His Last Rodeo. Claire McEwen
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left or right.
His palms were damp. He wasn’t used to talking like this, trying to inspire others. Put him on a bull and he’d inspire. With actions. With stamina. But with words, he was out of his league. “Look, you all probably know I’ve spent the past few years hitting the rodeos. But I also spent a lot of time with corporate sponsors, doing promotion, stuff like that.”
“‘Me and my Wranglers,’” Lila purred. “Yeah, we saw the commercial.”
Heat crept from his collar to his jaw. In the commercial Lila referred to, the camera had been mainly focused on his ass. “I may not have experience owning a bar. But I learned some stuff about business along the way. I’m no expert, but I have a feeling about this place.”
He paused, gratified to see a few nods from the bouncers and Mario. “I’ve thought my plans through and I know I can make this place profitable. I just need good people around me to do it. I need you, if you’ll give it a try with me.”
“What if we like the Saddle the way it is?” Kit leaned forward, her elbows on the table and, oh boy, her neckline had slid down, treating him to an eyeful of what he should not be looking at. When he raised his glance he saw the fierce emotion in her eyes. She wasn’t giving him a hard time for the heck of it. For some reason, she loved this place, ripped vinyl, filthy floor and all.
“There’s history here. I get that. But let’s be honest, most customers don’t appreciate it. The bar is empty most weeknights.”
“It’s a small town. No one’s out drinking,” Kit shot back.
“It’s a growing town, and the High Country is packed. Look, if we can’t bring more customers in, this place will go under. Chris knew it. He told me himself when he sold it to me. And Kit, weren’t you just asking me about raises?”
She looked at him sharply and he knew he’d hit a nerve.
“You can’t have it both ways,” he said. “You can’t keep the Dusty Saddle the way it’s always been and expect a living wage from it. So we’re going to need to make changes.”
“Don’t get all sentimental, Kit.” Loomis finally looked up from his boot. “More money sounds pretty good to me.”
“Amen,” Ernie added, and Tyler saw several other heads nod around the room.
At least he’d gotten one thing right. He didn’t need everyone on board—and clearly Kit wasn’t signing up for the Tyler Ellis fan club anytime soon—but he needed some of the staff with him. He looked at Kit. “Not all change is bad. It might even be fun.”
“Depends on your idea of fun,” Kit murmured, ostensibly to Lila but loud enough for him to hear, too.
“Any questions?” Tyler deliberately looked over Kit’s head.
“You gonna change the name?” Tim, a bartender, glanced around. “The Dusty Saddle doesn’t really fit what you’re describing.”
“I hadn’t thought about it yet.”
“How about the Last Rodeo?” Kit asked, fluttering her eyelashes innocently when he glared at her. “I mean, since you just had yours, right?”
“Ouch,” Mario murmured.
“Isn’t that a little depressing?” Tim nudged Kit with his elbow. “Not sure we’ll get people in the party spirit with that one.”
“I kind of like it,” Lila countered. “It’s mysterious. Like Tyler’s rodeo days are over and so what comes next?”
“Dance floors and big-screen TVs, apparently,” Kit tossed in. “Not very mysterious, really.”
“Let’s not worry about it now.” A weariness crawled up Tyler’s spine, threatening to bring on the headaches he sometimes got from too many falls in the arena. “Plenty of time to come up with a name. For now, you’ll all pull schedules similar to what you’ve been doing. If you want to change that, let me know.”
He pulled his new business cards—hot off the press—out of his pocket. An old saddle in faded sepia. His name and contact information in bold letters. He handed one to everyone, feeling inexplicably like a tool. “Call me with any questions or concerns. The schedule will be posted Tuesday, like always.”
“We post it on Monday,” Kit corrected.
He glanced her way to see if she was messing with him again. Her slight smile was unreadable. “Chris said Tuesdays.”
“Chris hasn’t done it in five years.”
“Oh.” This was news to him. But there were bound to be surprises. “Okay, so who makes the schedule?”
“Kit,” Lila answered. “She does everything around here.”
Tyler looked at Kit but she regarded him calmly, not offering any confirmation.
“Well, Kit, maybe you and I could meet and you could bring me up to speed.”
“I’m not working today,” she said.
“Okay, so when are you working?”
“I’m not sure, since no one made the schedule.” At Tyler’s exasperated look, she opened her hands in a gesture of innocence. “Hey, I didn’t know. I thought, as the new owner, you might want to take it on.”
Tyler looked around, feeling a twinge of desperation. “So no one knows when they’re working this week?”
Ten heads shook no.
“Right. Call me later today and I’ll have your hours. Anyone want to work today?”
Ten pairs of eyes exchanged furtive you-do-it glances. He got it. Once a day off was promised, it was hard to let it go. Especially since they’d all given up their morning for a staff meeting.
He’d never thought his first day on the job would be so rocky. Maybe his ego was a little too big. In the arenas, on the road, he was someone special. People wanted his autograph, a handshake, a piece of his attention. But this meeting reminded him that here in Benson, he was still the same screw-up he’d always been.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Make sure to put this hour on your time card.” The last sentence was lost in the sound of scraping chairs. It was the most enthusiasm he’d seen so far from the employees. And it all centered on getting the hell out of there.
Well, at least today would give him some time here. He could practice making a few drinks. Maybe he should have considered, before he bought a bar, that he had no idea how to bartend.
He walked to the office and stared at the blank wipe-off calendar titled Schedule. How did he figure out who went where? The lines seemed to bend and blur.
“Welcome to the world of bar ownership.” Kit leaned against the door frame, the position accentuating all the curves defined by her tight black dress.
“Your type of welcome sucks, to be honest. If you want to work for me, don’t act like that in a staff meeting again.”
“Or what? You’ll keep up the family tradition and fire me?”
He tried to process her words. “What are you talking about?”
She straightened, her arms crossed, outraged, across her chest. “Oh, didn’t you know? Your dad fired mine. After my father spent his life working on your ranch.”
Tyler knew he should say something, but shock wiped out any response. Kit’s dad had been Tyler’s mentor. Garth had spent countless hours teaching Tyler how to ride bulls. “When did this happen?”
“A few months ago,” Kit bit the words out, and he could see the emotion she was holding back, in her too-bright eyes and the pink flush staining her cheekbones.
“I had no idea. I haven’t spent a lot of time on the ranch since I came home. I’ve rented a house