by Kaitlyn Rice
“Hi, Darla! I have great news.”
“News?” Darla said. “Didn’t you go to a wedding with Roger today? What, did he finally get a clue?”
“Uh, no,” Isabel said, “but I had fun and I…well, I’m feeling a need to escape home for a while. I’m coming out to Colorado, after all.”
“You and Roger are coming here?” Darla asked.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Isabel said. “But no. Just me.”
Darla was quiet for a moment. “Didn’t you say you’d never traveled this far on your own?”
“Yes, I did. Since Mom died, I’ve always traveled with my sisters. Sounds funny, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, I understand why you’d be nervous,” Darla said. “I’d be, if I’d had your childhood.”
“Well, I’m ready to try something new. I’ll be at your wedding,” Isabel said. “I want to celebrate with you. Besides, it’s time I got away from Roger and let him miss me a little, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.”
Something in her friend’s tone caught Isabel’s attention. “What’s wrong, Darla?”
“My mom’s going through a rough spell, Izzy. We thought the July date would be perfect, but I’ve been busy helping Mom. We haven’t had time to plan, and the camp’s starting soon.” Darla paused, then dropped the bomb. “We called off the wedding.”
Disappointment welled up inside Isabel, and felt so heavy in her chest that she sank down onto a kitchen chair. “But that’s awful. And you must be busier still, contacting everyone to let them know.” She lowered her voice. “Do you mean to say you won’t be marrying Sam?”
“We’re postponing the ceremony, not canceling it, and we hadn’t invited many people yet. I sent your invitation early because I wanted to give you time to consider coming. I knew it’d be hard for you to get away.”
Darla had been so excited about her big day. Their conversations about mothers and sickness had been overtaken by more hopeful talk about how many guests to invite, how to decorate and which foods to serve at the reception. “I’m so sorry, Darla.”
“I am, too. And I apologize for the mix-up. I should’ve called to tell you, even though you’d already declined.”
Still shaken, Isabel remained quiet.
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 f
rom 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.
“I’m so glad you stopped,” the woman said as she pressed a palm to her heart. “I wasn’t sure if what people said about strangers was true.”
“Depends on what you’ve heard people say.”
She studied his face for a moment, her expression pensive. She must have decided he was okay then, because she dropped her hand. “Guess that’s true.”
Another half second, then she chuckled. “There’s not much up here, is there?”
Trevor gazed around at the scenery. They were standing in a canyon a few dozen miles east of Rocky Mountain National Park. Massive rocks towered to the sky on their left. A brook flowed by thirty feet down on their right. The spruce and pines were especially fragrant this time of year, making the earth smell clean.
He loved this area. He’d grown up exploring this wilderness. The woman’s idea of not much was a far cry from his.
Apparently, she’d understood his thoughtful perusal of the land, because she opened her eyes wide and said, “Oh, it’s beautiful out here. I meant there isn’t much civilization. I was hunting for landmarks, but I kept seeing that rock wall on one side and the river on the other. I’m trying to find Longmont. Do you know it?”
Oh. So she was lost, not stranded. Great, he’d give her directions and get on his way. “I traveled through there a few minutes ago, which means you’re headed away from it. Turn around, and you’ll see a sign fairly soon. Take a left toward town. Then you can’t miss it.”
She frowned. “I’m not so sure. I must be lousy at directions. I stopped a half hour ago to ask at a convenience store, and look what happened. Would you mind showing me on my map?”
That would mean he wouldn’t get to the lodge as early as he’d hoped. But the woman acted so…innocent. He’d feel like a brute if he got home tonight and heard a news story about some female traveler who’d run into bad luck.
“Sure.” As soon as he’d said it, the wind whirled down the canyon and picked up the bottom of that skirt again. “Maybe we’d better do this in your car,” he added.
She frowned. Perhaps she was reconsidering the wisdom of trusting a stranger. Atta girl.
“I meant that you could sit in your car with the map, and I could stand outside and point out the way. I wouldn’t want your map to blow off down the road.”
“I figured that was what you meant,” she said. “But I have a little girl napping in my car. We might wake her.”
She had a child in the car? Trevor was oddly disappointed to hear it, but even more glad he’d stopped.
The woman bit her bottom lip, her brows lowering. “I could take the map to your car,” she said after a moment.
“That’d work.”
The woman teetered in her shoes as she crossed the gravel. She opened her car door, and Trevor tried not to watch those legs as she leaned in to grab the map. Gently she closed her car door again, then went around to the Jeep’s passenger side.
She wanted to get in?
Man, she was gullible. Trevor considered giving the woman a safe-travel lecture, but instead simply opened his door and slid into the driver’s seat.
“I can’t believe Angie conked out this early in the day,” the woman said after they’d closed themselves inside. “We had a long drive yesterday, and she resisted my wake-up call this morning.”
