His Last Rodeo. Claire McEwen
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it. Gonna spend my days fishing and my nights watching the stars. I’ve had a good run here—owned this bar for over twenty years. I’ve enjoyed it, but I don’t want to spend another minute of my life behind the bar.”
“Congratulations,” Kit said. And wanted to mean it. He owed her nothing, so why did she feel betrayed? “Is it a done deal? I mean, are the papers signed and all that?”
“Yup, they are,” Chris said. “About a month ago.”
“A month ago,” she repeated. Her disappointment was edged in nausea.
He must have seen her distress because he leaned forward to take her hand. “Hey, it’ll be fine. Tyler will do a great job.”
“But why didn’t you tell me this was going on?” She wouldn’t cry, even though tears were hot under her eyes.
“I didn’t want some big fuss. I didn’t think you’d be this upset.” He let go of her hand and leaned back, suddenly looking all of his sixtysomething years. “I’m out of here at the end of the week.”
“You mean—” she somehow resisted the urge to whack him upside the head “—you’re only giving us a few days’ notice?”
“I know you.” Chris grinned suddenly, as if delighted with this part of his deception. “You’d want to throw me some big old party where the regulars would get all drunk and weepy on me. And that’s not my style. I’d rather just grab my tackle box and go.”
Kit studied him, making sure he meant it. “Fine. Though you’re missing out. I plan good parties.”
“So I’ve heard. And seen, when my staff stumbled in the next day.”
Disappointment and loss combined, overriding her efforts to hold back her tears. “We’re going to miss you so much.”
Chris brushed the sentiment off, of course. “Hell, he’s Tyler Ellis. Big rodeo champion. I figured you’d all be over the moon to work for a guy like that.”
“I guess I’d been hoping to buy the bar myself, if you retired,” she admitted.
He looked at her sharply. “You never said.”
“You never said you were planning on retiring anytime soon.” There it was, that note of accusation she’d planned to avoid.
“I guess I assumed you wouldn’t be interested. Because...” Chris stopped, so she finished for him.
“Because I wouldn’t have the money?”
“Well, I know you’ve been taking care of your daddy lately. It’s a big responsibility.”
“I’ve been saving. And maybe the bank would have helped me.”
“Maybe,” Chris said, but she could hear the doubt. She must seem like an idiot. Like she’d been hoping for a handout.
Her voice came out small. “Can I ask what it sold for? Just so I know if I was even close?”
His gaze went to the table. “Almost a million dollars.”
Her gasp burst out before she could bite it back. That much money stole her breath.
He leaned forward, meeting her shock with concern. “You might not realize it, but this bar is on a huge piece of property. I inherited it all, but I only use this building. There’s a bunch of barns, outbuildings, all kinds of acreage for ranching. And Tyler wanted it all.”
“What’s he going to do? Tear the bar down and stick cows on the land?”
“Nah. I think he wants to expand. Maybe even add a restaurant. He’s got some big dreams.”
A million dollars. Kit might laugh if it didn’t sting so badly. She may as well have been saving pennies in a piggy bank.
“Wait until you talk to him,” Chris went on. “I’m sure he’ll call a meeting with the staff soon and fill you in on his plans. It’s gonna be exciting to see what he does. You might find that me heading out to pasture is a good thing for everyone.”
“Maybe.” He was trying to make her feel better so Kit found a smile, but it felt like a grimace. “But I doubt it. We’ll miss you.”
“Likewise. It’s been a pleasure working with you. You’ve been a bit like the daughter I never had.”
“Well, don’t be a stranger then.” Her voice was husky. “Take me fishing with you or something.”
There was a suspicious shimmer in Chris’s eyes. “I’d like that.”
“And when will the rodeo star take over?”
Chris chuckled. “Don’t give him too much of a hard time. I know you’ve got a disdain for cowboys, but Tyler is a champion for a reason. He worked his butt off to get where he did. You might find he’s made of better stuff than you imagine.”
His words wormed guilt into her conscience. She’d been cursing Tyler three ways to hell since yesterday. Letting her jealousy and her disappointment make him the villain. He may have been drunk and obnoxious last night, but he’d been her friend when they were kids. He’d stuck by her, stuck up for her, and she’d kicked him out of her life the moment Arch Hoffman tilted a badass eyebrow her way.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I might find that out. Or I might already be fired for throwing him out of his own bar.”
“He shouldn’t have come in here drunk like that.” His eye crinkled into a Santa Claus wink. “Though I wouldn’t have minded seeing you send him out the door. I’ll say something to him. Make sure he knows who’s really been running this place for the past few years.”
“Thanks, Chris.” His praise didn’t warm her the way he meant it to. She’d been running the bar, but now she’d just be one more employee of Tyler Ellis. Just like her dad had been one more employee of Ken Ellis. And look where that had landed him. Broke. Cast off like some old ranch horse. Except the Ellis horses were given nice pastures and good food.
“Now you go enjoy your day off,” Chris said, shoving up from his chair. “I’ve got to open this place up. Strange to think it’s one of the last times I’ll ever do it.”
“Yeah, strange,” Kit echoed as she stood on numb limbs. Everything had felt surreal since Tyler showed up last night.
Maybe owning the Dusty Saddle had been a pipe dream, but it had also been her lifeline. The thing that made her feel like she could survive staying in this town. And now Chris had hauled up that line and tossed it to someone else.
She gave Chris a vague wave and left, furious at the traitor tears that kept pooling in her eyes. She had to pull herself together. Her next stop was her dad’s house, and she didn’t want him suspecting anything was wrong. She was his lifeline, and no matter how many things were going wrong in her life, she had to show up as strong as ever for him.
* * *
TYLER CHASED HIS third aspirin down with his second glass of water and tried to focus his eyes. His father’s kitchen looked exactly the same as it had for the past two decades. Clean, quiet and barren of decor. Sometime after Tyler’s mom died, his dad had removed all of her homey touches and never replaced them. The only changes were the new cracks in the faded green linoleum and the increasingly battered edges of the white cabinets.
His father and brothers had long since eaten and headed out for chores. He could almost feel his dad’s disapproval in the ticking of the clock, in the tidiness, in the plate of eggs and bacon left for him. There was no way he could keep that down.
How the hell had he ended up drinking so much?
It had started simply enough. He’d met a couple friends at the sports bar. They’d shot some pool, knocked back a few beers, caught up. Then he’d told them about his business plans. How the papers were signed, the money paid. How he was going to turn the Dusty Saddle