by Kaitlyn Rice
The game’s constant beeps stopped, and Angie skipped to the doorway. “I’m hungry. Can I eat, too?”
“Certainly.” Darla peered down at the little girl. “What sounds better? Ham sandwiches or peanut butter and jelly?”
“S’mores!”
Darla grimaced. “You want S’mores for lunch?”
“At R.J.’s sleep-away camp, he godda have S’mores,” Angie said, licking her lips. “He said they godda have ’em every single day, wif a chocolate bar an’ two marshmallows.”
Darla laughed, promising to stock up on those ingredients as soon as possible.
She was still commenting on how cute Angie was an hour later, while she and Isabel stood at her kitchen sink washing lunch dishes. Angie was sitting nearby, devouring a slice of chocolate cake—the closest thing to S’mores that Darla had on hand.
Isabel and Angie spent the afternoon in the office with Darla, who was behind on paperwork. Isabel began addressing and stamping a stack of wedding invitations while Angie poked at the keys of an old manual typewriter.
The little girl wasn’t a problem. Darla was clearly smitten with her, and the pair reminded Isabel of each other. Both were tiny, and both were full of bounce.
After dinner, Isabel took Angie to their shared bedroom so the little girl could talk to her dad and brother on the telephone. Isabel spoke to Roger only briefly, answering questions about her car’s performance during the trip, then she handed the phone to the little girl while she sat nearby, stitching a beaded-bell wedding favor.
Angie prattled, telling her dad about their night in a Goodland, Kansas, motel, then she enumerated every detail about their arrival here—from the electronic game to the chocolate cake to the typewriter.
As she waited, Isabel thought about all that had happened today, too. However, she thought about the whole mess with Trevor Kincaid.
It was funny, but out there on the highway this morning, she’d felt playful and relaxed with him. Josie’s flex-your-flirt-muscles advice had been fresh in her mind, so she’d been friendly to the good-looking stranger.
And when she’d touched him, she’d caught his reaction. His muscles had tightened, his eyes had erupted and her thoughts had turned shamelessly to what he must be like in bed.
The strength of her reaction to him had shocked her. She’d never felt such a surge of sexuality. Maybe she was a sexual adventurer at heart. Maybe that natural curiosity had caused her to be distracted. And maybe that was when Trevor had formed a bad impression of her.
Damn. She’d be a fool to worry about him. Her plan for the summer was to have a blast helping Darla while Roger stayed at home, hopefully missing her.
And she would have fun, she knew.
As soon as she stopped worrying about Trevor Kincaid.
Chapter Four
On Monday morning, Trevor parked in front of the lodge almost a full hour before his usual arrival time and sat eyeing the open door. That had to be Darla inside at this time of day. Darla made great coffee.
She usually didn’t lecture, but Trevor had to admit, she’d been right to rough him up last Friday afternoon. He’d been a jerk. He hadn’t meant to insult Darla’s guests.
He’d meant to be strong. Brisk. Businesslike.
He’d overreacted to Isabel. But he’d be fine. After their embarrassing chat in the lodge laundry room, Isabel would surely keep him at a distance.
Which was best for all concerned.
When Trevor caught himself drumming on his steering column, replaying a few of last Friday’s happenings, he yanked his keys from the ignition. After stepping out of his Jeep, he strode toward the entry and Darla’s coffee.
He needed to catch up with work he should have done this weekend, when he’d stayed home to nurse his battle wounds. This morning, he’d round up the first-aid kits and get them out to the cabins before the counselors arrived for their initial day of training.
He walked into the main reception area, noted Darla’s half-empty glass of iced tea on her coaster, then grabbed a cup of coffee and went through to his office.
Thankful for Darla’s skill with the aging coffee machine, Trevor sat down to flip the pages of his desk calendar while he sipped. When he heard her shuffling papers at her desk a minute later, he called out a good morning.
She mumbled.
