Big Sky Mountain

chapter TEN



WE NEED TO TALK. When can we get together?

To say Kendra’s words had caught Hutch off guard would be the understatement of the century, but he hoped his tone sounded casual when he replied, “Okay, sure. I’m just leaving Boone’s place—I’ve got some chores to do at home, and I could really use a shower.”

TMI, he thought ruefully. Too much information. The woman hadn’t asked for a personal hygiene report, after all.

Because he disapproved of other people talking on their cell phones while they drove, Hutch pulled over to one side of Boone’s weed-shorn yard and let the men he’d brought over from Whisper Creek pass on by him in their trucks, and Opal, too.

Probably thinking there might be trouble, Opal stopped her big station wagon and started to roll down her window to ask if everything was all right, but Hutch grinned and waved her on.

Kendra sounded a little flustered when she answered, as though she might be wishing not only that she hadn’t phrased the invite the way she had, but that she’d never called him at all. “Tonight, tomorrow—whenever,” she stumbled.

Hutch felt better, aching muscles and ravenous hunger notwithstanding. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one feeling a little out of their depth at the moment and he had to admit, the “we need to talk” part intrigued him in a big way.

“So this is nothing urgent,” he concluded with a smile in his voice. He didn’t need to see Kendra to know she was blushing to the roots of her pale gold hair; practically every emotion showed plainly on the landscape of her face and usually her inner climate did, too.

Kendra Shepherd might look like a Nordic ice queen, but Hutch knew she was capable of tropical heat.

Meanwhile, Kendra struggled bravely on, determined to make her point, whatever the heck that was. “No—I mean—well, I suppose we could discuss it now—”

“That’s fine, too,” Hutch said amiably, relishing the exchange.

“Yes, Madison,” she said to her daughter, who could be heard asking questions in the background, “you do have to wash your hands before supper. You’ve been petting the dog, for Pete’s sake.”

Hutch chuckled at that. “I’ll stop by later tonight,” he offered. “What time does Madison go to bed?”

“Eight,” Kendra said weakly.

“Then I’ll be there around eight-thirty.”

There was a pause, during which Hutch half expected Kendra to change her mind, tell him there was no need to come over in person because she could just say what she had to say right there on the phone.

Except that, for whatever reason, Kendra didn’t seem to want Madison to be privy to what was said.

“Eight-thirty,” Kendra confirmed, sighing the words.

Hutch agreed on the time, set his phone aside and hurried home, where he fed the horses, took a shower, wolfed down cold chicken and potato salad, leftovers from the meal Opal had served over at Boone’s earlier in the day, and checked the clock about every five minutes.

It wasn’t even six yet.

He’d done everything that needed doing at warp-speed, it seemed. What the hell was he supposed to do with the two and a half hours still to go before he could show up on Kendra’s doorstep?

“You’ve sure got a burr under your hide about something,” Opal commented, putting away the remains of the feast. She’d left some of the overflow with Boone and given shares to the ranch hands who’d helped out with the work, too. Nobody turned down Opal’s potato salad, ever. “Jumpy as a cat on a griddle, that’s what you are.”

Good-naturedly, Hutch elbowed her aside and took over the job she’d been doing, shoving chicken and potato salad every which way into the fridge. “Why don’t you take the night off?” he asked companionably, when he thought enough time had elapsed so the question wouldn’t sound contrived.

“Given that I don’t work for you in the first place,” Opal informed him, “that’s an interesting suggestion. What are you up to, Hutch Carmody? You planning on heading back to the Boot Scoot Tavern again tonight, looking to drum up some more trouble?”

He laughed. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to the Boot Scoot, and never mind that, it’s none of your business if I do.”

Opal’s eyes were sly, even suspicious. “There’s Bingo tonight,” she said. “I never miss a game, especially when I’m on a lucky streak. Since I’m headed into town anyway, I could drop you someplace, pick you up later on.”

“I do my own driving these days,” he reminded her dryly. “Have been since the day I got my license.”

“Fine,” Opal said with a sniff, untying her apron and heading for her part of the house, presumably to get dolled up for a big night wielding Bingo daubers in the basement of the Elks’ Club. “Don’t tell me what’s going on. It isn’t as if I won’t find out sooner or later. All I’ve got to do is keep my ear to the ground and sure enough, somebody will mention seeing you tonight, and they’ll have the details, too.”

