by Kaitlyn Rice
“Maybe that was part of the reason,” Trevor said, peering at her.
Those forehead dents lined up in full force. Something about their conversation had disturbed him. Isabel wanted to ask, but Sam and Darla returned with two glasses of wine.
Just two.
And they had matching towels draped over their shoulders. “Are you guys interested in a late night swim?” Darla asked. “The water’s heated.”
Isabel accepted one of the glasses. “I need to be here in case Angie wakes up. You go ahead, though.”
She glanced at Trevor then, communicating a silent message. Stay.
“I got enough water today when the kids pushed me in the river,” Trevor said.
But Isabel sensed an echoed response.
He wanted to stay.
As Sam and Darla started toward the lodge, Isabel fended off another onslaught of jumbled feelings. She shouldn’t be spending so much time with this guy while she was on her vacation. She shouldn’t want to kiss him.
She smiled to herself. She might have the inclination to kiss first and talk later, but she couldn’t hurdle the chair arms and get on with it.
She really was a small-town girl at heart.
“What other reason did you have for starting the camp?” she asked, because she was still curious about Trevor’s choices. Parts of him didn’t match up with others.
“Why does there have to be another reason?”
“I can’t see that camp director fits your image.”
“What image?”
“Boulder’s most confirmed bachelor.”
He gave her a funny look.
“You don’t trust women.”
“I trust women.”
“Okay. You don’t trust relationships. Maybe because your parents divorced so many times.”
He gave a slight nod. “There you go.”
“It’s admirable that you devote so much of your time to those boys,” she said. “It simply doesn’t fit my picture of you. Men who don’t want to marry don’t want kids. And men who don’t want kids don’t spend a lot of time with them. And yet here you are.”
Trevor looked disturbed. He set his wineglass on the grass at his feet and stood to face the water. “I don’t talk about this often,” he said. “But I suppose it’s no big secret. Remember when I told you about Clair?”
“The girl you almost married at sixteen?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. Shrugged. “She had the baby. It was a boy. Matthew.”
Isabel set her glass down, too, and got up. After approaching Trevor from behind, she touched his shoulder.
“Wait a minute. You said nature took care of things. I thought—”
“I know what you thought,” Trevor said, his voice rough. “The whole truth is tough to talk about. The baby died before he was a month old, just over fifteen years ago. Matthew would have been the same age as these camp kids. I don’t need a therapist to tell me why I do it.”
“What happened to Matthew?”
“He was born nine weeks early—exactly a week before Clair and I were to marry. His lungs weren’t fully developed. A virus developed into a respiratory infection before he ever left the hospital. He didn’t survive it.”
Isabel stood behind Trevor, wishing she could wrap her arms around him. Feeling as if that, too, would be too bold.
And wondering why she fought her every impulse.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Trevor turned toward her. “Before Matthew was born, I’d wished so many times that Clair wasn’t pregnant,” he murmured. “That I could turn back time. And then, poof, Matthew was gone. Clair and I called off the wedding. I returned to my life.” Though he looked at Isabel, his eyes held a faraway expression. Then his jaw clenched. “I got my wish.”
“You were young,” she said. “And you didn’t wish for your son’s death. You wished you hadn’t made the mistake in the first place.”
“Right.” Trevor chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. “And now you know all my secrets.”
“Not all of them.”
“The most important ones.”
She nodded, sympathizing with Trevor’s painful past but also enjoying the warmth of his body heat so close to her.
So here and now.
“I can’t believe how much I’ve told you about me,” Trevor said. “Have I really only known you a month?”
“It was a major event in your life. Maybe you needed to talk about it.”
“And maybe you’re a good listener.”
Isabel realized Trevor had focused on her. He was present in the moment, too.
And still very alone with her.
Isabel’s world skewed slightly out of place, then, as her perception of Trevor changed. She was no longer only physically attracted to a guy who was sexy and exciting but not her type.
She was attracted to Trevor as a person. He lived the kind of big life she dreamed about. Some people might have drowned their sorrow in drink or drugs. Some might have hardened themselves to other children. Some might not have loved that tiny baby so strongly.
Trevor had, and he’d made the best of things. He had a huge heart for kids, even if he didn’t know it. After he’d gotten over his initial moodiness, he’d been wonderful to Angie.
Being with him, even for one night, might break Isabel’s heart. She should retreat to the house and work on the baby quilt—or any piece of busy work that would take her through such a dangerous night to the clearer thoughts of morning.
She shouldn’t stand here, wishing even more than ever that Trevor would kiss her.
But when he moved forward, she did, too.
Her heart raced. She still felt the breeze against her skin, still smelled the trees and the water, but she saw only Trevor’s face. His lips had parted slightly. His eyes gleamed brilliantly in the darkness.
She’d never forget this moment.
He put his hands on her upper arms, pulling her forward. Then finally he pressed his mouth to hers. His kisses began as pecks, but soon his tongue teased hers, plunging and retreating. His lips sucked gently, making her open herself further to him. Making her wish.
For more skin. More touches. More Trevor.
His arousal pressed against her belly, hard and hot. Her desire turned serious as she felt her lower muscles contract.
