“I think a certain little cowgirl could use some peace and quiet,” Hutch said, looking at Kendra over Madison’s bright tousle of hair. “What if we head out to my place for a while?” Seeing the protest brewing in Kendra’s eyes, he immediately added, “Opal’s there and the fireworks won’t start for hours.”
Kendra sighed, then gave in with a nod.
Madison clearly needed a break from all the hubbub and excitement, and so did she.
They left the fairgrounds, Madison asleep on Hutch’s shoulder and barely waking up when he unlocked the truck and set her gently in her safety seat.
“Did I miss the fireworks?” the child asked drowsily.
“Nope,” Hutch said, buckling her in. “We’re going out to the ranch to spend some time with Opal and Ruffles, but we’ll be back in plenty of time to watch the sky light up. And look—here’s your teddy bear, sitting right here waiting for you.”
Madison nodded and smiled and drifted off, her head resting against the bear’s plush pink shoulder.
Kendra, evidently relegated to sidekick status and feeling like a third wheel, went around the truck, opened the passenger door and climbed inside quickly. She didn’t want to linger, taking the chance that Hutch might goose her in the backside again, the way he had before they left her place.
A wicked little thrill zapped through her at the memory, though.
The drive to the ranch passed in silence, Madison sleeping in back, Kendra at a loss for anything to say, Hutch easy in his skin, as usual, and thinking his own thoughts.
When they pulled in at Whisper Creek, Opal was outside, taking laundry down off the clothesline. Leviticus supervised from beneath a shady tree.
She smiled and waved when she saw them, picked up her laundry basket, and started for the house.
Hutch was carrying Madison, so Kendra took the basket from Opal, after a brief, good-natured tugging match.
“That’s one worn-out little child,” Opal observed as Madison snoozed on, her small arms wrapped loosely around Hutch’s neck. “You were right to bring her away from all that dirt and noise at the rodeo.”
“We’ll be going back in a few hours,” Hutch replied. “She’s dead-set on taking in the fireworks.”
Opal chuckled warmly at that, and softly. “You put her in there on my bed,” she told Hutch, gesturing toward a doorway leading off the kitchen. “That way she’ll be able to hear our voices when she wakes up and won’t be startled to find herself in a strange place.”
Kendra followed Hutch, watched as he laid the child on Opal’s quilted bed, tenderly pulled off her new boots and draped a lightweight comforter over her.
There he goes again, acting like a daddy.
Madison stirred and then succumbed to happy exhaustion.
Back in the kitchen, Opal was pouring coffee for Hutch and Kendra, and brewing tea for herself. The counters were lined with a wide assortment of casseroles and home-baked pies.
“Somebody die?” Hutch asked, reaching toward one of the pies. Leviticus stayed close to him, plainly adoring the man.
Opal stopped what she was doing long enough to slap his hand away. “No,” she said with a sharpness that was soft at the center, “nobody died. We’re getting a new pastor—Lloyd’s decided to retire, God bless him—and he’ll be introduced to the congregation tomorrow morning.”
Kendra, who had missed the last couple of Sunday services, felt mildly chagrined that she hadn’t known such a change was in the works. She opened her mouth to comment, couldn’t think of a single thing to say and closed it again.
“You can have some of that cherry crumble over there,” Opal told Hutch, gesturing toward a pan sitting all alone on top of the stove. “I made that especially for you.”
“Yes,” Hutch said, homing in on the cherry crumble.
Kendra, meanwhile, sat down to sip from the cup of coffee Opal gave her.
“Want some of this?” Hutch asked from across the room, lifting a plate with a double helping of dessert scooped onto it.
“No, thanks,” Kendra said with a weary smile. “It looks delicious, but I’ve had way too much sugar today as it is.”
Hutch came to the table, set his plate down and sat. “You keep this up, Opal,” he teased, admiring the food, “and I might have to put you on my payroll.”
Opal laughed and waved a scoffing hand at him. “That’ll be the day,” she said. “Slade Barlow signs my paychecks. I’m only here to keep you from turning into a seedy old coot who hangs flags and blankets up for window curtains and eats every meal out of a tin can.”