Hutch laughed again, shook his head. He’d have sworn he’d never miss being nagged by a woman, but he surely had. Having Opal around was like having a mom again—a good feeling, even if it was a bit on the constricting side. “I’m going to see Kendra,” he admitted. “And don’t ask me why, because the whole thing was her idea and I don’t have the first clue what she wants.”

Opal’s eyes were suddenly alight with mischievous supposition. “Well, now,” she said. “Kendra wants to see you. As for what she wants, anybody but a big dumb cowboy like you would know that from the get-go.” She paused to reflect for a few moments, and at the tail end of the thought process, she was looking a little less delighted than before. “You get on the wrong side of her again? Is that it?”

“I’m always on the wrong side of Kendra,” Hutch said lightly. But the view is good from any direction.

Opal shuffled past him, yanked open the refrigerator, and neatly rearranged everything he’d just shoved in there. “Make sure you pick up some flowers on your way over,” she instructed, dusting her hands together as she turned to face him again. “That way if you are in the doghouse, which wouldn’t surprise me, Kendra might forgive you quicker.”

“Forgive me?” Hutch echoed, pretending to be offended. “I haven’t done anything she needs to forgive me for.”

“Maybe not recently,” Opal conceded, with another sniff and a glance that begrudged him all grace. “But you did enough damage to last a lifetime back in the day. Get the flowers. There were some nice Gerbera daisies at the supermarket when I was there yesterday.”

Hutch executed a deep bow of acquiescence.

Opal gave a scoffing laugh, waved a hand at him and went off to get ready for a wild night of Bingo.

* * *

KENDRA PEERED INTO the yellow glow of the porch light and caught her breath.

She’d been expecting Hutch, of course, but for some reason, every encounter with the man, planned as well as unplanned, made her feel as though she’d just taken hold of the wrong end of a cattle prod.

He wore newish jeans, a crisply pressed and possibly even starched cotton shirt in a pale shade of yellow, polished boots and a good hat instead of the usual one that looked as though it had just been trampled in a stampede or retrieved from the bed of a pickup truck.

And he was holding a colorful bouquet of flowers in his left hand.

He must have misunderstood her phone call, she thought, with a sort of delicious desperation. Her heart hammered against her breastbone, and her breathing was so shallow that she was afraid she might hyperventilate if she didn’t get a grip.

After drawing a very deep breath, Kendra opened the front door; he’d seen her through the frosted oval window, so it was too late to pretend she wasn’t home.

He took off the hat with a deftness that reminded her instantly of other subtle moves he’d made, under much more intimate circumstances, way back in those thrilling days—and nights—of yesteryear.

“The flowers were Opal’s idea,” he said first thing.

Kendra’s mouth twitched with amusement. Hutch was doing a good job of hiding the fact, but he was as nervous as she was, maybe even more so.

“No wine?” she quipped. “You’re slipping, cowboy.”

He let his gaze range over her, just briefly, as she stepped back so he could come inside. “I figured that would be pushing my luck,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was kidding or serious.

Kendra led the way through the house to the kitchen and offered him a seat at the table. She’d long since cleared away all evidence of supper, supervised Madison’s bath, read her a story and heard her prayers, and she’d checked on the child a couple of times over the past half hour, as well.

Both Madison and Daisy had been sound asleep each time she looked in.

Kendra accepted the flowers, found a vase and arranged them quickly. The colors, reds and maroons, oranges and deep pinks and purples, thrilled her senses, a riot of beauty.

When she turned around with the bouquet in hand, she nearly collided with Hutch.

Color climbed her cheeks and she stepped around him to set the flowers in the middle of the kitchen table.

“There’s coffee, if you’d like some,” she told him, feeling as shy as if he were a stranger and not a man who’d made love to her in all sorts of scandalous places and positions.

Stop it, she scolded herself.

Hutch’s eyes twinkled as he watched her—he was seeing too much. Although he could be infuriatingly obtuse, he had a perceptive side, too. One that generally worked to his advantage. “Thanks,” he said, “but I’ve had plenty of java already. One more cup and I’ll be up all night putting a new roof on the barn or something.”

Kendra smiled at the image, calming down a little on the inside. “I’ll just look in on Madison once more,” she said, and beat a hasty retreat for the hallway. What was it about Hutch that made all her nerves rise to the surface of her skin and sizzle there, like some kind of invisible fire?