She forgot where she was for a moment. Forgot that she was in Colorado. Outside. Standing near a river. Flirting. Exploring. Learning.
She was aware of only him.
When his hands moved down to cup her bottom, pulling her tighter against his heat, she wanted to kneel down with him, right here, and discover if they were good at actions even bolder than kissing.
She couldn’t do that. She and Trevor had met a month ago, and this was their second time kissing. Besides, she knew for a fact that flirting did not include sex.
Even Josie would say so.
So Isabel kissed Trevor one more time, then she backed away. She kept her eyes closed for a minute, making sure her legs were strong beneath her before she looked upon the face that would likely haunt her dreams.
Trevor opened his eyes more slowly, and even in the dim light she could see the desire in his expression. Could read it in his stance. She thought he might ask why she’d stopped, or try to kiss her again.
“You okay?” Trevor asked.
Oh, yes. She was okay. More than okay. She was floating. “Yes.”
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
She frowned. Leave it to Trevor to surprise her.
They both grabbed their wineglasses and carried them to the house. After they reached the French doors, Trevor stopped and stood away from her, his arms and face rigid. “I’ll say good-night here.”
She must have looked confused, because he answered the question she hadn’t asked. “I love kissing you, but I’m thinking we ought to quit while we’re ahead.”
What? Why?
“Right,” she whispered.
“You live in Kans
as. We want different things.”
Now she asked it. “We do?”
He smiled. “The other day at the gazebo, I realized that you are exactly the kind of woman who should get married. You’ll make some guy a beautiful bride.”
She couldn’t imagine marrying anyone if it meant saying goodbye to Trevor now.
“Maybe,” she said.
Was that what this night was about? Why he’d walked over here? Was he saying goodbye?”
“I live here,” he said, peering into her eyes. “I’m happy, here. And I’m not sure we can keep this casual.”
“I know.” She wanted to smooth her hand along his brow and tell him not to worry so much.
“But I’ll be thinking about you, over in Kansas. You’re not the kind of woman a man forgets.”
“I’m not leaving, Trevor.”
“Yet.”
And that was it. Isabel studied his face for a moment, seeing a ton of regret in the set of his jaw, and knew he was right.
She said good-night and walked inside.
She’d head home to Kansas soon. Home to Roger and choices that had once seemed perfect for her.
It was a good thing Trevor was busy with the summer camp, because separation was exactly what she needed. Not because things had cooled off and she wanted him to recognize what he was missing. That was Roger.
With Trevor she needed the separation because the feelings between them raged too hot.
“WHEN MY GREAT-AUNT stays over, she sleeps in Daddy’s bed an’ he sleeps on the sofa,” Angie said as she and Isabel sat across from each other at Sam and Darla’s kitchen table. “Is that what you’re gonna do?”
Isabel watched Angie pick the streusel crust off her cranberry muffin and pop it in her mouth. “What do you mean, hon? Why would I stay at your house overnight?”
“’Cuz you’ll be married to my daddy. He said so.”
Isabel nearly choked on her coffee. “I’m sorry,” she said, working to control her sputtering. “But please explain.”
“When I talked to Daddy last night, he said he really, really misses bofe of us. He might even marry you.”
Isabel frowned. She hadn’t spoken to Roger last night, choosing instead to dial for Angie and wander down the hall to watch television with Sam and Darla. She wasn’t quite sure what to say to Roger. She certainly didn’t want to tell him about her summer here. She didn’t want to ask about his, either. So she avoided him.
Roger existed in Isabel’s real world. Trevor was a part of a dream summer she’d never forget. Isabel didn’t need her mother or sisters to explain the difference.
“Daddy asked if we were ready to come home, but I said we were having too much fun fishing and hiking and ever-thing.” Angie had finished the top of her muffin and was eyeing Isabel’s.
Isabel pushed her plate across the table to Angie.
Her plan was working. The guy who she’d wanted to propose to her for over a year might very well be planning to propose to her. She should be happy.
But she could only think about Trevor.
It was a good thing he’d begun another two-week camp session today. From the sound of things, he’d be very busy with this oldest group, and she wouldn’t see him much.
“Hurry and finish, hon,” Isabel said. “I promised Darla I’d sit in the office this morning. She and Sam are going to town to look at tuxedos.”
“What’s a tusk-ee-doe?” Angie asked.
“That’s tux-ee-do. It’s a suit that a man wears to a wedding or a formal occasion.”
“Will Daddy wear one to your wedding?”
Why did Angie keep bringing up weddings on a day when Isabel didn’t want to think about them? For her whole life, Isabel had dreamed about her big day, and suddenly the thought of rings and proposals made her feel nauseated.
“If your father gets married again, he might wear one,” Isabel told Angie. “But I don’t know if he will get married again, to me or anyone else.”
Angie frowned.
“It’s okay, hon,” Isabel said. “Just remember that no matter what happens, your parents and I will all love you.”
“Mama and Daddy said that when they got a divorce.”
“That’s because it’s true, Ange. Now, let’s get your things and go see Darla.”
