Page 71 of Snow Storm

Claude laughed as he turned back and gave his wheels a hard push. “Don’t worry. The weather here is lovely more than it isn’t. But that’s also when my workload gets harder.”

Harley caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. “Is that your way of telling me not to expect you to have a lot of time for me during the busy season?”

Claude bit his lip. “It’s not that simple, but…perhaps. Yes.” He fell quiet as they reached the barn, and he stood up, using the chair to support himself as he opened the lock and swung the door inward. Settling back in his chair, he pushed forward, and Harley followed him into the warmth of the shelter.

The cows were out, but the smell was pungent and overwhelming. After a few breaths, he sneezed four times in succession.

“I might be allergic,” he sniffed.

Claude pulled his glasses off and rolled toward him. “We won’t stay long. I just need to check their stalls.” Tugging on Harley’s hand, he pulled him down for a kiss. “I will make time for you, by the way. No matter how busy I am. I just worry you’ll feel neglected.”

Harley sighed and pressed their foreheads together before his back protested at his position, and he straightened up. “You worry now, but wait until I’m eyeballs-deep in trying to meet a deadline and forget to eat, let alone remember there’s another person in the house that might need some attention.”

Claude looked at him for a long moment, but it was interrupted by another series of sneezes, and he burst into laughter. “Oh, mon chou. Go outside and breathe fresh air. I’ll be done in a moment. We can have a bath after this.”

A bath sounded amazing. Harley couldn’t remember the last time he was this pampered—the last time he’d let himself just…be. He felt a pulse of guilt for not working, but he ignored it. He needed this. He knew he needed this, damn it.

After his dad died, he’d thrown himself into work. After his ex left, he forced himself to just get over it.

And then he snapped.

He didn’t want to be the messy man for Claude. He wanted to be the person Claude deserved. And maybe taking care of himself was the start.

Within half an hour, they were back at Claude’s and soaking in his tub. It was big enough for three grown men, something Claude said he’d indulged in when he was having the place renovated. It had a sealed door on the side that he could open and roll in if his legs wouldn’t let him stand and a bench on the side that he could use to slide in if his legs were more mobile that day.

The tub had jets along the sides and seats that molded to their bodies.

Claude had the water hot with a ton of bubbles that frothed up when he got the jets going, and Harley found himself wanting to doze, though his fear of drowning prevented it. But it was hard not to give himself over to the quiet, relaxing pleasure when Claude took his feet into his lap and began to massage them.

“You really don’t have to keep spoiling me like this.”

Claude lifted a brow at him. “When was the last time someone did?”

“Uh…you, when you were my massage therapist when I first got here,” Harley pointed out.

Claude flushed. “I still feel terrible about lying to you.”

“Yeah, well. It got us here.” Harley flexed his toes and shifted down until his chin was touching the water. He felt warm all over and halfway in love. “And if you want the real answer, I’ve never been with anyone who’s taken care of me like this. I need you to know I don’t expect this all the time though. I know this is something special.”

Claude hummed. “It doesn’t have to be. I did this for my ex-wife a lot. I stopped when she asked me to.”

Harley choked. “She asked you to stop giving her luxury baths and foot rubs?”

“We spoke different languages when it came to love and affection. But before the spark died, I did this a lot. I enjoyed it. I liked taking care of her. And I plan to do the same for you…until you ask me to stop.”

Harley snorted, almost sucking bubbles into his sinuses, and he coughed. “What if I never ask?”

Claude smiled at him. “Then you should have some very relaxed feet and calves.”

It was the perfect answer.

“Now,” Claude said after a long silence, “what can we do for dinner?”

“As long as I don’t need to cook, I’m open for anything,” Harley told him.

Claude sighed. “I’m going to need to hire you a personal chef when you move here, won’t I? So you don’t waste away before we start living together?”

When, notif.

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