Silent Night, Star-Lit Night (Second Chance at Star Inn)(3)

She scrunched her nose slightly, a move she’d made for as long as he could remember. “I didn’t bring anything for the baby.”

“Nothing?” It didn’t make sense to him with the baby so close and Mia being a nurse and all. He had cows drop babies a week early on a regular basis, and he was pretty sure it was the same kind of statistic with humans.

“She’s not due for thirteen days.”

He waited, hoping the obvious would occur to Mia without him saying anything, that by the time she’d celebrated Christmas with her convoluted family it would only be a handful of days. When she stayed silent, he jutted his chin toward the Spartan apartment. “Wouldn’t it be smart to bring stuff just in case? Diapers, clothes, blankets.”

She didn’t look at him.

She didn’t look back at the apartment.

She looked down at the curve of her belly and said, “Nothing we can’t buy as the need arises, right?”

It was an odd thing to say, even if she was doing all right with money. She was an experienced nurse, with a military survivor benefit. He didn’t think money should be an issue, but what did he know?

He hesitated, then decided to pick his battles carefully. He’d never been in her situation, so if she wanted to tempt fate, baby things would be as close as the nearest Walmart or pharmacy, but he didn’t discount the thought of grabbing a pack of diapers at their first rest stop.

Just in case.

He put the car in gear, and within ten minutes he realized that driving north through California wasn’t anything like driving in the Pacific Northwest states. As he threaded his way through too much traffic, Mia broke the silence. “I’m still not used to this.”

They hadn’t gone close to his five-miles-of-silence challenge, but he wisely bit his tongue. “The traffic?”

“The sun. The warmth. The crush of people and the traffic.”

“It’s a huge state.” He kept the tone and topic easy on purpose.

She slid nice sunglasses down and angled a tough-girl look his way. “You’re treating me with kid gloves, like when you break one of your young horses to saddle. Stop it.”

“Feelin’ my way as we go, little lady.” He flashed a grin her way. “You’ve already threatened my extinction and ordered me to silence. I’m just trying to get a feel for current conditions.”

He saw her quirk a small smile from his peripheral vision. “I am a touch testy.”

“Recognizing it is the first step, they say.”

The smile flipped to a quick scowl that he hoped was pretend. “My sense of humor ranks non-existent, bucko, so watch your step.”

“Duly noted. Did you think to do a weather check before we took off?”

“It’s Southern Cal. Warm and sunny.”

She said it like it was almost a bad thing. “Do me a favor, see what we’ve got ahead of us. Ten hours north is going to make a difference.”

She pulled up a weather app and opened it. “The northern coast looks chilly and rainy, but they’re predicting some snow in Central Oregon up through Central Washington.”

“Define ‘some.’ ” He changed lanes again, trying to find a driving rhythm, but the frequent slowdowns and traffic volume rebuffed him.

“Significant accumulations in the higher elevations. Which is why towns in the higher elevations have big snowplows, right?” She aimed a look his way again.

“That’s a wide range of possibilities when it comes to snowfall.” He tapped the wheel as he drove north. “Where are we staying tonight?”

“I figured on driving straight through.”

Eighteen hours under less than perfect conditions? Nope. He shook his head mentally. That wasn’t about to happen. It wasn’t that he couldn’t manage it; he’d done extended driving in the past.

But that wasn’t the point. He’d promised to take care of her, to look after her and get her back to Roslyn safely. And pretending the human body didn’t need sleep was a foolish thing to do while operating a vehicle in the snow. “It gets dark early up north. Unfamiliar roads, snow, fatigue.” He shook his head openly this time. “We’ll need a place to stay. Can you check it out on your phone? Maybe about ten to twelve hours in? That way if we get back on the road first thing in the morning, we’re home by mid-day.”

“Jed.”

“I have to answer to my mother. You know my mother.” He didn’t have to look her way to know she smiled. “When Mother Taylor gives an order, all the little Taylors fall in and do as they’re told. At least during the holidays. And even in their thirties.”

“Your sister used to call it ‘Christmas season conformation.’ Best behavior to avoid the coal. Did anyone really get coal? And if they did, I’d expect it would be you.”

“They did not, but every one of us was certain she meant what she said. So we behaved. Mostly.” Mia had slid her seat back slightly and tipped the back to a slight angle, so she and the baby didn’t look quite so scrunched. “Is that comfortable, Mia? Do you need a cushion for your back or your head or anything?”

She stayed quiet, and when he finally pulled up to a light with a sign pointing toward the eventual interstate he glanced right.

One single tear threaded its way down her left cheek. His chest clenched, seeing it. “Mia.”