Trevor studied the woman’s face again, wondering if she could be sleeping through the reports of kidnappings, molestations and robberies that dominated the news every day. He could think of several things this woman had done wrong this morning. She’d left her little girl alone in an unlocked car, for one.
Maybe she was from some quiet little burg where nothing bad ever happened. “Where’re you coming from?” he asked.
“Augusta, Kansas, about twenty miles east of Wichita.” She shrugged. “It’s a small town, but it was in the news last year when a good portion of the town flooded. The president declared our county a national-disaster area.”
A national disaster sounded bad enough.
“Were you and your husband affected?” he asked.
“I’m not married.” Briefly she lifted her ringless hand. “But yes, my house was damaged. I had to move out for a few months, until my family and I finished repairs.”
Not married. That explained some of it. Most husbands would have coached this reckless optimist about highway safety.
Ignoring the twitch in his libido at the new knowledge of her single status, Trevor took the map from the woman to study it.
Single or not, she was merely traveling through.
“You are so considerate to help me,” she said. “Roger told me I should stay home. He actually said I was too naive to travel alone. I told him to bug off.”
This Roger sounded sharp. Trevor knew he had no business asking, but he was curious. “Who’s Roger?”
The woman appeared to be startled by the question.
“Roger’s my, uh, neighbor. And Angie’s father.” She nodded. “He lives down the road a couple of miles. Anyway, Angie’s mother remarried recently, which surprised everyone since she’d known the guy all of a month. She’d taken time off to spend the summer with her kids, and suddenly that plan changed. Angie was heartbroken, so of course I brought her with me.”
Trevor knew that story. Too many people had kids and discovered later that it would take eighteen years to raise them. After murmuring his agreement that bringing the child was the right thing to do, he started detailing the best return route to Longmont.
“I truly appreciate this,” she said as she took her map from him moments later.
“It was nothing.”
“You’re a gentleman. Thanks.” She reached across the seat to pat his shoulder. But the touch was too soft. Trevor’s body responded as if it were a caress.
She must have felt that zing of attraction, too. She stared at the point of contact, then frowned and snatched back her hand.
Trevor met her gaze as an awareness flowed between them. He’d noticed her, sure enough.
Legs. Eyes. Warmth.
Now he knew she’d noticed him, too.
He tensed, willing away his body’s immediate and senseless response. It’d been a while, and she was sexy.
And a complete stranger, headed down the road in the opposite direction. Their paths had crossed for a few minutes. That was all. He hid his crazy regret behind a grin. “No problem.”
He was already too late to worry about the time, so Trevor decided to maintain his gallant image. He jumped out of the Jeep to run around and open her door for her. “Have fun in Longmont, doing whatever,” he said as she stepped onto the gravel shoulder.
“Thanks. And you have—” she gazed up the highway with a thoughtful frown, then refocused on him and shrugged “—a good life, I guess.”
Trevor watched to make sure she got in her car and turned around, then started his Jeep and drove away to do exactly as she’d suggested.
Less than t
en minutes later, he sped up the drive that led to the Burch ranch. Although Sam’s parents had run a small-scale cattle operation here when he was growing up, their more enterprising son had added the lodge and guest cabins soon after taking over.
For the past three years Trevor had used part of his summer hiatus to come up here and direct a summer wilderness experience for teenage boys. He loved it, even if the precamp organization was a chore.
As he parked in front of the main lodge, he was pleased to see the front door open. That had to be Sam inside. Darla should be returning from Greeley this morning, after spending several days with her sick mother.
A gravelly voice drifted out from the back as soon as Trevor walked through the door. “You’re late.”
“Oh, I know. I stopped to help some woman out on the county road.”
“Car trouble?” Sam appeared in his office doorway, sipping a cup of coffee.
“Just hopelessly lost in some rattletrap car.” Trevor’s eyes were glued to Sam’s cup. “Any of that left?”
When Sam nodded, Trevor crossed to Darla’s work area to pour himself some. He took a sip and winced. Sam might be a master at mixing protein meal for his cattle, but he couldn’t remember how many scoops of coffee to put in a pot. Today he’d overshot by about two.
“Problem?” Sam scanned Trevor’s face.
“This is fine.”
Sam leaned his gaunt frame against the door sill. “You are really, really late. What’d you have to do, draw the woman a detailed map of the entire state?”
“No, I showed her the way on her map. That’s all.”
Sam held his gaze, then one side of his mouth lifted. “Must’ve been a looker.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re surly.”
Trevor lifted his cup. “Nah, caffeine just hasn’t had time to take effect.”
“This is more than a normal morning grump. If you hadn’t been interested in this woman, you’d be telling me all about what happened on that highway.” Sam narrowed his gaze, studying him. “I’m thinking she was a red-hot redhead.”
Ignoring him, Trevor took another sip of coffee and repressed the grimace when it went down.