what—while we’re looking for those boots of yours, we’ll keep an eye out for something they’d like.”
Madison cheered at that, and Daisy started barking all over again, sharing in the headiness of the moment.
Tara came out of the main chicken coop when they drove up, wearing work clothes and scattering indignant hens in all directions as she came toward the car.
“You’re not going to the rodeo like that, are you?” Madison asked with great concern as soon as they’d come to a stop and Tara had opened the back door of the car to help her out of the seat. “You have chicken poop on your shoes.”
Tara laughed and shook her head, but before she could reply, Lucy came bounding down the front steps from the shady porch, barking gleefully. This, of course, got Daisy all worked up again and the canine chorus began.
“I’m not much for rodeos,” Tara explained when the din subsided a little and Madison was out of the car seat. “But I’ll be in town later for the fireworks.” A pause. “Without the poopy shoes, of course.”
By then, Daisy and Lucy were playing a merry game of chase, and Madison ran right along with them, transcendence in motion, the sunlight catching in her coppery curls.
Watching, Kendra felt literally swamped with love and gratitude. She was so blessed, she thought. She had everything a woman could want.
Then the memory of Hutch’s kiss sneaked up on her, as it had a way of doing, and heat swept through her in a fiery flood.
Okay, she clarified to herself. She had almost everything.
Tara, meanwhile, took in Kendra’s French braid, small gold earrings and carefully applied makeup, and looked fondly sly. “Don’t you look nice today?” she drawled. Then, in a lower voice, though Madison couldn’t possibly have heard her over all that racket she and the dogs were making, “Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were looking for a little Hutch-action.”
“Oh, please,” Kendra said, averting her eyes for a moment.
Hutch-action, she thought. Oh, Lord.
Tara merely folded her arms and raised her perfect eyebrows. She might have been wearing dirty coveralls and manure-caked shoes, but she still managed to look like the class act she was, right down to the double helix of her DNA.
“Madison will be with us the whole time,” Kendra pointed out when her friend didn’t say anything more, probably because she didn’t have to, having made her point. “What could happen?”
“Nothing,” Tara admitted, pleased. “But that doesn’t mean all that time together isn’t going to crank up the dials. I don’t know why you and Hutch don’t just—” she leaned in now, and dropped her voice to a whisper “—do it. It’s going to happen, you know. It’s inevitable, fated, meant to be.”
“No,” Kendra argued too fiercely, “it isn’t going to happen, because I won’t let it!” Deep down, though, she wasn’t so sure, because some part of her had been hankering to head for the meadow ever since Hutch had reminded her of the things they’d done there, back in the day. “This is just an outing, nothing more.” She counted off the events on her fingers. “Rodeo. Carnival. Fireworks. Over.”
“Right,” Tara said. She wasn’t actually smirking, but she was close to it.
That was when Kendra blurted it out, the thing she hadn’t meant to say at all, to anyone. Ever. “What are we going to talk about for a whole day?”
Tara’s smile turned gentle and she touched Kendra’s arm. “You and Hutch don’t need a script, honey,” she said. “Just let things happen. Roll with it, so to speak.”
“Easy for you to say,” Kendra pointed out. “You’ll be here, shoveling chicken poop all day!”
“Some people have all the luck,” Tara confirmed wryly as Madison left the dogs and came toward them. Daisy and Lucy were settling down in the shade of a nearby tree for an impromptu nap.
“Let’s go, Mommy,” Madison said eagerly, clasping Kendra’s hand. “It’s almost time for Mr. Carmody to come and get us, isn’t it?”
“We have a little while yet, sweetheart,” Kendra assured her child after a glance at her watch.
“Come inside and have some lemonade, then,” Tara said. “I just made it fresh this morning, before I went out to do the chores.”
Madison looked doubtful. Like most children and all too many grown-ups, she probably thought she could make the minutes pass faster just by force of will, and she was a nervous wreck from the effort.
“I also have cookies,” Tara bargained with an understanding smile.
“What kind?”