Maisey Yates - Cowboy Ever After

Huge tears welled in Madison’s eyes. “Nobody wants Lucy’s sister?”

At last, Tara looked shamefaced. “She’s a beautiful dog,” she told the little girl gently. “Somebody will adopt her for sure.”

“You, for instance?” Kendra said.

“I guess she could live with Lucy and me for a while,” Tara decided, shifting her expensive hobo bag from her right shoulder to her left.

Madison grabbed Kendra’s hand, squeezed. “We could just look at Emma, couldn’t we?”

“Emma?” Kendra echoed, dancing on ice now, Bambi with all four limbs scrabbling for traction.

“That’s what we’d call Lucy’s sister,” Madison said matter-of-factly, her little face shining more brightly than the sunset gathering in shades of pink and orange at the rims of the mountains to the east. “Emma.”

Emma. It was Madison’s birth mother’s name. Did she know that?

How could she? She’d been only a year old when Emma gave her up.

“Why ‘Emma’?” Kendra asked carefully, hoping to hide her dismayed surprise from the child.

Tara, she instantly noted, had already read her face, though she couldn’t have known the significance of the name, and she looked way beyond apologetic.

“It’s a pretty name,” Madison said. “Don’t you think so, Mommy?”

“It’s lovely,” Kendra conceded. “Now, shouldn’t we pick up our supper and head for home?” She glanced at Tara. “Join us? Nothing fancy—we’re getting takeout—but we’d love to share.”

Tara blinked, clearly uncertain what response she ought to give. “Well—”

“And it would be fun to meet Lucy,” Madison went on. “Is she with you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Tara said, “yes. She’s in the car. We just came from the vet’s office and—”

“You’re both welcome,” Kendra insisted. Firstly because Tara was a dear friend and secondly, because she was enjoying the other woman’s obvious discomfort. “You and Lucy.”

“Well,” Tara murmured, with a weak little smile, “okay.”

Kendra smiled. “Let’s go, then,” she said, jingling the ring of keys she’d just plucked from her purse.

She shut off the inside lights, stepped out onto the sidewalk and locked up behind them. Leaving Kendra’s Volvo in the parking lot out back, they crossed the street to the Butter Biscuit Café. Tara’s flashy red sports car was parked on the street in front of the restaurant, the yellow dandelion-fluff dog, Lucy, pressing her muzzle against the driver’s-side window, steaming up the glass.

Kendra’s heart softened at the very sight of that dog, while Madison rushed over to stand on tiptoe and press the palms of both hands against the window.

“Hello, Lucy!” Madison cried gleefully.

Lucy barked joyously, her brown eyes luminous with impromptu adoration. She tongued the window where Madison’s right palm rested.

Tara laughed. “See?” she said, giving Kendra a light elbow to the ribs. “It’s fate.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Kendra told her friend with an undertone.

“No, you’ll thank me.” Tara beamed, all confidence again. “I’m counting on Emma to win you over.” She whispered that last part.

They practically had to drag Madison away from the car, and the dog, each adult gripping one of her small hands as they approached the entrance to the Butter Biscuit Café.

The place was rocking, as always, with dishes clinking and waitresses rushing back and forth and the jukebox blaring an old Randy Travis song.

All the noise and busyness subsided though, at least for Kendra, when her gaze found and landed unerringly on Hutch Carmody.

He sat alone at the counter, ridiculously handsome in ordinary jeans, a white shirt and black boots. A plate sat in front of him, containing half a cheeseburger, a few French fries and some pickles.

It wouldn’t have been so awkward if he hadn’t noticed Kendra—or at least, if he’d pretended not to notice her—but he turned toward her immediately, as though equipped with Kendra-detecting radar.

A slow smile lifted his mouth at one corner and his greenish-blue eyes sparked with amused interest.

Madison rushed straight toward him, as if they were old friends. “We’re getting a dog!” she piped. “Well, maybe .”

Hutch grinned down at the child, his expression softening a little, full of a kindness Kendra had never seen in him before, not even in their most private and tender moments. The man definitely had a way with kids.

“Is that so?” he asked companionably. “Is this dog purple, like your kangaroo?”

Madison giggled at this question. “No, silly,” she said. “Dogs are never purple!”

Hutch chuckled. “Neither are kangaroos, in my experience. Not that we have a whole lot of them hopping around the great state of Montana.”

“They mostly live in Australia,” Madison told him solemnly. “Rupert is only purple because he’s a toy .”

“I guess that explains it,” Hutch replied, his gaze rising slowly to reconnect with Kendra’s. Electricity arced, potent, between them. “I’m glad to have the purple kangaroo question settled. It’s been troubling me a lot.”

And that wasn’t the only thing he’d been wondering about, Kendra suddenly realized. He wanted to know how she’d managed to produce a child without ever being pregnant.

As if that were any of his business.

“Hello, Hutch,” Kendra said, her voice strangely wooden.

He merely nodded.

Tara spoke up. “How have you been?” she asked him nervously.

Something flickered in Hutch’s eyes; it was obvious that he’d figured out what Tara really wanted to know. “I’ve been just fine, Tara,” he replied evenly and without rancor. “Except, of course, for that whole non-wedding thing.”

Tara blushed.

So did Kendra.

“G-good,” Tara said.

“We’d better place our order,” Kendra added, and immediately felt like a complete fool. A well-spoken person otherwise, she never seemed to know what to say around Hutch. “B-before the café gets any busier, I mean—”

“Plus Lucy’s locked up in the red car outside,” Madison put in.

“Plus that,” Kendra said lamely.

“Lucy?” Hutch asked, raising one eyebrow.

“My dog,” Tara explained.

“Right,” Hutch answered. His gaze remained on Kendra, stirring up all sorts of totally unwanted memories, like the way his hands felt on her bare thighs or the touch of his lips gliding softly over the tops of her breasts. “Nice to see you again,” he added casually.

When he looked at her that way, Kendra always felt as though her clothes were made of cellophane, and that got her hackles up. Not to mention her nipples, which, thankfully, were well hidden under the loose fabric of her T-shirt.

Even though she turned away quickly and began studying the big menu board on the wall behind the cash register, Kendra was still acutely aware of Hutch, of little Madison, who so clearly adored him, and of Tara, who was trying to pick up the dangling conversational thread.

“Rodeo Days are almost upon us,” Tara said brightly. Every Independence Day weekend since the beginning of time, Parable had hosted the county rodeo, fireworks and carnival. People came from miles around to eat barbecued pork and beef in the park, root for their favorite cowboys and barrel-racing cowgirls, and ride the Ferris wheel and the Whirly-Gig. “The cleanup committee is looking for volunteers. Shall I put your name down to help out, Hutch?”

The woman was wasted as a chicken rancher, Kendra thought, pretending to puzzle between the café’s famous corn-bread casserole and deep-fried catfish. Tara should have been selling ice to penguins.