He said nothing as she hurried away, but she would have sworn she felt the heat of his gaze wherever her shorts and tank top left her skin bare—on the backs of her arms and calves, on her nape.

Madison, she soon discovered, was still asleep in her “princess bed,” or doing a darned good job of playing possum. Daisy, curled up by Madison’s feet, raised her downy golden head, yawned and descended back into the realm of doggy dreams.

Since there was no excuse for lingering—and she’d been the one to suggest this rendezvous in the first place—Kendra forced herself to go back to the kitchen and face Hutch.

He was still standing in the center of the room, hat in hand, and he pulled back a chair at the table for her as adeptly as if they’d been in some fancy restaurant instead of her own modest kitchen.

She sat, interlaced her fingers on the table top and silently wondered why she’d gotten herself into a situation like this—it wasn’t like her. The pop-psychology types would probably say she had an unconscious agenda—sex, for instance.

Definitely not true.

Sex was out of the question with Madison in the house.

Thanks to this particular cowboy, though, the small kitchen seemed charged with the stuff, even electrified.

While Kendra’s brain was trying to make sense of her own actions, Hutch hung his hat from a peg beside the back door and came to sit down across from her. He watched her in silence for a few moments, his expression solemn, and finally uttered a mildly plaintive, “What?”

Kendra, all fired up over his promise to take Madison for a horseback ride earlier, felt silly now. Why hadn’t she simply said what she wanted to say while they were on the phone before?

Because she’d wanted to see Hutch, that was why. Ever since she’d watched him on Tara’s porch, through those binoculars, he’d been on her mind. She was trying to prevent Madison from being disappointed over a much wanted horseback ride that didn’t ever quite happen—any mother would feel the same—but in retrospect, the requested meeting looked...well...transparent.

God, this was embarrassing.

“This is really no big deal,” she began awkwardly. “It’s just—”

And then she couldn’t force out another word. Her face burned and she wanted to look away from Hutch’s face, but pride wouldn’t let her take the easy way out.

“I’m listening,” he reminded her quietly.

“Madison is really counting on a horseback ride,” Kendra blurted, still awkward.

He raised one eyebrow in silent question. “And?” his expression prompted.

“I’m getting this all wrong,” Kendra fretted. “It seemed like such a good idea before, to get everything out in the open and all that, but now—”

Hutch looked genuinely puzzled, maybe even flummoxed. If Kendra hadn’t felt like such an idiot the look on his face would have made her laugh.

“But now?” he urged, his voice low and baffled. “You’ve decided against letting Madison go for a horseback ride?”

Suddenly, she giggled. It was some kind of nervous reaction, of course, but the release of tension was welcome, even though it did feel a lot like the spring of an old-fashioned watch breaking and spinning itself unwound. “No, that isn’t it,” she managed, after a moment of recovery. “I just got to thinking that you might forget what you told Madison, about going riding, I mean, and she’s—”

“She’s counting on it,” Hutch confirmed, looking only slightly less confused than before. “Kendra, what the hell are you talking about?”

This time the giggle came out as a half-hysterical little laugh. She put a hand over her mouth and rocked, hoping the mysteries of incontinence would not be revealed to her. Especially in front of Hutch Carmody.

Before she could frame an answer, though, Hutch’s eyes darkened with realization, reminding her of a sky working up a booming spate of thunder that might last for a while instead of blowing over quickly.

“You just automatically assumed I’d let her down, is that it?” he demanded, leaning in a little. His eyes flashed with indignation.

Kendra straightened her spine. Lifted her chin a notch or two. “Not exactly,” she hedged. “Not exactly”? mocked a voice in the back of her mind. Come on. He’d just verbalized her precise thoughts on the matter. She’d been afraid he’d hurt and disappoint her little girl, and decided not to let it happen—that was the size of it.

“If you’ll remember,” Hutch went on, filling her in in case she hadn’t noticed the figurative skywriting arching across the firmament overhead, “I told Madison she could ride one of my horses if it was all right with you. You’re the one who didn’t want to commit to a straight-out ‘yes’ and just barely settled for ‘maybe.’ And now it’s my fault for letting her down?”

Kendra swallowed miserably. Looked away.

“Kendra,” Hutch insisted. Just that one word, just her name, was all he said, but it carried weight.