Hutch laughed at the image and nearly choked on the bite he’d just taken.
Kendra, on edge since the bull-riding competition, relaxed a little and even smiled.
“Anyhow,” Opal went on, taking a place at the table to sip her tea, “I’m beginning to think there’s hope for you after all, Hutch Carmody.” She glanced at Kendra, smiled. “Yes, sir, I do think there’s hope.”
Kendra, catching the other woman’s meaning, squirmed a little. “So,” she said with a little too much spirit, “Pastor Lloyd is retiring. Will there be a party in his honor?”
Opal nodded. “Sure,” she said. “We’re planning it for tomorrow, right after church.” An odd, distant expression came into her dark eyes as she pondered, gazing past Kendra’s right shoulder and into deep space. “The new fellow,” she went on, “is a dead ringer for Morgan Freeman. Went to Harvard. And he’s single, too. A widower, like my Willie was.”
Hutch chuckled at that, but he was too busy consuming cherry crumble to make any remarks. Evidently, riding bulls took a lot out of a person, producing a desperate need for simple carbohydrates. Subtly, he slipped a bite or two to the dog.
“You’ve met him?” Kendra asked, mainly to make conversation, though she was a little intrigued by Opal’s sudden wistful mood.
Opal shook her head, and the gesture seemed to bring her back from wherever mental territory she’d wandered off to. “I saw his picture, though,” she said, and Kendra would have sworn the woman was blushing a little, her mahogany cheeks taking on a rosy glow. “I’m on the pastoral selection committee, you know.”
Hutch swallowed, drank some coffee and jammed his fork back into what remained of his cherry crumble. “You hired the man because you think he’s good-looking?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Why, Opal, a person would almost get the impression that you’re on the lookout for another husband.”
She swatted at him, trying hard not to laugh. “You hush,” she chortled, obviously embarrassed.
“I’ll dance at your wedding,” Hutch told her, still grinning.
“You and weddings,” she said, and then made a dismissive sound, conveying faux disgust, and rose to leave the table. “There’s a combination for you.” She paused, sighed, and adjusted the knot at the back of her apron. “I’ve got a lot of cooking to do,” she said, “so I’ll thank you to let me get on with it.”
Hutch finished the cherry crumble and carried his plate to the sink, where he dutifully rinsed it and set it in the dishwasher, along with the fork.
“I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air,” he said.
Again, Kendra felt that strange, surging rush of heat. Her heart struggled up into her throat and pounded there. Was he suggesting...
“It’s a beautiful day,” Opal said, careful not to look in Kendra’s direction. “Why don’t you two take a walk or a horseback ride? I’ll be glad to look after the Little Miss while you’re gone, and Leviticus will be my helper.”
Kendra might as well have been back on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the carnival, the way that room seemed to spin and dip around her.
A walk would probably be harmless, but she didn’t dare go riding with Hutch because she knew where they’d end up.
At the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to say no.
To say anything at all.
Hutch looked at her, one eyebrow slightly raised in question.
“Go ahead,” Opal told
her, blissfully unaware that she, a church-going, Bible-believing woman, was propelling Kendra straight into the dark, raging heart of sin. “Madison will be just fine. Fact is, you’ll probably be back before she even wakes up from her nap.”
Five minutes later, still dazed, Kendra found herself in the barn, watching as Hutch saddled horses for both of them.
Occasionally, he glanced in her direction, but no words passed between them until he’d saddled both horses and led them out into the afternoon sunshine.
There, Hutch turned to look straight into her eyes. His expression was solemn but not sad, calm but not complacent. He’d been clean-shaven that morning, but now his caramel-colored beard was coming in.
“If you want to stay behind,” he told her, “now’s the time to say so.”
Kendra swallowed hard. Nodded.
Hutch had left his hat in the house for whatever reason, though he was still wearing the same dusty rodeo clothes as before, and he ran a hand through his hair. “You do know where we’re headed?” he persisted.
