The Runaway Bridesmaid

What did her age have to do with this conversation?

Isabel wondered if the man was ever impressed, and why she cared one way or another. “I’m old enough.”

That map must be incredibly interesting, because he started reading it again.

“Do you have some kind of problem with me?” she asked.

His eyes never left his map. “No.”

“No?”

He flicked a glance toward her feet, of all things.

She slid them farther under the bench and waited for him to look at her. After a drawn-out moment, he did, and those forehead dimples deepened.

She shrugged, soliciting an answer.

“You want honesty?”

“Absolutely.”

He set down his map and watched her a moment, and only the clock’s tick and the scratching of Angie’s pen filled the silence.

“Here it is. Sam and Darla’s normal duties here at the lodge are time-consuming. The wedding planning and the camp add more work.” He nodded toward Angie, who was busy drawing and didn’t notice. “You should’ve realized you were putting Darla on the spot.” He paused, then added, “But of course that’s none of my business. So—” He shrugged. “No.”

Isabel wasn’t going to turn her car around and drive her little friend all the way home, especially since Darla had said it would be fine to bring her.

She glanced at Angie. The little girl was entertaining herself beautifully, drawing a picture of the Grinch with a short haircut like Trevor’s. Isabel wanted to tell Angie to add the row of eyebrow dents.

“I’ll keep her with me,” she said to Trevor, instead. “If I’m busy in the office, she can color or play with some of the toys she brought.”

Trevor folded those strong hands and studied the ceiling for a long while, no doubt thinking hard about his reply. “But you’re here to help Darla,” he finally said.

Isabel shook her head. “And?”

Trevor gave Isabel the same look R.J. sometimes gave Angie—as if her question had been so ridiculous, it was hardly worth answering. “And Darla works her buns off.”

Isabel knew Darla worked alongside Sam, handling everything from branding cattle to managing the guest accounts. But she was paid to do so, and Sam was her fiancé, to boot. This whole place would soon become partly hers.

Isabel had figured she could help wherever she could and stay out of the way otherwise. After all, she was volunteering here this summer.

“I can handle whatever Darla needs me to do and still keep an eye on Angie.”

Trevor’s gaze fell from her face to her chest and lingered, then traveled down her legs. His scrutiny stopped on her sandals again.

Isabel stared at him, waiting for him to finish his inspection. When he raised his gaze to meet her narrowed one, he blinked a couple of times. “Unless you sit out there in Darla’s office every day, the chores are mostly outside.” He lifted a single eyebrow. “Filth. Bugs. Sweat. You’ll hate it here.”

For twenty-seven years, Isabel had lived in a country house that hadn’t been air conditioned until very recently—her eccentric mother hadn’t believed in it. Isabel had learned to work a garden when she was six, and she’d walked the distance into town from the age of eight.

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of dirt or work.”

And she wasn’t intimidated by Trevor Kincaid.

Funny. She’d liked him out on that highway. He’d been considerate to help her, and he’d put up with her nervous babbling. First impressions could be so wrong.

He stared past her head. “Did you notice? She brought a friend.”

Isabel was baffled by the statement until she realized he was talking to Sam, who had arrived in the doorway.

She turned around in time to see Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. His coppery eyes focused on Angie, then Isabel, then Trevor again. “Let’s talk outside, bud.”

Trevor slid off his seat and stalked out of the room behind his buddy. When Isabel heard their footsteps stop on the porch, she got up and crossed to the doorway, wishing she could hear their conversation.

As soon as she stood up, however, Angie popped up off the bench, too, and asked if she could get a drink from the water cooler out in the reception area.

Damn.

Taking the little girl by the hand, Isabel led her out to help her fill a paper cone. A moment later, Sam returned. Alone.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” he said. “It was Darla on the phone, telling me about her mother’s visit with the oncologist. She also explained the situation with your friend. It slipped her mind until I told her you’d arrived.” He shook his head. “Our bustling summer’s already taking its toll on her.”

“I am so sorry to hear that,” Isabel said. “And I hope we haven’t caused too many problems.”

“What problems?” Sam asked, extending her the graciousness she’d sought from Trevor. “You have a choice to make, though. The Woodland room, here at the lodge, is vacant now. It’s big enough for several people. Only problem is, the counselors and camp kids meet to party in the community room next door sometimes. It can get loud.”

“And the other choice?”

“There’s the spare bedroom up at the house. It’s small, you’d be a little squeezed with an added cot, but the little girl might feel more at home.”

“Where’s Trevor staying?”

“After the camp starts, he’ll stay at the lodge.”

“Well, Angie and I would love to stay at the house.”

Sam shoved backward out the screen door. “Follow me,” he said, his lazy grin making Isabel feel much better. “It’s a bit of a walk. I’ll have Trevor grab your things and drive them over.”

Isabel frowned. “But weren’t we going to carry it?”

“That was before I knew you had luggage for two,” Sam said, in a way that didn’t make her feel as if she had messed up.

Isabel didn’t want to be waited on, especially by Trevor. “If you’d give me directions to the house, I could load it back up and drive it over,” she suggested.

Sam glanced at the boxes, bags and cases lining the drive. “We’ll get them, really. I insist.”

Isabel gave in.

As they made their way down a wood chip path lined with evergreen trees, Angie skipped along, singing a made-up song about hummingbirds. Isabel knew she should be enjoying herself, too. She was too upset.