Her frown lightened. “Thank you.”
He flashed a thumbs up and left the entryway, which was much too small and intimate for the pair of them. Clara looked adorable with rosy cheeks and hat hair. The white patch behind her ear stood out even more when her hair was mussed. His fingers itched to touch it. He wanted to draw her into his arms and warm her up.
Behind him he heard her muttering something about planning and getting organized. “I can do this. I can get my crap together,” she declared a bit louder. She sounded like she was encouraging herself. Like she was trying to convince herself.
She doubted her abilities. She’d made several references to her screwups. Didn’t she realize that any new venture had a learning curve?
Five minutes later, she joined them in the common room.
“Miss Clara, this is Noah and Wren Underhill. They’d like to book a room. Noah and Wren, this is your host, Miss Clara.”
When Wren moved to stand, Clara urged her to sit. “Nice to meet you both.” She strode forward to shake their hands. “You can call me Clara. I don’t know why Zane insists on calling me Miss Clara.”
To remind him to keep his distance, but he’d never tell her his reasoning. The respectful title created an invisible barrier between them. One he’d like to cross.
“Why don’t Wren and I wait here while you and Noah get them checked in?” Zane leaned back in the comfortable chair he’d moved to when the Underhill’s had joined him a few moments ago. Clara blinked at the suggestion and flashed him a grateful smile that went straight to his libido.
“What brings you to Coyote Creek?” he asked Wren. She perched, half twisted on the chair, one hand on her back, the other holding a coffee she rested on top of her enormous stomach as if it were a table.
“We’re just passing through. We’d planned to drive all the way to Grande Prairie. We’re going to visit my mom for a few days before the baby comes. But my back hates the car, so we decided to find a place to stay. The nice man at the garage, Carl, suggested we come here.”
Carl was Riley’s brother; another one of the endless Flints. Okay, not endless, Robert and Sue had eight children. Five boys and three girls. Zane didn’t know Carl well, but he’d met him once during a visit.
“Carl said he was sure there’d be a room. I guess this place is newly reopened.” Wren leaned back and massaged her stomach instead of her back. She winced a couple times but didn’t complain even though she was obviously in considerable discomfort.
“Are you okay?” Zane asked. She was huge. He’d worked with women who weren’t that big who had given birth. She looked like she might pop any second.
“I’m good. Overtired, I guess. Everything hurts even though I’m not due until January. We should have broken our trip into stages. I should have known not to spend so much time in the car.”
It was only ten in the morning. “Have you been driving all night?” Night driving in November could be hazardous. It was cold and snowy; between that, the potential ice on the roads and wild animal crossings, it seemed like an unnecessary risk to Zane.
“Yeah, we wanted to do it in one go. Take turns driving. It’s only eighteen hours from Winnipeg. We do it in one shot all the time. I detest flying.” She shuddered delicately. “We didn’t factor in my inability to sit still for that long.”
It didn’t seem right to Zane to subject a pregnant woman to endless hours in a vehicle. They should have made it a three-day trip, especially in winter. Or her mother could have traveled to them. It was none of his business, even if he disagreed.
“All checked in,” Clara stated from the doorway. “Come on upstairs, Wren. I’ll show you your room so you can get settled in. Zane, would you mind bringing their coffee up?”
The request startled him, but he jumped up and helped Wren stand. Even with Zane’s help, she wobbled on her feet until her husband rushed to her side and slid an arm around her waist. “Got ya, babe.”
They went upstairs, Zane bringing up the rear with their snacks. He stopped to put more coffee into a carafe he’d noticed in the cupboard earlier. Wren moved so slowly that he had to wait for the couple to get up the stairs. Pregnancy was a burden as well as a blessing. Any man lucky enough to have a woman put her body through that torture was blessed and should be darned grateful.
Back downstairs, he started a fresh pot of coffee, suddenly thankful for Clara’s fast-brew industrial system. When she appeared in the kitchen, he offered her the cup he’d made her.
“Come sit. You should rest after all that shoveling. You need a snow blower. Or a handyman to shovel for you. You must be exhausted.” Coffee in hand, they wandered into the common room.
“I’m not bad. It was hardly more than a skiff. But it is cold out there. Thanks for helping. You’re a godsend.” She settled into the wingback chair opposite his.
The delicate chairs should have looked strange next to the bulky sofa and chair, but their softer, more feminine lines and floral print softened the hard edge of the room. “No problem. Thanks for leaving me breakfast. I’m on my second one.” He toasted her with his mug.
“I’m glad I didn’t leave the Underhills outside in the freezing cold. I need a way to let people know I’ll be back in a few minutes. I was only gone half an hour, or less.”
“You should lock the door and leave a note in the window. You don’t want to risk someone coming in and robbing you,” he chided. He couldn’t help but think of all the bad things that could happen to a woman alone in an unattended house.
