Joslyn smiled at the girl. “Of course,” she replied easily. “Here—let me show you how to support his head....”
As simply, as beautifully, as that, Shea took her place in this newly expanded family—and then there were four.
Kendra was so choked up she nearly fled the room, fearing she’d cry and Joslyn would misunderstand.
“I’ll pay you a visit when you get home,” she told her friend, aware of Callie and Opal entering the room behind her. The walls were starting to close in; she needed fresh air and space to recover her equilibrium.
What was wrong with her, anyway?
“Wait,” Joslyn said when Kendra would have made her exit. “There’s something I want to ask you before you go and it’s important.”
Kendra, mystified and strangely hopeful, approached the bedside. Shea, holding the baby expertly, made room for her in the small, cozy circle, and Slade looked at her with a smile in his eyes.
Up close, Trace was so beautiful that he claimed a piece of Kendra’s heart, right then and there, and she knew she’d never get it back, never even want to get it back.
“Will you be Trace’s godmother?” Joslyn asked softly, reaching out to cover Kendra’s cool and somewhat unsteady hand with her own warm one. Her grasp was firm.
The request was a simple one and yet it touched Kendra to the center of her soul, an unexpected grace. “I’d be proud,” she managed in a ragged voice.
Joslyn squeezed her hand. “Good,” she said, tearing up herself. “That’s good.”
Overcome, Kendra touched Trace’s tiny head, turned and hurried out of Joslyn’s hospital room. The instant she crossed the threshold, the tears came in rivers and she ducked into the women’s restroom to pull herself together.
At one of the sinks, she splashed cold water on her face, not caring that she’d ruined her mascara. She used a moist paper towel to wipe away the dark trails on her cheeks, drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, ready to face the world.
For the most part, anyway.
Downstairs Madison was ensconced at the main desk, coloring importantly and enjoying being the center of attention.
It threw Kendra a little when she realized that Hutch was there, too, chatting amicably with the receptionist. Barely out of her teens, the young woman, whose name tag read Darcy, looked up at him with an expression that resembled wonder, hanging on his every word.
Kendra found herself withdrawing slightly—she might have been able to hide her puffy eyes from Madison, but Hutch was another matter. He noticed right away and she knew he probably wouldn’t ignore the only-too-obvious fact that she’d been crying, very recently and a lot.
He might even deduce that, while she was very happy for Slade and Joslyn, she was feeling oddly hopeless at the moment, and that would make her too vulnerable to all that cowboy charm.
“Maybe I ought to drive you and Madison home in my truck,” he said, straightening and stepping back from the tall reception counter. “I can call one of the ranch hands to bring your car back over to your place.”
Hutch’s attention had fully shifted by then, entirely focused on Kendra, and the receptionist seemed not just miffed but crestfallen, as though the sun had suddenly stopped shining for good.
“Mommy cries when she’s happy,” Madison announced. “She told me so, when we went to buy my bed at the store in Three Trees.”
Hutch’s mouth quirked upward at one side. “Crying and driving don’t mix very well,” he said easily, huskily. “Especially when there’s precious cargo aboard.”
“What’s precipitous car-blow?” Madison asked.
“It’s what you are,” Hutch told the child, though his eyes hadn’t left Kendra’s face.
There was no question of refusing to accept his offer of a ride home; that would make her look like a careless mother, willing to risk her daughter’s safety in order to protect her pride, which, of course, she wasn’t. And never mind that she was perfectly capable of operating a motor vehicle; it wasn’t as if she’d been drinking, for Pete’s sake.
For these reasons, and others not so easy to recognize, she gave in.
She even said, “Thank you.”
Outside Hutch sprinted over to the Volvo to fetch Madison’s car seat from the back, and within a few moments he was installing the gear inside his extended cab truck. His hands moved with a deftness Kendra well remembered as he hoisted Madison into the seat—he, the bachelor rancher and local heartthrob, might have performed the task a million times before.
Madison loved being fussed over by a daddy type—what little girl didn’t?—and if she’d been wearing a dress instead of those little jeans and a T-shirt, she probably would have stood right there in the hospital parking lot and twirled her skirt.
A softness settled over Kendra’s heart as she looked on, but it was soon replaced by a flicker of dread. She could certainly prevent herself from falling in love with Hutch Carmody, but could she prevent Madison from buying into the illusion?
Hutch, despite his wild ways, was decent through and through. He genuinely liked people, particularly children, and he talked to them with a rare, enfolding ease that naturally made them feel special, even entirely unique.
It wasn’t a deception, Kendra concluded sadly, not really. The problem was that, to Hutch, every child was special and every woman. Every dog and horse, too.
She tried to shake off these thoughts as she climbed into the front passenger seat, once Madison was settled, and buckled herself in for the short ride home.
If she didn’t allow herself to care too much for this man, she reasoned fitfully, as Hutch took the wheel and started the truck’s engine, maybe Madison wouldn’t care too much for him, either.
MADISON, AFTER GREETING a wildly joyful Daisy the moment they entered the new house, where there were still boxes all around, accumulated over several days of moving, took Hutch by one hand and practically dragged him from one room to another, showing the place off. Of course the dog followed them, occasionally putting in her two-bits with a happy little bark.
Kendra, emotionally winded from a long and eventful day, remained in the kitchen doing busywork, washing her hands at the sink, debating whether or not she ought to brew some coffee. The stuff could keep her up half the night, but as she remembered only too well, Hutch could drink the strongest java at midnight and still enjoy the sleep of the innocent and the just.
Talk about ironic.
Still Hutch had brought her and Madison safely home from the hospital visit to see the newest member of the Barlow clan—she was going to be Trace’s godmother and the honor humbled her—and she owed the man the courtesy of a cup of coffee if he wanted one.
He’d
