After The Snow

By Lane Swift

To be that perfect someone doesn’t mean you have to be perfect...

Christmas is over, but Dale Hepburn is determined to show his new British love, Nick Harris, how much fun a Michigan winter can be, starting with outdoor ice skating lessons. His life would be perfect—if he wasn’t secretly trying to dig himself out of an avalanche of debt that he doesn’t want Nick to know about. After all, Nick believes Dale is reliable, sensible, and solvent.

But while Dale works extra hours, saves every spare cent, and hopes Nick never finds out about his past financial mistakes, unforeseen expenses keep piling on like Michigan’s unrelenting snow. Then, just when it seems things can’t get any worse, an unexpected disaster strikes, and Dale must find a way to tell Nick he is financially ruined.

Follow Dale and Nick over ice and through snow from Detroit to New York City, and back again, in this emotionally tense romance with a satisfying HFN.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lane Swift
• Release date: Dec 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463588574

Lane Swift

Lane Swift writes contemporary love stories with diverse protagonists in the starring roles. She draws inspiration for many of her characters from her working-class roots and her mixed-race heritage.Home is currently Hampshire, on the south coast of England. When Lane’s not writing or spending time with her family, she can often be found running on the local roads, trails and beaches.

Book preview

To be that perfect someone doesn’t mean you have to be perfect…

Christmas is over, but Dale Hepburn is determined to show his new British love, Nick Harris, how much fun a Michigan winter can be, starting with outdoor ice skating lessons. His life would be perfect—if he wasn’t secretly trying to dig himself out of an avalanche of debt that he doesn’t want Nick to know about. After all, Nick believes Dale is reliable, sensible, and solvent.

But while Dale works extra hours, saves every spare cent, and hopes Nick never finds out about his past financial mistakes, unforeseen expenses keep piling on like Michigan’s unrelenting snow. Then, just when it seems things can’t get any worse, an unexpected disaster strikes, and Dale must find a way to tell Nick he is financially ruined.

Follow Dale and Nick over ice and through snow from Detroit to New York City, and back again, in this emotionally tense romance with a satisfying HFN.

After The Snow

(Michigan Seasons 2)

By Lane Swift

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only.

After The Snow

By Lane Swift

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © Lane Swift 2017

Cover Art: Tiferet Design (www.TiferetDesign.com)

Copyright © Tiferet Design 2017

Editor: Victoria Milne (www.VictoriaMilne.com)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review.

First edition April 2017

Second revised edition December 2018

Acknowledgements

They say it takes a village, and it’s true.

My biggest thanks go again to Victoria Milne, my exacting, patient and extraordinarily good editor. Also to Anna Sikorska, who beta reads my stories then somehow magically translates my rough-hewn text into a cover that precisely and emotively turns the essence of the story into a breathtakingly beautiful visual.

In addition, there are the numerous writers in various communities who continually support and encourage, laugh and lament, alongside me. And the readers, who must surely be acknowledged for their private messages, so heartfelt and cautious. Those messages do make a difference. They light up the dark days of winter.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About The Author

Also By Lane Swift

Share Your Experience

Chapter 1

I PRESSED the letter flat on the counter and read it again, word for word. Like similar ones I’d received before, the credit card pre-approval enticingly offered the answer to all my problems. Spread the load of seasonal debt, Dale Hepburn! Zero per cent interest on balance transfers of up to five thousand dollars for fifteen months. Then in microscopic print at the bottom of the page—the exorbitant monthly interest charge on the remaining balance after the alluring introductory period.

‘Tear it up, idiot.’ Now I had Nick’s rent, I could meet the interest payments on the Chase Freedom card, and pay down some on the others.

My beautiful Nick. A smile returned to my face. Man, I was such a dope when I thought about the fact we’d got together.

The thought of him also fuelled my resolve. I took the Chase card out of my wallet, and scissors from the silverware drawer. One deep breath and I cut that shiny blue piece of accursed plastic into tiny fragments, as I should have done the second it maxed out last summer, and put the shards in the trash where they belonged.

The front door knob turned. I started, shoved the credit card pre-approval letter into the drawer, and snapped my laptop shut faster than a fifteen-year-old caught watching porn.

As I spun around, Nick stamped the snow from his boots onto the doormat, completely unaware of my momentary panic. He wore his chocolate brown Canada Goose jacket with the fur-trimmed hood, the one that set off the mouth-watering, shower-fresh glow of his bronze skin. When he pushed down the hood, his wavy black hair shone, naturally so, since he didn’t use styling products. Even casually dressed, Nick was as elegant as the guys that grace the feature pages of GQ.

