Читать книгу The Runaway Bridesmaid - Kaitlyn Rice - Страница 11

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.”