“’Kay.” Angie’s brow was still pinched as much as a six-year-old’s could pinch, but she managed to cram the rest of Isabel’s muffin into her mouth.
“And we don’t need to talk about weddings again today, okay?” Isabel said. “I’m tired of talking about them all the time.”
“Ffll-kay.”
Isabel helped Angie gather a few books and toys, then they wandered down the path to the lodge.
Darla was on the phone when they walked in, but she hung up at once. “My cousin’s coming to the wedding. So far, I’ve counted sixteen yeses and four nos.”
“That’s great.” Isabel hoped Angie would remember their nix-on-the-wedding-talk agreement. She didn’t want to know if Roger had made a recent conversion from never-again to possibly-very-soon.
Not now.
Angie had plopped down in her bean bag chair and was unzipping her backpack.
“Are you feeling all right, Miss Angie?” Darla asked. “You don’t usually make such a quiet entrance.”
“I’m not sposed to talk about weddings, so I’m quiet ’cuz you’re talking about weddings.”
Darla directed a puzzled look toward Isabel.
Isabel rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“All right, then.” Darla peered at the little girl. “Well, Miss Angie. If you are interested, I was wondering if you’d like to take a drive with me and Sam in a while.”
Frowning as she removed a doll from the bag and then rummaged inside for its missing shoe, Angie asked, “To see the tusk-ee-does?”
Again, Darla frowned at Isabel.
“Tuxedos.”
“Oh!” Darla nodded. “Yes. We do need to go into the bridal boutique so Sam can check the fit of his suit.” She approached Angie and bent down to whisper, “My wedding’s coming up in three weeks, did you know that?”
“Yep.”
“And since you’ll be here, I had an idea. Would you like to be my flower girl?”
Eyes wide, Angie gasped. “A real flower girl, wif flowers to throw on the floor?”
Darla chuckled. “I take it that’s a yes?”
Angie nodded, beaming.
“Good. Then we can pick out a dress today,” Darla said. “And next door to the boutique there’s a bakery that has the best cherry pie in the whole U.S.A.”
Angie jumped around the office.
“Darla, you don’t need to take her,” Isabel murmured a few minutes later. “I know she’ll need a dress, but I could take her to town later this week. You and Sam will get the chore done quicker without worrying about her.”
“Why would I want the chore to be quick?” Darla asked.
“Because you have enough to worry about with your mother’s illness and the camp.”
“The camp’s going well and my mom is fine today,” Darla said. “I spoke to her this morning and she had plans to go to a movie with some friends. She feels better on the days she doesn’t do chemo.”
“I’m glad,” Isabel said, but something Trevor had said to her once kept running through her mind. She didn’t want to take advantage of Darla’s graciousness. “But you’re still very busy. I’ll keep Angie here.”
“Isabel, stop. Sam and I will enjoy Angie’s company, and it’s only right that we pay for the dress.”
“I’ll buy it.”
“It’s my wedding, and I’d have had to reschedule if not for you,” Darla said. “So shush! Besides, Trevor called.”
That statement halted Isabel’s arguments.
Darla stared at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Just finish what you were saying.”
“He wondered if you could join him and the campers today.”
Why?
>
Isabel clamped her jaw and frowned at Darla.
She’d never told her friend that she and Trevor were anything more than acquaintances, so she couldn’t ask the hundred questions running through her head.
“What’s wrong now?” Darla asked.
“Aren’t the campers going off-site today?” she asked.
“They’re taking the bus over to a canyon where there are some good, fairly easy climbs for the campers to try.”
“Climbs?”
Darla explained. “Rock climbing. You know, you strap into a pulley system and climb the rock face, then rappel down.”
Isabel knew about climbing. She simply couldn’t believe Trevor would ask her to go with the group. They’d said an early goodbye, and he couldn’t actually need her help.
“There’s nothing to climb in south-central Kansas but ladders and stairs,” Isabel said. “I couldn’t be much help. He must be mistaken.”
“I know you’ve never climbed, my dear. That’s why Trevor and Sam and I agreed you might like to try it.”
Isabel stared at her friend. “It can’t be safe for a total novice to help the kids with something so risky.”
“Oh, no! Trevor is an expert, and all of the counselors are seasoned climbers. You’re to go experience it, not teach it.”
Okay. So, for whatever reason, Trevor was reversing his earlier intention to stay away from her. He was asking her to go.
She wasn’t sure she’d be smart to go. She was halfway in love with him, and thinking she’d probably go home to Kansas and forget about men completely.
All of them.
Forever.
She’d be a spinster.
“Isabel!” Darla’s brows had lowered over her hazel eyes, and she shook her head. “You have an opportunity to experience an adventure today. Why aren’t you excited?”
She’d also have an opportunity to feed her obsession for Trevor. She’d caught a glimpse of him late last Thursday afternoon as he’d played soccer with the boys and she’d taken another hike to the gazebo with Angie.
She knew he’d seen her. He’d watched for a moment before some lanky kid had kicked the ball toward the goal and he’d had to dive for it. But he hadn’t acknowledged her.
She’d seen him again across the lodge dining hall on Friday night, and they’d both simply nodded.