‘All set?’ He adjusted his brand new ice skates tucked under his arm.

‘Be right with you. Just taking care of some online banking.’

‘You’re so good.’ He closed the front door but remained on the inside mat, his English accent giving the words enough weight I could almost believe them. ‘I’ve got expenses forms to fill in. All sorts I haven’t got around to yet. I should do it today really, since it’s back to the grind in a couple of days, but it’s hard to switch back into work mode when you’ve had a week away.’

‘Don’t remind me. I guarantee you, first day back after the holiday, half my first period class will be late in.’

I zipped up my jacket, taking care to yank it hard past the broken tooth at the bottom where it sometimes got stuck. Pulled on my grey woollen hat and my padded gloves.

Nick opened the front door and took a step outside. ‘Hurry up. Before I change my mind.’

Not even a tiny kiss. Never mind that it had only been an hour since we’d last been busy—when we woke up, in his bed, in the house he rented from me next door. I should have gotten a kiss!

Still, I didn’t hold it against him. Anxiety made him impatient. I grabbed my tired old skates from where they leant against the wall and followed Nick over the street to the homemade rink that filled the two yards in front of Laura’s, and Nancy and Brett’s houses. Sitting on Brett’s front step, my breath puffing out in clouds, I changed from my boots into my skates, and scanned the surface of the ice. It was pitted and scarred, like rough old skin—the kids must have been out a lot over the Christmas break—but it would do just fine.

On the outside the edge of the rink, Nick shifted forward on a lawn chair and attempted to stand. He wobbled. The chair wobbled. And, cursing under his breath, he landed back on his ass right where he’d started. ‘Nice Christmas present, Dale. Thanks so much.’

‘You’re welcome, honey.’ I hopped onto the ice and circled the rink, resisting the temptation to help before he made another attempt to stand.

One more circuit, and with a turn of my hips I dug in my blades for a sharp stop. ‘Ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be.’

‘My dear Nick. You look a little flushed.’

I warmed to the memory of him earlier, sprawled on the bed, his brown eyes alight. Blood rushed to my cheeks and my dick. Again. I must have had two dozen orgasms this last week, yet my libido didn’t show any signs of slowing. Like I was a teenager all over again. That’s what Nick Harris did to me.

Kneeling at his feet, I took his face in my gloved hands and kissed his plush lips. They were cold but pliant. His breath minty and warm. My heart fluttered like it was made from a thousand butterflies taking flight. Seriously. Butterflies. That’s how gone I was for this guy.

‘Everyone will see.’ He smiled against my mouth.

‘Good. Let them.’

When I came out as bisexual, I lost the approval of my family and a lot of people I used to call friends. But the people I knew here in Ferndale were happy to see Nick and me together.

Nick placed his hands on my shoulders, drew closer, and returned my kiss a second and third time, soft and tender. ‘You’re going to have to help me stand. I almost fell over trying to get out of this chair.’

I pulled off my gloves and checked the straps on the front of his skates were tight enough. ‘How do they feel? Can you move your feet?’

‘No. Only my toes.’

‘Perfect.’ I stood, put my gloves back on and held out my hands. ‘Hold onto me. Nice and slow. That’s it.’

He got to his feet, and tensed. The blades of his skates had sunk into the compacted snow, tilting him forward. I cupped his elbows in my palms and nudged back a few inches. ‘Relax, honey.’

‘That’s easy for you to say.’

‘I’ve got you. I won’t let go until you’re ready.’ I gave him a small nod of encouragement. ‘Good. Now, step over the rim. Slowly. That’s it.’

The one foot he placed on the ice shot away and he jerked back. ‘Whoa!’

‘You’re okay. Lean into me.’

In turn, I leaned toward him, countering his weight, trying to anticipate what he needed from me to gain his balance. I couldn’t remember what it was like, learning to skate. At the beginning of winter, the first time on the ice, muscle memory kicked in as soon as I moved. Any unsteadiness vanished as quickly as it began.

Nick, on the other hand, was twenty-nine years old and a complete novice. While he wasn’t so big, at five-foot-nine and hundred and sixty pounds, falling over would hurt. My stomach knotted in sympathy as Nick tentatively placed his second foot on the ice.

‘You’re doing great.’

‘Look at my arse sticking out.’ He snorted. ‘I feel like a prize tit.’

I laughed. I tried not to, but the plummy way Nick said arse and tit got me every time. The movement must have rippled through my body and unsteadied him because his grip on my arms tightened. ‘Fuck. No laughing.’

‘I’m trying not to. But you have to stop with the wisecracks.’

