The Runaway Bridesmaid

After a moment Darla said, “You could still come for a visit, you know. I’d love to see you.”

“I could help plan your wedding,” Isabel said, more as a vague, wouldn’t-this-be-great idea, rather than a true intention.

But Darla responded, immediately and enthusiastically. “That’d be great!” she exclaimed. “I considered asking you to be my maid of honor, but I didn’t want to pressure you to come. We have plenty of room. You could stay as long as you like. Come for the summer!”

A summer-long Colorado trip. What a dream!

And then it struck Isabel: Why limit herself?

Why not take a real vacation?

Blumecrafts was doing well enough. And except for the flood last year, when three feet of muddy river water had rendered Isabel’s house and workshop temporarily unusable, she’d generally worked year-round without a break.

If she caught up on her orders now, she could warn clients that new shipments would be delayed.

Her sisters would watch her house—maybe her younger sister, Josie, would move in to tend the gardens. In return, she’d get a bigger space for summer socializing and all the fresh veggies she could eat.

“What if I did come, Darla? I could free up some of your time by working in the office, or I could do legwork for the wedding. I could make favors and decorations. I could help with anything!”

“Isabel! Really?”

“Of course. This would be great for both of us,” Isabel said. “I’d get the kind of adventure I’ve always wanted, and you’d get to keep your summer wedding.”

“And Roger might get inspired,” Darla added. “Are you sure you can get away from him and those kids? I know they depend on you.”

Yes, they did, especially during the summertime. The school break coincided with Roger’s busiest season.

But Isabel was nothing more than a casual girlfriend to Roger. Callie had pointed that out recently. And Josie had mentioned that Isabel and Roger didn’t even go on dates, anymore. Their relationship had become more of a doing-what-we’ve-always-done type of arrangement.

As a consequence, she was nothing to Roger’s kids, either. Merely a friend who cared about them.

The thought saddened her. She felt connected to the Corbetts, at least emotionally. “Yes, they do depend on me,” Isabel said in a low voice. “Maybe they shouldn’t.”

“Right.” Darla’s tone was gentle, as if she expected Isabel to abandon the entire idea at this first snag.

She couldn’t do that.

Isabel didn’t want to hurt Roger or the kids, but she didn’t want to be taken for granted forever, either. She was determined, this time, to do something different.

Something daring.

Isabel felt excitement bubble up in her chest. “You know what? R.J.’s almost twelve. He’s old enough to help his dad around the farm this summer, or he can ride his bike to the local pool or to visit friends. He’ll be fine.”

“What about the little girl?” Darla asked.

“Angie presents more of a problem,” Isabel said, thinking about options. “Her mother works sixty hours a week, but maybe she and Roger could coordinate their schedules.”

“I’d think they could. She’s their daughter.”

“I know. I feel kind of bad for Angie, though,” Isabel said. “Hopefully they won’t argue in front of her, about who has to have her when.”

“They’d do that?”

“They have before.”

Darla hesitated, then said, “Things are awfully hectic around here once the camp is in session, but of course she’d be welcome, too, if it came to that.”

“Didn’t you tell me once that you catered to adult visitors only, during the camp weeks?” Isabel asked.

“Yes. And usually we limit ourselves to repeat guests who know the place well and don’t mind the chaos. Teenage boys tend to be loud, hungry and surprisingly needy.”

“Then Angie would be in the way.”

“I want you to come, so we’d work something out,” Darla said. “There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“How can Roger realize all you do for him if you help him long distance, my dear?”

“I’m hoping I won’t have to,” Isabel said. “Besides, the idea is for him to miss me more than my child care skills.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Darla said. “We’ll just keep you locked away in our comfortable lodge until he charges out here on his trusty steed to demand your hand, your heart and your body for all time. Sound good?”

Isabel tried to imagine her even-tempered Roger doing anything so wildly romantic. Her mother would have laughed at the very thought.

But her mother had been wrong to suggest that men in general were lazy. Roger was anything but. Maybe he would come whisk her away, if he missed her enough. “Sounds wonderful,” she murmured.

“It sure does. How soon can you get here?”

Chapter Two

Trevor Kincaid backed his foot off the gas pedal when he noticed the tan four-door pulled over on the shoulder, fifty yards ahead. What a rotten break, to have car trouble on this remote mountain road. Few cars traveled up here this early in the morning. Most of the tourists wouldn’t be out and about quite yet, and the natives would be headed down to the cities to work. But someone else would see the car—maybe a county sheriff. Trevor was running late.

That car looked ancient. Small wonder it had broken down. The driver was probably another kid, arriving in the Colorado Rockies to live out his dream. They arrived in droves out here, with a few dollars in their pockets and no clue about where they would sleep at night.

All kinds of colorful characters lived off these less-traveled roads, too—mostly dreamers from the past who’d found the means to stay. Hell, some stayed without the means. Vagrancy was a real problem in the area.

Lord knew what kind of person might stop if Trevor didn’t. He slowed further. He didn’t have time to check a neglected engine, but he could give the kid a lift to the Lyons garage, along with a lecture about clean living and safe travel.

After he parked his Jeep behind the car, the driver of the sedan opened the door and got out. It wasn’t a kid, though. It was a woman, mid- to late-twenties and pretty, with long dark hair.

The woman waved at him, and a gust of wind lifted her already-short skirt.

Those legs were long and sexy.

And those frou-frou shoes would have been worthless if Trevor hadn’t stopped and she’d needed to hike a few miles to get help. What genius designer had decided to put high heels on flip-flops? Trevor’s female students wore the dang things all the time, too, but at least their treks were across the groomed grounds of the Boulder campus.

He got out of his vehicle and met the woman between their bumpers.