“Today’s first-aid day,” he said. “Can you help with the training after lunch? It’ll probably take about two hours. The Walters boys ought to remember a lot from last year.”
A silence followed.
Was she still upset about his bad behavior with her friend? But she’d already hollered at him for that. She should give him a chance to try again.
Trevor got up and walked to the doorway to check on her.
Isabel was sitting at Darla’s desk, drinking iced tea from the same sort of glass Darla always used, pondering the same question he’d meant to ask Darla.
She appeared as stunned to see him in the doorway as he was to see her at Darla’s desk. “First-aid day,” she said. “Uh. Sure. Guess I could handle that.”
What could he do? He’d promised everyone he would be a good sport and give Isabel a chance, and here she was indicating that she could help.
“Okay. Good. About one o’clock in the picnic area between the cabins.”
“All right.” She nodded, watching him, looking…expectant. She was waiting for him to leave.
He would, in a moment. Trevor raised his eyebrows and glanced around the reception area. “Where’s your sidekick?”
“Which one?”
“Either.”
“Now that the wedding is on again, Darla and Sam need to catch up on their premarital counseling sessions,” she said. “They drove to Longmont to meet with the minister, and should return by lunchtime.”
“And the little girl? Angie, was it?”
She didn’t react to his recall of the child’s name, even though Trevor was impressed with himself.
“She’s asleep,” Isabel said. “The housekeeper’s over there making up the beds. She promised to call me the minute Angie wakes up.”
Trevor had promised honesty. Now he’d see how Isabel reacted to it. “How will you handle her this afternoon?” he asked. “We’ll be outside in a wooded area. She might be excited or whiny or afraid of bears. Will you be able to concentrate on the training?”
“She won’t be there. Darla promised to take her swimming this afternoon.”
So, Darla intended to babysit Angie at the pool, and Isabel planned to help him out at the cabins. That sounded backward.
“Or you could swim with Angie, and Darla could help me,” he said, keeping his tone patient.
“I’m not a swimmer,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to help Angie if she got into trouble.”
“You don’t swim at all?”
She shook her head, her blue eyes solemn. “Not at all.”
Trevor frowned, again getting the vague impression that Isabel had stepped out of a simpler time. He wondered at the chances of her knowing first aid. Many of his counselors had learned basic first aid during swim lessons, and he built on that knowledge here at camp.
“All right, then. So you’re Darla today?”
She managed a ghost of a grin. “Guess I am.”
He glanced at his watch. “This year’s counselors will begin arriving any minute. If you’ll shoot them into my office, I’ll get their paperwork finished.”
Before Isabel could respond, the phone rang and she picked it up. “Burch Lodge, Isabel speaking.”
Trevor waited, thinking he might need to take the call, but Isabel looked away from him. “Oh, good. Angie’s awake. Be right over. Thanks.”
So, Trevor was left to watch for his own counselors. He didn’t see Isabel again until the afternoon, when his crew was gathering round the picnic area to start the first-aid training session.
This was a good bunch. The Walters brothers had worked at the camp last year. They’d been great with the younger bo
ys and were talented climbers. The three new men, all college students, were enthusiastic and responsible.
Within a minute Isabel appeared down the narrow path that wound through a thicket of evergreens.
He watched his crew. Quick greetings were followed by long stares and big smiles.
Lord. He remembered what he’d been like at that age. Full of hormones, interested in almost any female and lacking a true concern for what might happen if a girl’s yes led to a consequence.
For him it had. Eventually.
But Isabel had dressed conservatively, in khaki shorts much like his own. He’d just have to work harder to command the guys’ attention. He indicated with a nod that Isabel should take a place at the tables, so she walked around to the front and sat down, ready to listen.
Atta girl. His best bet would be to just teach this thing, and maybe allow her to volunteer a wrist or an ankle for bandage wrapping.
He immediately began his talk, reviewing the procedures for shock and evacuation. When he started to talk about bleeding injuries, he was startled when Isabel stood up beside him to demonstrate the appropriate pressure points.