Lips pursed, he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and locked his eyes on mine. The trust he had, that I would keep him on his feet, shone brighter than the low winter sun slicing through the gaps between the houses.

With his arms in mine, I slowly, slowly skated backward the ten yards or so, one side of the rink to the other, with Nick in tow. On the turn, I said, ‘This time I’m going to move faster and I want you to lift your feet up, one at a time, like you’re marching.’

The expression on his face could have soured fresh milk. ‘You want me to lift one foot while we’re moving, when I can’t even stand still on two?’

‘It’s easier when you’re moving.’

The sound Nick made was somewhere between a bark and a hysterical cackle. ‘I don’t know what I did to piss you off but whatever it was, I’m sorry.’

‘You’re hilarious.’ I put my arm around his waist, and with ease lifted him off the ice, settling him in the opposite direction ready for the return run. We didn’t look remotely graceful doing this—we were no Viktor and Yuri. But I’m five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than Nick, which makes it temptingly easy to manhandle him.

We successfully moved together up and down that lumpy ice rink, Nick marching the lengths like a good little soldier maybe a dozen times before I took him to the corner, to one of the poles supporting the string lights. ‘You’re ready to have a go by yourself. Hold your arms out like an airplane, and see if you can march to the other side.’

‘Okay. But don’t look. It makes me more nervous if you look.’

I skated away but I couldn’t help intermittently glancing at Nick, and good thing too. ‘Keep your eyes ahead. Don’t look at your feet,’ I called over, jumping up and changing direction.

Nick stuttered forward about two feet, his arms windmilled, and over he went, feet up, butt down, flat onto the ice with a smack! My stomach really flipped that time.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ He wriggled his shoulders and hips with a wince. ‘Nothing broken.’

‘Let me show you how to get up.’

Mimicking Nick’s position, I laid on the ice. The cold seeped through my jacket and jeans, and I shivered before rolling onto my hands and knees. ‘Keep your hands on the ice, bend your knees and position your feet so that your blades are directly beneath you. Take your time. Don’t stand until you feel steady.’

Nick followed my lead, easing up to a standing position. And fell again, backward like the first time. Third attempt, he fell forward, his wrists and knees taking the worst of the impact. I could hardly bear to look.

‘Do you want to take a breather?’

‘Nope.’ He firmed his shoulders and smoothed back his hair with the palm of his wet glove. ‘But stop cringing like I’m about to break. I’m fine.’

Well I was damned if I could stop myself from keeping my distance after that. I went to my poor battered boy and held him close, taking his weight so he wouldn’t fall. I rubbed my hands up and down his back, unable to feel much through my gloves and his down jacket, but all the same enjoying the closeness and the woodsy scent of his aftershave.

‘Happy New Year,’ he said, returning the embrace. ‘This is going to be a good one. I just know it.’

‘Me too. It’s been perfect so far.’

Leaving Nick under the false pretext of stretching out my quads on the other side of the rink, I watched him out of the corner of my eye skating several clumsy lengths of the ice rink, one stiff and flailing step at a time.

I absolutely did not wince every time he fell. That was the cold, making me shiver.

Brett’s front door opened and Eva, Nancy and Brett’s six-year-old daughter, emerged in a puffy lilac snowsuit and fleece hat, holding a pink fluffy cushion. She looked like a walking marshmallow, topped with toffee curls.

‘Hi!’ she called down from the top step, giggling. To Nick, she said, ‘I brought you a cushion.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart, but I don’t plan on sitting down yet.’

‘It’s not for sitting on. You use your belt to tie it to your butt, so it doesn’t hurt so much when you fall.’

I was about to object. Nick hadn’t fallen for at least thirty seconds. But right at that moment, his foot whipped out and he went over again, this time banging his head as well as his ass.

‘Shit. That must have hurt.’

‘Shh. Watch your language.’ Nick motioned toward Eva, at the edge of the rink, looking at him with a concerned frown crinkling her forehead, and said, ‘I’m all right, sweetheart.’

Once on his feet, I put my arm around Nick’s waist and guided him to the lawn chairs. He hissed as his ass hit the seat.

‘Bad?’ I grimaced in sympathy.

‘Let’s put it this way.’ He put his hand up to shield his mouth from Eva and said quietly enough that she wouldn’t hear, ‘I might have to take a turn topping.’

With a suggestive waggle of my eyebrows, I said honestly, ‘Any time you like.’ To which Nick pulled the edges of my hat down further over my ears and yanked on my beard.

I’d spent a hundred and fifty bucks (or a month’s worth of heating for my house)