, he was almost knocked to his knees by a wave of grief. He missed his dad. He would have loved the ranch. He would have been making friends with every member of the staff and booking every spa service they had. He would have said yes to Christmas tree lighting and holiday cookies and charades. He would have been able to pull Harley out of his head.

He would have had all the right words to make Harley feel like he wasn’t a total disaster.

Maybe. Probably.

There was a chance Harley was idolizing his father a bit more than he should have been now that he was gone, but he couldn’t help it. His father was the only person who had ever believed in him. Losing that had been hard. He could live without having Darren in his life. He knew he was better off without him.

But Darren’s exit wasn’t the reason for the gaping hole in his chest.

Turning the corner, Harley stepped off the deck and into the snow. It wasn’t deep enough to need snowshoes, but it wasbright enough for his shades. He dug them out of his pocket, and when he could see again, he realized the path he was on was going to take him toward a massive barn.

Cattle, the woman from the front desk had told him. He couldn’t remember what kind until he got a little closer to the fence and saw several big, fluffy, amber-colored heads poking up from one of the snowbanks.

“Oh my God, is that—” he said aloud.

“Highland cattle,” came a voice to his right.

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