“All right,” she whispered, meeting his gaze again. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. Can we just get past that, please?”

His mouth smiled, but his eyes were solemn, even sad. “I meant what I said before,” he finally replied. “If you’re agreeable, we’ll put Madison on the gentlest horse I own and she’ll have her ride. Or she can ride with me, whatever you think best.”

Kendra’s throat tightened and she had to look away once more before reconnecting. Those eyes of his seemed to see into the deepest part of her, seeking and finding every secret she’d hidden away over the years, even from herself.

“When?” she asked, still mortified by her own behavior but trying to put a good face on things. “Madison will expect specifics.”

He smiled again, this time with his whole face. “Whenever you say,” he answered.

Kendra sighed. The ball was in her court and he wasn’t going to let her forget that. “Tomorrow?” she threw out tentatively. “After she gets out of preschool?”

“That’ll work,” Hutch said, watching her. “About what time should I expect you and the munchkin to show up on Whisper Creek?”

“Three-thirty? Is that too early? I know you probably have a lot of work to do and I wouldn’t want to impose or anything.”

Lame. Of course she was imposing—but she was in too deep and there was no other way out.

“Three-thirty,” Hutch agreed. Then, unexpectedly, he reached across the table and closed his fingers gently around her hand. “One question, Kendra. Why was it so hard for you to get all this said? We have a history, you and I, and not all of it was bad—not by a long shot.”

“I’m—not sure,” Kendra admitted softly.

“That’s an honest if inadequate answer,” he said, but his grin, if slight, was genuine. He got up, walked over to retrieve his hat, held it in one hand as he looked back at Kendra. “Tomorrow, three-thirty, Whisper Creek Ranch?”

“If it’s inconvenient for you, another time would be fine, honestly—”

Hutch narrowed his eyes, not in anger, but bewilderment, as though by squinting he might make out some aspect of her nature he hadn’t spotted before. “Women,” he said with a note of consternation in his voice.

Kendra got to her feet, led the way back through the house toward the front door. “Men,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes.

She’d never planned for it to happen, and maybe Hutch hadn’t either, but once they’d stepped beyond the cone of light thrown by the porch fixture, into the soft, summery shadows, they found themselves standing close to each other—too close.

Hutch curved a hand under Kendra’s chin, lifted her face and kissed her, as naturally as they would have done in the old days.

And Kendra kissed him back, her body coming awake as both new and very familiar sensations took hold, expanding and contracting, soaring and then plummeting.

Kendra gave a silent gasp. It was still there, then, all of it, the passion, the need, the wildness, the things she’d tried so hard to forget over the years since their breakup.

She knew she ought to change directions, put on the brakes before they collided in the train wreck of the century—but she just couldn’t.

She was lost in that kiss, lost in the way it felt to have Hutch’s arms around her again, strong and sure, holding her close.

Her knees went weak, and she knotted her fists in the fabric of his shirt and held on, and still the kiss continued, seemingly taking on a life of its own, now playful, now deep and commanding.

“Mommy?”

The word, coming from just beyond the screened door, sliced down between them like a knife.

Both of them stepped back.

“You didn’t tell me the cowboy man was here,” Madison said innocently, rubbing away sleep with one hand even as she pressed her little nose against the worn screen, looking curious but nothing more. Her sidekick, Daisy, did the same.

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Hutch said chivalrously. “Your mom and I were deciding on when you ought to take that horseback ride we talked about.”

Madison’s eyes instantly widened, and she stepped back far enough to open the screen door so she and Daisy could bolt through the gap.

“Really?” the child cried. “When? Where?”

Hutch lifted her easily, naturally into his arms, grinned. “Really,” he said. “Tomorrow afternoon, at my ranch.”

“I told you she’d ask for specifics,” Kendra managed to say. Her face was still flaming, her heart was pounding, and she was frantic to know how much Madison had seen, and understood, before interrupting that foolish, wonderful kiss.

Madison literally squealed with delight. “Yes!” she cried, punching the air with one small, triumphant fist.

Hutch chuckled and set her back on her bare feet, tousled her tumbling copper curls lightly, though by then his gaze was fixed on Kendra again. She couldn’t read his expression very well, since he was standing on the fringes of the glow from the porch light, but she saw the white flash of his teeth as he smiled.