Minutes later, Isabel nodded when he talked about how to identify venomous spiders and snakes. When he described poison ivy and oak rashes, her raised hand surprised him again. “Yes, Isabel?”
“Calamine lotion works great, but you can also take vitamin C and calcium to prevent infection and boost your immune response.”
Okay, she had some health knowledge. “Good. Thanks. Anyone else know alternative treatments?” Trevor glanced around at the college men.
Isabel shoved her hand in the air again.
“Yes?”
“You could mix water with oatmeal or cornstarch, making a paste to put on the rash, or you can even rub watermelon rind on it.” She grinned at the guys, who’d chuckled at her sass.
“Watermelon rind?” he asked.
“It dries up the rash.”
“Anything else?”
“If you break an arm or leg, go to the doctor.”
Now the guys laughed out loud.
“And after she sets your bone, eat half a pineapple every day,” she said. “Fresh pineapple, not canned. It contains an enzyme that reduces swelling.”
Another obscure fact he hadn’t known. Wonderful.
Trevor split the guys into pairs to practice CPR techniques, but his odd-numbered group left one man out.
“I’ll work with someone,” Isabel said.
Dusty, the one who’d been left without a partner, received a couple of claps on the back, but the guys weren’t too obnoxious.
Judging from the twenty-year-old’s reddening cheeks, he’d had more experience with campfires than females. “Don’t get too happy,” Trevor told him. “We’re not actually performing CPR. No touching.”
“Of course not, chief.”
Trevor turned to address the group. “Walk each other though the procedures. I’ll come round in a few minutes to check your techniques.”
An hour later, they’d finished the course. After the counselors had demonstrated mastery of the necessary skills, Trevor thanked Isabel sincerely and watched her wander through the trees toward the lodge.
“What’s up next, chief? We hiking this afternoon?”
Dusty’s question interrupted thoughts Trevor didn’t want to be having. He pulled his attention to his itinerary. “That’s the plan,” he said. “But you’ve earned a break. Grab your suits. We can take about an hour to swim.”
The men scrambled into the cabins, but Dusty stayed behind. “Think we should invite Isabel to join us?” he asked.
That one was easy. “She doesn’t swim.”
Dusty stared at him a moment, his eyes huge behind his glasses. “We could ask her, anyway. She could stand around in the shallow end and cool off. She worked as hard as we did this afternoon, you know.”
“I do know that, Dusty. But I don’t think she’d be interested. Really.”
Still, Dusty didn’t leave. “Are you two, you know, dating?” he asked.
Trevor studied the younger man’s intense expression. He was nerdier-looking than the average counselor, but he obviously had some guts.
He also had a good little crush going, damn it.
Trevor drifted toward the cabins, hoping Dusty would follow him as he awaited an answer.
He did.
They reached the doorway, and still Dusty waited.
Trevor pointed a thumb at the door. “Go get your suit, Dusty, and please remember why you’re here. The kids arriving next week are at the age when they could head for trouble. They need strong male role models. That’s you and me, okay? This isn’t Find A Date.com.”
Dusty vanished into the cabin. Finally.
But Trevor was still contemplating Dusty’s question two evenings later, as he headed across to Sam and Darla’s private dwelling for a barbecue.
He and his crew of big, sweaty guys had spent hours exploring trails, reviewing mountaineering safety and brushing up on their camp stove skills. They still had work to do before the campers arrived, but everyone was up for another break.
Trevor had given the crew a night of freedom, and they’d caravanned to Longmont to have dinner and visit the local pubs.
“Are you two dating?” Dusty had asked.
A simple question.
Should’ve been a simple answer: no.
But in refusing to answer it, Trevor had put a crazy idea into his own head.
Maybe he should relax.
Maybe he should allow himself to enjoy Isabel’s company, and be sure the boys noticed him enjoying it.
