The Runaway Bridesmaid. Kaitlyn Rice

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.”