“I guess that’s settled, then,” he said. He set his hat on his head, tugged at the brim in farewell and added, “Good night, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And he turned to go.

“Wait!” Madison blurted, and Kendra was relieved to realize she hadn’t been the one to speak, because that exact same word had swelled in the back of her throat and very nearly tumbled out over her tongue.

Wait.

Wait for what? A second chance? A miracle? Some passage opening between now and the time when everything had been good and right between them?

You’re losing it, Kendra thought to herself.

Hutch paused at the top of the steps, turned to look back over one shoulder and waited quietly for the little girl to go on.

Kendra had forgotten that quietness in him. Hutch was still a rowdy cowboy inclined toward the rough-and-tumble and that probably hadn’t changed, but he carried a vast silence inside him, too, as though he were somehow anchored to the core of the universe and drew confidence from that.

“Can Daisy come, too?” Madison asked earnestly.

“It’s all right with me if it’s all right with your mother,” Hutch replied almost gruffly.

Kendra didn’t dare say anything, so she nodded. She wanted Hutch to stay, though. She wanted more of his kisses, and still more, and she ached to return to the sweet, secret places where she knew they would take her.

But it wasn’t going to happen, she told herself. Not tonight, anyway.

Hutch went his way—down the walk, through the gate, around to the driver’s door of his truck; and she went to hers—back into the house, with Madison and Daisy.

* * *

HEADED HOME TO the ranch through a pale purple summer night, Hutch felt exuberant and scared shitless, both at the same time. The aftereffects of the kiss he and Kendra had shared on her porch still reverberated through his system like bullets ricocheting around inside a cement mixer and every instinct urged him to get far away from the woman, fast.

Except that there was nowhere to go.

He rolled down the window, switched on the radio and sang along with a country-western drinking song at the top of his lungs for the first mile or so, and by the time he was about to round the last bend, some of the adrenaline had ebbed and there was at least a remote possibility that he could think straight.

He wasn’t speeding—the ticket Boone had given him was still fresh in his mind—but he nearly hit the critter sitting in the middle of the road anyhow.

He swerved, screeched to a stop, shut off the engine but not the headlights, and shoved open the door. Sprinting around the back of the truck, he was surprised—and relieved—to see that the animal, either a black dog or a very skinny bear, was still in one piece. The creature hadn’t moved from the middle of the road, and as he approached, it whimpered low in its throat and cowered a little.

“You hurt?” Hutch asked, mindful that another rig could come around the bend at any moment and send both him and what turned out to be a dog headlong into the Promised Land. Swiftly, he crouched, ran experienced rancher’s hands over the creature’s matted back and all four legs. He stood up again. “Come on, then,” he said, satisfied that nothing was broken. “Let’s see if you can walk.”

Hutch started slowly back toward the truck.

The dog got up and limped after him.

Carefully, he hoisted the stray into the passenger’s seat of his truck.

“You oughtn’t to sit in the road like that,” he said, once he was behind the wheel again and turning the key in the ignition. “It’s a good way to get killed.”

Here he was, talking to a dog.

A strange thing to do, maybe, but it felt good.

The dog turned to look at him with weary, limpid eyes and shivered a little.

Hutch debated turning around, taking the stray back to town, to the veterinary clinic, or at least to Martie Wren’s place, so she could take a look at it, maybe check for one of those microchips that served as canine GPS. He’d been around horses and dogs and cattle all his life, though, and he knew instinctively that this one was sound, underneath all that dirt and deprivation.

Pulling in at the top of his driveway, Hutch was relieved to see Opal’s station wagon parked up ahead. Evidently Bingo was over for the night, because she probably wouldn’t have left the Elks’ basement before the last number was called.

He parked, lifted the dog out of the truck and set him on his four thin, shaky legs. “You’re going to be all right, fella,” he told the animal gruffly. “You’ve got my word on that.”

They went inside.

Opal was at the table, drinking tea and reading from her Bible.

“Land sakes,” she said, at the sight of the dog, “what is that?”

Hutch gave her a wry look. “Just a wayfarer fallen on hard times,” he said.

Opal closed her Bible, stood up, removing her glasses, polishing them with the hem of her apron, and putting them back on again, so she could examine the dog more closely. “Poor critter,” she said. “Let’s have us a good look at you.”

Next she moved her teacup and Bible and draped a large plastic bag over the table.

