The Runaway Bridesmaid

So, what? Friendly? Sexy?

Distracting?

“…green.”

Sam had already headed outside. Trevor watched him step off the porch to shake the woman’s hand. He watched her smile that same, openly friendly smile. Then he watched her skirt flutter up again.

He’d have to be careful to keep his thoughts off those legs and on the safety of the camp kids.

He’d also have to discourage any more electrified touches or lingering looks. It might be all right to entertain sexual thoughts about a woman he knew he’d never see again, but in the real world, this one wasn’t his type.

Too dewy-eyed. She’d want the white picket fence, the scruffy dog and two children—a boy and a girl if it worked out, but of course she’d adore whichever she got.

Trevor knew that story, too. It had always read like pure fiction to him.

Besides, he had other things to worry about. The ninety-six boys whose parents had paid for this camp deserved his undivided attention. Those kids would learn nothing good from watching their camp director engage in a dalliance with some sexy tourist.

In fact, he’d love to teach them the opposite: that a man should be strong enough to wait for a healthy relationship with a woman he admired.

There went her skirt again.

Okay, so he did admire her legs.

“What in blazes is she doing wearing a skirt to a Colorado mountain lodge, anyway?” he complained to himself just before he shoved his way out the screen door.

“IT IS YOU!” Isabel said as soon as she saw her highway rescuer appear outside. “I knew that Jeep was familiar.”

“Thought you were headed to Longmont.”

“I was. I mean, I did go through there.” She glanced out toward the road. Hadn’t Darla told her she would pass through Longmont? “I was told I had to, to get here.”

The trill of a cell phone interrupted.

“That’s mine,” Sam said, digging it out of his shirt pocket. “Could you help her with her bags, bud? We’re putting her in the Ripple River room, up at the house.”

Isabel watched him put the phone to his ear and walk toward the far end of the porch.

“You were past Longmont when I saw you, only a few miles from here,” the younger man said, returning to the conversation Isabel would have been happy to forget.

She felt silly about getting lost, but this had been her first time to travel so far without her sisters to help navigate. Considering the non-map-reading child she’d had for company, she’d done all right to lose her way only once in almost six hundred miles.

“You must have made a loop back around.”

“Must have.” She stuck her hand out. “Isabel Blume, from Kansas.” She paused, then said, “Well, I guess you know quite a bit about me already. But we didn’t trade names.”

He pressed his hand into hers, his grip firm and warm.

“Trevor Kincaid.” He broke the clasp immediately.

“You’re Trevor?” She might have recognized his voice if she’d been expecting to meet someone she knew out on that highway. But who’d have dreamed that a law professor would be so strong and rugged looking?

But then, Darla had told her that Trevor was also an avid outdoorsman. And that he was deadly serious at times and a load of fun at others.

Come to think of it, Isabel knew a lot about him already, too. And judging from the things that Darla had said, she was going to like him. “I don’t know if you remember, but we spoke on the phone once. It’s great to meet you in person!”

“Mmm-hmm.” He backed up a step. “If you’ll pop the trunk, we can unload.”

Whoa! What had just happened? Isabel’s enthusiastic greeting had been met with a distinct coolness.

She would disregard the snub. Perhaps she’d imagined it. “Old-fashioned car, old-fashioned opener,” she said, handing Trevor her trunk key.

“If you’ll help me grab some bags, we can probably do this in one trip.” Trevor opened the trunk, stared inside and added, “Or maybe not.”

She had brought a lot. In addition to her own luggage, there were Angie’s smaller suitcases and two boxes of toys. Isabel had designed a quilt to give Sam and Darla as a wedding gift. That was in another box.

Everything inside this trunk was necessary. Isabel ignored Trevor’s attitude and helped him unload. They set the garment bag and suitcases on the ground, then stacked the boxes beside them.

When they got down to Angie’s pink floral suitcases, Trevor took them out, his expression puzzled, and slammed the trunk lid.

Did he think those cases belonged to her? “The Barbie cases aren’t mine,” Isabel said. “They belong to Ang—”

“Shh! Did you hear that?”

She had. It had been a soft, high-pitched sound.

“Could be one of the calves.” He peered toward the east.

Isabel listened again, then glanced at the car window. “No, that’s Angie. The slam of the trunk lid must have awakened her.”

Sure enough, the little girl’s head poked up in the seat, and her face soon appeared in the window. “Izzabell, can I come out now?” she bellowed.

“I can’t wait until she sees how gorgeous this place is,” Isabel said as she walked around the car. “She missed seeing the mountains as we approached Denver.”

Opening the door, Isabel grinned when Angie emerged. With tangled red hair and sleep creases pressed into one cheek, she was still adorable. “Come here, hon.” Isabel took the little girl by the hand and led her to where Trevor waited.

He bent down to speak to the child. “Hi, Angie. I’m Professor Kincaid,” he said. “Would you like to see some hummingbirds?”

Angie nodded.

He turned to point at a massive pine tree, off near a footpath into a wooded area. “See those feeders hanging from the limbs? There are usually several birds hovering around them. You can see them better from the path. Go take a look, if you’d like.”

Angie headed in that direction. When Isabel started to follow her, Trevor caught her eye. “She’ll be within sight. Let her go.”

After Angie had skipped away, he asked, “Why is she here?”

“I told you about that on the highway. Remember?”

“Not really.”