Chapter Ten
“Another day, another guest,” Clara whispered to herself as she opened the kitchen blinds to stare out into the pre-dawn darkness. Standing with her arms wrapped around her waist in a happy hug, she couldn’t suppress a smile. Running a bed and breakfast wasn’t the career she’d planned on, but here she was. Her third day and she was expecting more guests. A shiver of excitement ran up her spine. It was a huge change from being a studio musician, and even though she’d blundered a few times, she was loving it.
Music had been her life until she’d been blackballed by a big-name rocker. Screw Kevin Diamond, and his entire band. She wasn’t the brightest person on the planet, but she hadn’t deserved to be called a stupid, useless cow because she wouldn’t sleep with him at the after-party celebrating getting the final tracks down for their next album.
Relentlessly, she pushed the memories back. She had her inn, and several registrations for the coming week. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was working out just fine, thank you very much. She’d have to tweak her aunt’s dated website with new photos and an online booking system, but first, breakfast.
She’d planned on fresh fruit and muffins to go along with the morning’s hot breakfast. She had experimented with reheating frozen muffins in the microwave or oven, but they weren’t as delicious as fresh baked, which meant getting up extra early in order to prep for the day. Her fondest childhood memories were waking up to the delicious aroma of fresh muffins or cinnamon rolls. Birthdays meant homemade cakes. Christmas meant cookies. Food and comfort eating had been important to her mother. That ended when she passed away when Clara was ten and her father forbade her to bake; a restriction he hadn’t let up on even when she was in her late teens.
Once she’d left home, baking, like music, had become her joy and her solace. Being up early in the kitchen was bliss. Especially since she was expecting another arrival today. Her plan for Sweet Dreams included making it feel like home, and that meant fresh baking. Once she had breakfast on the go, she’d make cookies for the family who had requested two adjoining rooms.
She’d only been open two full days, if you counted the day Zane arrived; and by the end of today, she’d have four out of ten rooms booked. Not bad, all things considered. When she’d arrived in Coyote Creek and met with the lawyer, he’d warned her that the place was in rough shape. But, ready for a change of pace, she’d moved in and begun the arduous job of cleaning and refinishing. There were days when she thought she’d never see the end of the floor sander and paint brush. Luckily, a contractor had reassured her that the ninety-seven-year-old house had strong bones, thick walls and good insulation. She wouldn’t be spending a fortune on structural repairs or heat. The small nest egg that came with the house would last until she got on her feet.
She flicked the radio on and turned the volume low. She danced around the kitchen gathering ingredients for muffins. Thanksgiving was long gone in Canada, but she was craving pumpkin spice. She had celebrated with her Flint cousins, but she’d missed making her favorite muffins. A month ago, she’d been too deep in renovations to spend time baking.
“Coffee. I need coffee,” she declared.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Holy crap!” She whirled around, one hand pressed to her chest, to stare at Zane. Her heart thundered like a drum. “You scared me.” He leaned against the doorjamb, his head tilted to the left, watching her, his brow furrowed, his hands stuffed in his jean’s pockets.
Heat rose in her face. “I’ll make coffee,” she blurted and spun around to the coffee maker. No man had the right to look that delectable at five in the morning. Why was he awake? “You’re up early.”
“Technically, I’m up late. I haven’t gone to bed yet.” He yawned loudly.
“Really?” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You look exhausted.” His hair was a disaster, like he’d been running his hands through it. He had dark circles under his eyes and was wearing yesterday’s clothing. “Couldn’t sleep? Was your room okay?”
“My room is great. My mind is the issue. I’m working on my project, and my mind won’t shut up about it. I tried going to bed at midnight, two, and four. Here I am, still awake. I thought I’d make coffee and go for a run. Maybe that’ll tire me out enough to silence my brain’s chatter so I can nap.”
“I’m a pretty good listener if you want to talk about it.” She scooped grounds into the reusable filter basket and slid it in place. A flip of the switch and water flowed through the industrial pot. The hot, comforting scent of coffee flooded her senses. Dark and delicious, she could almost taste it.
“It’s a personal project. I’m not quite ready to bring it out in public, but thanks for the offer. Coffee will be a great start. What are you making?”
“Pumpkin spice muffins. They’ll be ready in about three quarters of an hour if you want a couple.” Maybe food would help him sleep. She wasn’t sure coffee was the ticket to rest, but if that’s what he wanted, that’s what he’d get.
“If your cinnamon buns are any indication, your muffins will be great. I can’t wait. Need any help?” He stepped further into the room.
“I’ve got it, but thanks. Pull up a chair while you wait for coffee. It’ll only be a moment. This pot brews quickly. Is the radio okay?” she asked, a bit concerned he might not like her taste in music.
“It’s fine. I’m not a huge country fan, but it’s your kitchen. Listen to whatever you like.”
Was it actually okay? Or was he just being kind? She didn’t want to put her guests off with the wrong type of music. She measured out flour, sugar, and the other dry ingredients in a bowl.You know what? I’m going to leave my music on. It’s not loud. It’s not offensive. It makes me happy. Decision making wasn’t easy for her. Pride at having made the decision lifted her doubts. If anyone had a problem, she’d deal with it then. It wasn’t like stores asked their customers what type of music to play. No sense looking for trouble. “Well, if you get tired of it, let me know.”
“It’s fine. You can barely hear it outside of the kitchen. What’s on the agenda for today?” He ambled to the cupboard and reached past her to grab two coffee mugs.
He smelled like mint, soap and man. She sucked in his delicious scent. She could get used to that aroma. It was almost as good as fresh baking.
“I’m going to start decorating for Christmas. It’s my first holiday here and I want to celebrate as much as I can. I missed Thanksgiving with all the renovations I had to do. I’m not missing out on one second of Christmas. Not like when I was a kid. My father hated the holidays.” In reality, he had detested all holidays and banned celebrations from the house. After she moved out, the apartment she’d shared with two other women was too small for a full-blown Christmas. She couldn’t wait to do her own thing. In the disaster her aunt had left behind, she’d discovered decades of decorations. Everything from boxes of antique balls and lights so old she didn’t dare plug them in, all the way up to LED light strands still in their packages.
She had a plan. Three full-sized trees on the main level. Foyer, common room, and library. She’d also add tabletop trees in each guest room and the dining area. There were miles of elegant, but fake, pine garland for looping on the railings inside and out. The pine tree out front would have lights, so would the one in the backyard. She even had elegant, if fake, wreaths for each of the guest room doors. She was almost giddy thinking about it.
“Isn’t it early? It’s only November.” He poured coffee while she added eggs to her batter.
“Probably. But honestly, I want to put them up, so I’m going to. I’ve had a rough, busy year and I’m taking the time to celebrate my opening, my success, and Christmas. I can’t wait to have the entire Flint crew over for dinner one night. I’m thinking I’ll have a dinner party. You’re invited, of course. All my guests are. Especially you since you already know my extended family.”
“Thank you. I’ll think about it. It would be nice to connect with them all at once, but there’s a million of them. I’m sure you don’t need another body.”
“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you there. Don’t be silly. Don’t turn me down yet. I haven’t even set a date. By then, you could be dying for someone else’s company.” She grinned to let him know she was teasing. “It’s Christmas. Well, it will be by then. Christmas is all about family and friends.”
