Sewing bunting, by hand, because he’d run away from home so fasthe couldn’t take the time to pack his sewing machine.
“So you got married recently,” the host said. “And I hear yourwedding was almost a disaster.”
Dominique rolled her eyes. “Oh wow, yeah, you should have met theguy I hired to plan it. He came highly recommended, but…wow. I guessyou read all about it, huh? What a nightmare.”
Connor hissed as he shoved his sewing needle deep into the pad ofhis thumb. He tossed the bunting aside, tears welling up in his eyes.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Dammit,” he said, louder than he meant to as he went to the door,sticking his thumb in his mouth.
It was a relief to find Max on the other side of it. Even if hewas half an hour early.
“Are you okay?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow.
To his horror, Connor burst into tears.
Max pushed his way inside, closing the door behind him.
“I stabbed myself in the finger because I’m an incompetent moron,”Connor said, wiping at his eyes. He was mad at himself for crying, especiallyover something he should have moved on from, and especially in front of Max. “Ican’t plan a wedding and I can’t even sew two pieces of felt together withoutscrewing it up and you’re anidiotfor putting your faith in me.”
Max shushed him. “Lemme see,” he said, holding his hand out forConnor’s.
Connor offered it to him automatically. He was more shocked thaninjured, and the wound had already stopped bleeding, but it was still visible.
Max made a soft, sympathetic noise, raising Connor’s hand to hismouth. He pressed his lips against the pad of Connor’s thumb, just the barestpressure, and then swiped his own thumb over it.
Connor swallowed. It wasniceto be looked after.
He could already feel his heartbeat slowing down, the knot oftension in his chest easing off. Max was so nice to be around.
“All better?” Max asked.
“All better,” Connor said, his throat dry.
Before he could react, Max was pushing him up against the wall,pinning him in place with the weight of his body.
“I am an idiot, but not for believing in you,” Max said softly.“You’re not incompetent. You’re not a moron.”
Connor looked at him, searching his face and finding nothing butkindness and acceptance and true, genuine belief that Connor knew what he wasdoing.
“I screwed up,” Connor said, his voice cracking. He screwed up,and now he was going to screw up all over again, and Max would go on beingstressed and miserable and it would be all his fault.
“We all screw up,” Max murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand ofhair behind Connor’s ear. “It’s okay, as long as you learn from it.”
Connor wasn’t sure he’d learned anything useful.
Maybe the lesson was to stop working for people who were spoiled.Max had been nothing but grateful, in awe of everything Connor was doing.
He hadn’t felt this appreciated in a long time.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Max said, his voice barely abovea whisper.
Connor parted his lips to askstop what, but Max leaning instopped the question as he was thinking it.
Max’s lips were soft against this, cautious and exploring atfirst, but more confident as the kiss went on. A spark of arousal lit upConnor’s stomach, heat flaring up low and deep inside him.
He really didn’t need Max to stop this. Not when his lips were sosoft, and his body was so warm, and he smelled of coffee and cinnamon and cloves,and Connor wanted to be comforted so,sobadly.
