Page 24 of Tell Me Again
Unfortunately, Fred remained oblivious. “You know Mike Wall’s old man did all the work for her when she bought the place. He was so in awe he could barely speak her name. But the old man wasn’t exactly a go-getter. Mike was pretty damn excited when the princess called him after the storm.”
“She’s not a princess,” Trevor said through gritted teeth.
“Hey, Mike,” Fred yelled, waving to someone across the store. “Trevor Kincaid is trying to dip his pen in your ink.”
“Let it go, Fred,” one of the other men said, but it was too late. Mike Wall, a tall hulk of a man with rumpled brown hair and a few days of stubble, was moving toward their group.
Trevor counted to ten in his head and flicked his eyes toward the front door. He thought about walking away from the order he was placing. It had been a long time since he’d gotten in a fight, but the urge to slam his fist into Fred’s jowly face thrashed around his brain.
“She’s not a princess,” he repeated, “and no one is boinking anyone.”
Fred only clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Mike, you’ve been thrown over for Trevor. Your big plans of sweeping that supermodel off her feet and onto her back are officially screwed.”
“Unlike you, Mike,” another man piped up.
“Sam Carlton is hot but a bitch,” Mike said, a sneer curling his lips. “Hell, she might even be into women, if you know what I mean.”
“She’s running a summer camp, not a brothel.” Trevor fisted his hands at his sides. “She wanted you to give her a bid for repairs, not hit on her. Have some class.”
“Fuck you, Kincaid.” Mike shouldered forward. “You think you’re better than all of us and sticking your—”
The punch landed against Mike’s jaw with a satisfying crunch before the sentence was out. The man’s head snapped back, but he hadn’t earned the local nickname of Mike “The Wall” for nothing. He immediately slammed a fist into Trevor’s face, making him stumble back against the counter. Trevor shook it off, perversely grateful for an outlet for his frustration. He pushed off the counter, ready to go at it again, but several men held him back. A few others grabbed Mike’s shoulders, effectively separating the two of them. Otis Whitton came barreling out of his office.
“What the hell, you two? This is a family business, not a biker bar. None of that crap in here.”
That reminder was all Trevor needed to get a hold of himself. There was a reason he hadn’t been in a fight in years. He was a respected business owner, not a brawler. “Sorry, Otis.” He looked at the two men holding him. “It’s over,” he said and then pointed at Mike. “Not another word about her. Your dad is a good man, and he deserves better than you disgracing the family’s reputation with your trash talk.”
He leveled a look at Fred, who lifted his hands, palms up. “Nothing more from me, either.”
Trevor signed the order form on the counter and shoved it forward. “Put these on my account, Otis,” he said and stalked out of the store.
Sam was reviewing camper applications early Monday afternoon when David Henderson knocked and then let himself into the small cabin that she used as an office during the off-season.
“Everything going according to schedule?” she asked, turning away from the computer monitor.
The older man crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you sure Trevor Kincaid is the right man to be handling the repairs?”
Sam frowned. She’d seen Trevor arrive at camp an hour ago to meet with the electrician. It was the reason she was holed up in the office—easier to avoid him this way.
“It seems like this job would be simple compared to building houses,” she answered. “Don’t you think he can handle it?”
David scrubbed a hand over his white beard. Put a red cap on his head and David Henderson would be a dead ringer for Santa Claus. He was as quiet as his wife was talkative and Sam appreciated his steady hand in taking care of the property. “He can probably handle it, but that doesn’t mean he’s the right man for the job.” He paused then added, “For you.”
“He’s notforme,” Sam said quickly and swallowed against the emotions that rose in her throat. David was worried for her, even if he had no reason to be. She’d never met her father and her mother had refused to speak about him. David Henderson had been the first man to feel like something of a dad to her, and despite his reserved nature, she knew he cared deeply for the people he loved. Sam was honored to be among that group. “He’s doing this to keep an eye on me with his daughter.” She’d shared the bare bones of her history with Trevor and the connection to Grace with the Hendersons after Grace’s first visit to the camp.
“He got in a fight with Mike Wall at Whitton’s store earlier this morning.” David stared out the high window that looked toward the lake as he said the words. “Although knowing Mike, I’m sure he deserved it.”
Sam felt her mouth drop open. “What do you mean ‘he deserved it’?” A sick pit opened in her stomach. “Why were they fighting?”
David continued to gaze out the window. “Otis wouldn’t tell me the details. He just said to keep on eye on you.”
“I’ve got to talk to Trevor,” she said, shoving her feet into the winter boots sitting next to her desk. “I don’t need him to defend me against assholes like Mike.”
“How do you—”
“We both know how Mike feels about me, especially after I wouldn’t hire him to do the repairs. I’ll handle this, David.”
“Now Sam—” he started, but she was already out the door.