The benefits would be several: Sam would stop hinting about wasted opportunities, and Dusty’s tongue would return to his mouth. Perhaps Trevor would even figure out why he couldn’t get Isabel out of his head.
Or maybe he should talk himself out of an idea that he’d normally find insane.
An evening in Isabel’s company should help him answer the question, either way. One thing was for certain. The next few hours should be interesting.
He walked into the house through Sam’s garage door, just as he always had, and found Sam and Darla talking in the kitchen while Darla pulled ingredients from the fridge. As soon as he walked in, they stopping chatting.
That was different.
Sam turned around on his stool to eye Trevor. “How was River Wall?” he asked, naming the crag where Trevor had taken the crew climbing this afternoon.
“Great. Dusty managed to get up Pocket Hercules, if you can believe that.”
“Sure I can. The kid’s tougher than he looks.”
Trevor approached the breakfast bar and pulled out another stool, wondering about the whereabouts of Darla’s house guests. But before he could sit, Darla caught his eye. “Hey, Trev, would you do me a favor?”
“Depends.”
She nudged a platter of marinated chicken sitting on the center island. “The grill’s already going. If you handle the entree, Sam here can help me finish the other dishes.”
“Sam learn to cook sometime recently?”
“I’ve been teaching him a few things,” Darla said, her hazel eyes narrowed. “He can set the table and round up drinks. You men are more resourceful than you look, you know.”
“All right, all right! I’m going.” Trevor walked across and grabbed the platter. “See you two later,” he said, whistling on his way out.
Isabel would be outside, somewhere in the vicinity of the grill. Trevor didn’t have to hear Sam and Darla’s conversation to know what they’d plotted.
Not a setup—Darla and Sam weren’t stupid—but a friendly meeting. They wanted their best friends to get along. Little did they know, Trevor wanted to see Isabel. He wanted to gauge their response to each other in a relaxed atmosphere and figure out for himself whether he should forget his crazy idea or go for it.
Sure enough, she was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs, facing the tree-lined riverbank at the northwest edge
of the property.
“You lose your buddy tonight?”
Isabel started, then jumped from her chair. “Oh, hi,” she said, turning around to face him. “Angie’s inside. She fell asleep a while ago.”
He frowned as he opened the grill cover and began to transfer chicken pieces from the platter to the hot rack. “Before eight o’clock?”
“She’s been avoiding naps. Maybe I should go check on her.” Isabel approached him and the house beyond, her arms wrapped around her torso as if she was cold.
Trevor shifted toward her, blocking her path. “Please stay.” At her surprised look, he explained, “I believe we’ve been sent out here on a mission.”
She gazed at the now-empty platter. “To cook the meat course for our dinner?”
“No…well, yes. That, and getting to know each other better.” He closed the grill cover, set the platter on the side table and peered at Isabel in the darkness. He wished he could see the expression in those deep blue eyes.
“Why?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. Probably because we’re their best man and maid of honor and they want their wedding to go well. And maybe also because we’re their good friends, and they can’t figure out why we didn’t hit it off in the first place.”
“Why didn’t we?”
Of all the questions she might have asked, he hadn’t expected that one. “Good question,” he said, then strode across to the riverbank to grab two chairs and drag them closer to the grill. “It’ll be warmer up here. Sit.”
She sat alongside him and waited.
“Guess I’m pretty focused on the camp,” he said, knowing he could only offer her a portion of the truth. The other explanation still confused him, and it might embarrass them both.
The unexplainable, inappropriate attraction.
“I come up here knowing it’s a load of work and a big responsibility, and I guess I avoid possible problems.”
“And you thought I’d be a problem because of what happened between Betsy and Dylan?”
“You know about them?”
“Darla filled me in.”
“This camp means a lot to me,” Trevor said. “I normally teach university students—environmental law—but these younger boys, well, there’s a certain age when they can take the wrong path and wind up destroying their lives.”