“Heft him on up here,” she said.

Hutch complied.

The dog stood uncertainly in the middle of the table, convinced, no doubt, that he was breaking some obscure human law and would be punished for it. He took to shivering again.

“Nobody’s going to hurt you now,” Opal told him, with gentle good humor, as she began to examine and prod. “Just look at that rib cage,” she remarked, finally stepping back. “When’s the last time you had anything to eat, dog?”

Hutch put the critter back on the floor, went to the cupboard for a bowl, filled it with water at the sink, and set it down in front of the newcomer.

The animal drank every drop and looked up at Hutch, asking for more as surely as if he’d spoken aloud.

Hutch refilled the bowl.

Opal, meanwhile, washed her hands and proceeded to ferret around in the fridge, finally emerging with two pieces of chicken and a carton of cottage cheese.

Deftly, like she cared for starving strays every day of her life, she peeled the meat off the bones and broke the chicken into smaller chunks. She mixed in some of the cottage cheese and set the works down on the floor on a plate.

The dog, lapping up water until then, fell on that food like he was afraid it would vanish before his eyes. He made short work of the meal, and Hutch would have given him another helping, but Opal nixed the idea.

“His poor stomach has all it can do to deal with what’s already in there,” she said.

After that, Hutch bathed the dog in the laundry room sink, helped himself to a couple of towels fresh from the dryer and rubbed that bony mutt down until his hide gleamed and his fur stuck out in every direction.

When he and the dog got back to the kitchen, Opal had cleared the table and resumed her Bible reading and her tea drinking. She tapped at the Good Book with one index finger and said, “Leviticus. That’s the perfect name for our friend here.”

“How so?” Hutch asked, washing up at the kitchen sink. The whole front of his good shirt was muddy and wet from giving the dog a bath, but he didn’t care.

“Because that’s what I was reading when you brought him in.”

Hutch smiled to himself. He remembered when he was a kid and his mom would read through the whole Bible every year, a day at a time. She always said if a person could get through the book of Leviticus, they could get through anything.

“I take it Bingo was a bust?” he ventured, watching as Leviticus ambled over to the pile of old blankets Opal must have put out for him, settled himself, gave a sigh and closed his eyes.

“I won the blackout,” Opal informed Hutch proudly with a smile and a shake of her head. “Five hundred dollars. So I’m pretty flush.”

Hutch looked at the now sleeping dog and felt a space open wide in his heart to accommodate him. “Speaking of money,” he said, “I owe you some for all you’ve done around here, and over at Boone’s place today, too.”

Opal executed another dismissive wave of one hand. “I don’t want your money, Hutch,” she said. “And didn’t I just now tell you I’ve got five hundred beautiful dollars in my wallet at this very moment?”

He chuckled, shook his head. “You,” he said, “are one hardheaded woman.”

“All the more reason not to argue with me,” Opal replied. She arched both eyebrows and Hutch saw the question coming before the words left her mouth. “How did things go over at Kendra’s?”

Hutch folded his arms, leaned back against the counter alongside the sink. “Well enough that she and Madison will be coming out here tomorrow afternoon for a horseback ride,” he said. It was more than he would have told most people, but he owed Opal, and besides, talking to her was easy.

Opal beamed. “They’ll stay for supper,” she announced. “I’ll make my famous tamale pie. Kendra always loved it and so will that sweet little girl of hers.”

Hutch spread his hands. “You’d better be the one to offer the invitation,” he said, remembering the kiss. By now the regret would be setting in, Kendra would be wishing she’d slapped him instead of kissing him right back. “If it comes from me, she’s more likely to say no than yes.”

“Now why do you suppose that is?” Opal pretended to ponder, but her gaze found the dog again and she smiled. “You mean to keep Leviticus, don’t you?” she asked.

“Unless somebody’s looking for him,” Hutch replied. “I’ll check with Martie tomorrow.”

“Nobody’s looking for Leviticus,” Opal said with sad certainty. “He’d have a collar and tags if he belonged to someone.”

Hutch felt a peculiar mixture of sympathy and possessiveness where Leviticus was concerned. The dog was bound to be nothing but trouble—he’d chew things up and he probably wasn’t housebroken—but Hutch wanted to keep him, wanted that more than anything except to find some common ground with Kendra, so they wouldn’t be so jumpy around each other.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough to suit him.