Again, Kendra swallowed and nodded. She walked over to her horse, the same one she’d ridden that other time, put a foot in the stirrup and almost sprang up into the saddle. She took the reins in hand and waited for Hutch to lead the way.
He sighed, shook his head once and finally flashed a devastating grin at her. “So be it,” he said, and they were off.
Kendra followed. It was as though there were two women sharing her body—one sensible and wary, the other reckless and wild.
At the moment, the latter was winning out.
Neither of them spoke as they crossed the range, though Hutch looked back at her once over his right shoulder, before urging his gelding onto the trail that twisted up the mountainside toward the hidden meadow.
Stop, turn around, go back, Sensible Kendra pleaded.
I want this man, countered Reckless Kendra. I want him and I need him and I don’t care if it’s wrong.
There will be consequences, warned her reasonable side.
She knew that was true, but it didn’t stop her, didn’t even slow her down.
Her mutinous body had taken over, pushing aside her fretful mind with all its dreads and worries.
The meadow was just as she remembered it, shady and secluded and, at the same time, offering a wide view of Parable and the surrounding land.
They dismounted, still without speaking, and Hutch led the horses into a patch of sweetgrass nearby, draping the reins loosely over their necks so they wouldn’t trip over them, leaving them to graze.
Kendra, meanwhile, approached the curious pile of stones.
“What’s this?” she asked when Hutch appeared beside her, their arms touching.
“A way of getting things out of my system, I guess,” he replied.
Kendra frowned, puzzled.
He turned her to face him, resting his hands lightly beneath her elbows. “Those are my regrets,” he explained, inclining his head toward the pile of stones. “Every rock represents something I’d like to change but can’t. I figured stacking them in a pile was better than carrying their counterparts around in my head.”
The statement made an odd kind of sense to Kendra, though at the moment, little else did.
Was she really here, in the secret meadow, alone with Hutch Carmody?
As if in answer, he cupped her chin in his hand, bent his head and kissed her. At first, it was just a light brush of his lips against hers, but then it deepened, grew hot and moist, and Kendra’s arms went around his neck, while his tightened around her torso, holding her close.
For Kendra, that kiss was a fiery balm, not just to her body but to her spirit, as well. She returned it fiercely, letting go of everything but the heady sensations Hutch stirred in her, the wild needs, the treacherous joy, the sweet sorrow of knowing that life is short and precious.
“I guess that’s a yes,” Hutch said with a raspy chuckle when the kiss finally ended.
Kendra laughed, and they kissed again, even more hungrily this time.
They eased downward into the thick carpet of grass without their mouths parting, did battle with their tongues, pushed and tugged at each other’s clothes.
Nearby, the horses grazed peacefully, saddle leather creaking now and then, their bridle fittings jingling as they raised and lowered their heads.
Birds swooped and sang, and tiny creatures scuttled through the grass, and Kendra gave herself up to Hutch, to his hands, his mouth, his husky whispers.
Time slipped away, just as their clothes had. The ground was soft under Kendra’s back and their only covering was the sky.
He kissed her until she was so dizzy that the arch of blue over their heads blurred whenever she opened her eyes.
He ran his lips along the side of her neck, across her collarbone, all the while caressing her breasts, one and then the other, with a gentle, calloused hand.
Kendra gasped with pleasure and arched her back, wanting him now, not later.
But the excruciatingly delicious foreplay went on—he nibbled at her, everywhere, tongued her nipples until they were pebble-hard, and finally suckled.
It felt so good that she cried out, offering a single, insensible, desperate plea.
Now. Every nerve, every cell in her body seemed to scream the word.
There was, however, no hurrying Hutch Carmody, when it came to lovemaking, anyway—he continued to take his time, stroking her with his hands, exploring every curve and hollow with his lips or the tip of his tongue.
Finally, he came to the core of her femininity, and touched the soft, moist curls with the heat of his breath, arousing her to an even higher pitch of need.
She begged.
He parted her, took her full into his mouth and sucked.
