The Runaway Bridesmaid. Kaitlyn Rice
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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.”
Isabel squinted at him, thinking he’d changed since their first meeting. She explained again in more detail, about Angie’s mother’s surprise announcement that she was remarrying, and the argument that had followed between Roger and his ex about what to do with Angie while all of the adults in her life followed other pursuits.
“I didn’t want Angie to feel as if she was nothing but a bother, so I brought her with me,” Isabel finished, shrugging. “Darla knew I might have to bring her. She suggested it, actually.”
“And you said Roger was…who?”
“My neighbor,” Isabel said, feeling deceptive. But her status with Roger confused even her. Her sisters had convinced her to break up with him for the summer. Josie had advised her to talk to every man she met so she could find out exactly how wrong their mother had been about the entire male population.
Flexing her flirt muscles, she’d called it.
Big sister Callie had said almost the opposite—that Isabel should discover what it felt like to be on her own for a while.
Recognizing the wisdom in both of her sisters’ advice, Isabel had declared a summer of independence from Roger.
His response? “Do what you have to do. I’ll be here when you get home.”
So she wasn’t with Roger, exactly, even though she still hoped he’d propose when she returned from this trip.
Angie hollered that she couldn’t see any birds, so Isabel and Trevor started toward the path. “I’d forgotten you had a kid in the car at all,” Trevor said on the way. “Aren’t you staying until Sam and Darla’s wedding?”
“Yes, I am.”
They reached Angie, and Trevor bent down near the child to point out a couple of fluttering shapes. “Those are hummingbirds,” he said. “You have to stand real still, and watch them a few minutes. Then you’ll see.”
“Oh, those! They look like big ol’ bugs!”
“I know they do at first. But keep watching them.”
He stood up and scowled at Isabel. “She’s staying all summer, too?”
She studied the tiny row of dimples that had formed above his eyebrows. “No. When Angie’s mom returns from her honeymoon in a few weeks, she’ll fly through Denver. We’ve already planned to meet at the airport, and she’ll take Angie home.”
Trevor kept staring at her. The man might be moody, but he had great eyes. She hadn’t figured out their color yet. Gray? Green? And despite his efforts to hide it, his gaze held a reluctant interest in her that was enticing.
She’d have to be careful around him. He seemed…dangerous.
“I called Darla at her mother’s house early yesterday morning to tell her about it,” Isabel said. “Guess she got busy and didn’t pass along the message.”
“But starting next Monday, we’ll be running an orienteering camp up here,” Trevor said. “The boys are older, between twelve and eighteen, and expect to learn real wilderness skills. We explore offsite part of the time, but when we’re on property we attempt some dangerous things. We work with gear—fish hooks and climbing apparatus. Fire. Surely you realize a younger child will be in the way.”
Angie moved closer to Isabel, pressing her face into the side of her waist. After glaring a warning at Trevor, Isabel rubbed the girl’s arm. “It’s all right, hon,” she said. “Darla and I really did discuss this yesterday. She assured me that we’d work out any problems.”
Angie came out from hiding and put her hands on her hips. “Is he jist an ee-bil ol’ Grinch?” she asked in a normal voice.
Isabel stifled a smile. He’d deserved that. Though Trevor had valid concerns, he shouldn’t voice them in front of Angie. “I think the word you’re looking for is grouch,” she corrected, without bothering to lower her voice, either.
He deserved that, too.
Trevor shifted his gaze between Angie and Isabel, then shrugged. “Okay, then. Leave the luggage where it is and come inside.”
Chapter Three
Isabel and Angie followed Trevor through a large office, then into one of several smaller rooms off to the side. He waved toward a bench that ran along a long, windowless wall. “Have a seat,” he said.
“Wow, look at that tree chair!” Angie exclaimed, eyeing the bench constructed from a rough log. She ran the length of it twice, then plopped down in its middle and ran her hand along the smoothed seat.
Isabel remained near the doorway, watching as Trevor strode behind a cluttered desk, sat down and picked up a large map.
She sat on the bench near Angie, feeling confused. “Why are we here?” she asked. “Didn’t Sam mention the Ripple River room?”
“Yes,