Chapter Four
“Wow,” Clara whispered, hugging herself. “That’s one heck of a man.” She shook her head trying to displace her instant attraction. No way was she attracted to her first ever guest. “Oh, fudge,” she groaned, burying her head in her hands. She’d totally screwed up the dates. How could it be November fifteenth already? Where had the time gone? Maybe she needed to hire a manager. Maybe she wasn’t up to the challenge of running a bed and breakfast.
She slammed the brakes on her self-doubt.
She could do this, she just had to focus.
Clara had only inherited Sweet Dreams a couple months ago. It had taken two months to clean most of the junk out before she started renovations. Her maternal great aunt Tilly, a woman she barely knew, was something of a hoarder. Clara had found many things to send to auction and more to donate to charity. While it had been dusty, Aunt Tilly’s house wasn’t truly dirty. It had been filled with furniture, unopened packages from television infomercials, junk, and old newspapers. Who even got the newspaper anymore? Everything was online.
She’d sent several bins of trash to the dump. Broken chairs and tables. Threadbare furniture. She’d given piles of old bedding to the local animal shelter and taken several trips to the recycling depot. It seemed her aunt hadn’t thrown anything away for a long time. At least there hadn’t been any rotting food or garbage. That would have been too gross to handle. Instead, the house smelled dusty and faintly of Tilly’s familiar lavender.
After the cleaning came the intense labor of painting walls, refinishing the hardwood floors on both levels, and installing durable vinyl planking in the kitchen and eating areas where the hardwood was too damaged to repair.
Just when everything was perfect, WHAM! Tap explosion. She’d pushed up on the lever and it snapped off in her hand, sending a shower of water skyward. Thank heaven it was the cold water tap and not the hot.
At least nothing was irreparably damaged. Clara breathed a sigh of relief even though she had a ton of laundry to do. All the towels she’d used, the throw rugs, her clothing, it added up quickly. She’d wash Zane’s clothing too. He was almost as wet as she was. It was the least she could do to thank him. That and the brownies he’d asked for. Even if he had been half joking.
She shivered a bit. The room was warm, but she was dripping wet from head to toe.
It was nice that Zane had dived right in and solved her problem. Such chivalry. Not that Clara needed his help, she reminded herself. She would have found a solution eventually. She wasn’t helpless. A bit clumsy at times, but not helpless.
Still, she was glad he’d burst in with his bulging biceps, tousled hair, and those incredible eyes. He had the sexiest eyes. She’d never seen eyes that shade of blue, kind of peacock with flecks of purple. Stunning. Heck, she hadn’t even known eyes could be sexy, but his stare had nearly knocked her over. She fanned herself.
Oh. Not a good idea. She was freezing. She needed to put coffee on and change her clothing. She called her uncle, Robert Flint, and he agreed to bring over his industrial fan. She bustled around, grinding beans and making coffee. Despite the frigid November weather, she opened the kitchen and dining room windows a couple inches to let excess moisture out. Then, she turned up the furnace a few degrees to keep the chill off.
Chill? She was freezing. She had to change, but she’d wait for Zane to get back in case there was more water to mop up. No sense drying off just to dive back into the pool.
A few minutes later, as the fast brew coffee pot gurgled its last spurt, Zane came back into the kitchen. “I didn’t find any damage down there. To be on the safe side, I suggest you have someone come with a moisture meter to make sure there’s no moisture in the walls. Holy crap. It’s cold in here!”
“Yup. I’m trying to get the moisture out until the fan arrives. Thanks for checking for damage, I appreciate it. Why don’t you go get your bags and get changed? I’ll make up your bed later.” She smiled at him; weirdly thankful her crisis hadn’t changed his mind about staying.
“I thought you weren’t ready for guests.” He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head, a crooked grin lifting the right corner of his mouth.
“I’m not. But you have a reservation and it’s not your fault I’m too disorganized to realize what week it is. The small amount of work remaining won’t affect your stay. Go, get your bags. You can’t shower, but you can put on dry clothing.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on. Uncle Robert will be here with the fan right away.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” The conversation felt like verbal volleyball. Back and forth quickly.
“All right then. Thanks for having me.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen, his clothing leaving little droplets of water behind. She watched him until he was out of sight around the corner. Dang, he was fine. Great assets. Lovely broad shoulders, tight buns. Enticing eyes and smile.
A familiar male voice came from the entry, and she hurried to meet her guest. “Uncle Robert, thanks for coming. You got here fast! Oh, hi Riley. I wasn’t expecting you. Thanks for coming to my rescue.” She was more grateful than words could ever express. To all three of her white knights.
“Sounds like Zane came to your rescue first,” Riley teased with the good nature close cousins often shared. His signature Flint green eyes sparkled with mirth. He looked like a younger version of the man standing beside him. He’d been a good-looking boy and was gorgeous now. If his father was any indication, he’d age very gracefully. His new girlfriend, Tricia, was lucky to have him.
“Brought him along to do the lifting. He was just hanging around anyway,” her uncle Robert put in, slapping Riley on the back. He tipped his Stetson in the greeting she remembered so well from the summers she spent on his ranch.
“I was helping you give those pups their worm medicine,” Riley, a veterinarian, corrected wryly. “Lucky I was, or you would have had to lift the fan yourself.” He patted the enormous fan sitting on the entryway carpet. “Where do you want this bad boy?”
“In the kitchen, please. Thanks so much.” Robert might be her father’s brother, but the two men couldn’t be further apart. Uncle Robert was kind and giving and a great parent. Her father was self-absorbed, cheap, and didn’t give two hoots about his daughter. Clara had spent more than one summer dumped at the Bar 3 Ranch with her cousins. The first year, when she was eleven, she’d been angry. By the end of the first week, she loved being there and knew that eventually, she’d make Coyote Creek her home. Year after year, she came back, until her father discovered how much she loved being with his brother’s family. It wasn’t until she inherited the inn that she learned that Tilly, a friend of Aunt Sue’s, was Clara’s aunt on her mother’s side. Typical of her father to keep that tidbit from Clara.
She looked at Robert. He’d aged a lot in the past couple years. A little thicker in the waist, a bit grayer around his temples, and a few more laugh lines surrounded his eyes. He looked tired. She’d heard about his heart troubles and knew he didn’t like to talk about it, so she let it ride. She’d catch up on family news the first chance she got. She regretted not reaching out to them more often. She’d only seen them a couple times since moving to town and couldn’t wait to get together with them again.
“There’s fresh coffee and I have cookies. Come in. It’s been too long since we visited.” Clara urged him forward as Zane came through the door.
“Mr. Flint, sir. Good to see you again.”
“That’s Robert now that you’re an adult. Good to see you, Zane, it’s been a few years.”