Glorious heat pounded through her like a drum beat, and her hips rose from the soft ground, seeking, seeking the warmth and wetness of his mouth. She felt his hands, strong, under her buttocks, holding her up so that he could drink from her like some sacred cup.
Passion and pleasure raged inside her, like a lightning storm, clamoring, climbing, driving her ever upward toward...heaven?
She shattered into blazing pieces, splintering across the sky.
Fireworks, she thought, as her body flexed and flexed again, reveling in wave after wave of satisfaction.
When he’d wrung the last throaty cry of release from her, Hutch lowered her gently to the ground. He knelt astraddle of her, breathing hard, and she was aware of him reaching for something nearby, tearing open a packet, putting on a condom.
Without a word, he poised himself to take her, waited the instant it took for her to nod and slide her hands along the muscular length of his back.
He was inside her in a single, powerful stroke, deep inside her, where all her dreams and secrets lived, and the sweet satisfaction she’d felt only moments before turned to fiery need.
She whispered his name, raised herself to him.
Once they’d attained a rhythm, he increased the pace, then slowed it, now driving into her, now withdrawing almost completely.
His control amazed her, given that she’d lost hers with the first kiss.
Soon, Kendra was flailing in the grasp of an undulating, rippling climax so intense that she thought she might actually die before it ended.
Hutch murmured to her and she saw the muscles tighten along his neck and upper arms as he plunged through the final barrier and let go, giving a low, ragged shout as he spilled himself into her.
Afterward, they lay side by side in the soft grass, still breathing hard, and a soft breeze rippled over them, like a blessing.
The sky and the tree tops, out of focus before, slowly regained their color and shape, but they blurred a little, too, because Kendra’s eyes were full of tears she couldn’t have explained.
Hutch raised himself on one elbow, looked down at her face, brushed the moisture from one of her cheeks with the side of his thumb. But he didn’t ask why she was crying and Kendra was glad, becau
se she couldn’t have explained that the things she was feeling were so big, so ferocious and so wonderful that she wasn’t sure she could bear them.
He kissed her softly, briefly, this time offering solace, not passion.
They were silent for a long time, recovering, drawing themselves back together like the scattered pieces of a pair of jigsaw puzzles.
Kendra was the first to speak. “You brought a condom,” she observed with a little smile.
“Just the one,” Hutch replied. “Damn it.”
She laughed richly, freely, openly. For the first time in a long while, she felt whole.
Her joy was bittersweet, though, because she knew it couldn’t last.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KENDRA’S WELL AND thoroughly loved body thrummed with residual ecstasy as she slowly, carefully put her clothes back on, determined to come away looking as though she’d never taken them off in the first place. Hutch, wearing his jeans again and shrugging into the shirt he’d discarded earlier, grinned at her.
Things like this, she thought, were so much easier for a man.
All men had to do was tuck in their shirt and zip up their jeans and they were good to go, with nobody the wiser. She, on the other hand, probably had grass in her hair, and her French braid was coming undone. And even if she got her clothes and hair right, her eyes surely glowed and her cheeks were flushed, too—both sure signs that she’d just had the best sex of her life.
Fortunately, Madison wouldn’t pick up on the signals. But Opal might.
Hutch walked over to her, undid the braid completely, and ran splayed fingers through her hair, letting it spill down over her shoulders.
“That’s better,” he said, quietly grave. “My God, you’re beautiful.”
Kendra raised her hands, meaning to gather her hair back and replait it, having momentarily forgotten that the rubber band she’d used to secure it was lost somewhere in the grass, but Hutch stilled her, his thumbs moving in small circular caresses against her palms.
“I left the house with a braid,” she told him as her normal state of quiet agitation overtook her again, “and I’m going back with one.”
Hutch chuckled. The way he was touching her made her regret that he’d brought only one condom. With him, once had never been enough; in the old days, they’d often made love for hours at a time, falling asleep in each other’s arms and waking up to make love again. And he’d already made her want him again just by touching her and standing so close.
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