He nodded. “Great bar.”
“Sure, if you like cocktails and big-screen TVs.”
“And you don’t?”
“I prefer the basics. Good beer. Good customers.” She couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What are you doing in town, so messed up on a Monday night, anyway?”
“A few of my buddies threw me a party. A celebration.”
“What are you celebrating?”
He hesitated a fraction. “Moving home.”
She’d been expecting him to say another rodeo win or another endorsement deal. Certainly not this. “You’re moving to Benson? No more rodeo?”
His head moved in one emphatic shake. “Nope.”
He’d lived and breathed bull riding since he was a kid. “Tyler, that’s a big deal. How come you quit?”
“A lot of reasons.” He took a sip of water then swirled the glass, watching as if it was actually interesting.
“Suddenly you don’t want to talk, when we’re talking about you.”
He shrugged. “Not much to say. I had a great run. I won some titles and made a bunch of money. And I was lucky that I did all that and didn’t get hurt much. But I saw a lot of friends get pretty torn up. Figured I’d quit while I was still in one piece.”
“But you’ll miss it.” It was a guess, but she saw the way his eyes widened a little.
Then he hiccuped and blinked a few extra times. “Excuse me. It’s possible that I may have celebrated a little too much.”
“Yeah. Which is why I’m suggesting, again, that you get home to sober up.”
“Don’t really want to do that.” His arms folded across his chest in a three-year-old’s version of stubborn.
“Fine. Have it your way.” She grabbed a clean cloth to start polishing glasses.
Tyler was quiet for a few moments. Unfortunately, his attempt at restraint was no match for the alcohol in his system. “You know those self-help books you’re reading are a con, right?”
She glared at him. “They’re just books. Maybe I’ll learn something, maybe I won’t.”
“They won’t cure what’s hurting you.” He leaned forward, as if he was about to share a secret. “The only cure for heartache is a good beer and a good lay. I’d be happy to help...”
“Stop!” He might be an old friend and a local hero, but she didn’t tolerate harassment. Ever. “You need to get the hell out of my bar if you’re going to be a jerk.” She moved toward him, grabbed his hat and clapped it on his head. And if she was a little rough, well, maybe he deserved it. She yanked him off his stool. He staggered into her, throwing an arm around her shoulders for balance.
She took a few steps to counter his weight and regained her footing. Dealing with drunks came with the territory. But dealing with Tyler felt a little different. Because he’d been a friend, she reminded herself. It was that old familiarity that had her noticing the way his body pressed warm and hard against hers. “Please tell me you didn’t drive here.”
“No car,” he told her. “My buddy took the keys.”
“He’s a good friend. You should thank him tomorrow.” She walked Tyler across the room, then shoved open the door so they both stumbled out into the cool night air. “You can walk home. It will do you good. Or sing really loud and the sheriff will pick you up and give you a ride. Of course, he might cite you for disturbing the peace, but I hear the fines are pretty small.”
“You’re the best, Kit.” He pulled her in closer, leaning down as if to plant a kiss on her mouth. She ducked out from under his arm and instinctively stuck her foot behind his. A quick shove on the shoulder and he was flat on his back in the gravel.
He stared at her, and she almost laughed at the shocked expression on his face. “Don’t kiss me,” she told him. “I’m not part of your celebration.”
His smile returned, slow and wide. He sat up and grabbed his hat from where it had fallen, setting it on his head. Then he shoved himself up and staggered a few steps to get vertical. “You haven’t even asked what I’m celebrating.”
“Your retirement. You told me, remember?”
“Nah... Not sure if I want to celebrate that. There’s more. A new business venture.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I don’t care,” she told him.
“Sure you do.”
“Fine,” she said, packing as much sarcasm as she could into her tone. “What venture would that be? Something on your daddy’s ranch?”
He laughed as if she’d said something truly funny. “Nah, my brothers have that covered.” He took a few uneven steps, grinning at her in the faint glow of the outside lights. “You, Kit Hayes, are looking at the new owner of the Dusty Saddle.”
He took a few more steps, tipped his hat, then turned, stumbling down the street toward the center of town.
She stared after him, trying to absorb his words. As he walked away, he took her advice and broke into an off-key rendition of “Rhinestone Cowboy.” Then he disappeared around the corner.
Kit closed her gaping mouth and sank onto the cracked cement steps. Tyler had bought the bar? Kit hadn’t even known it was for sale. Chris had never mentioned it. Which stung, since Kit had been bartending for him for the past nine years.
She shoved her head into her hands. For a moment she relished the darkness there, the shutting out of everything. She’d clung to this idea of owning the Dusty Saddle for the past year. Using it as something to focus on besides Arch. Setting it as a goal to keep her satisfied with living in this town and looking after her dad. And now, in a few heartbeats, that goal had vanished.
This sucked. Just like everything had sucked since Arch got out of prison. She shoved off the step, not willing to sit crumpled and defeated. She walked to the edge of the parking lot. When she faced this direction, there were no lights from town to diminish the night sky. The stars exploded across the darkness, layer upon layer of cosmic insanity.
Usually the sky out here took her breath away. Tonight it just made her nervous. Because it reminded her, the way Tyler had, that in the grand scheme of things, she was nothing.
When Arch told her he didn’t want her after all, he’d broken her heart. But at least she’d had her work. A place where she felt she mattered. Now she knew that wasn’t true. The boss she’d worked so hard for had sold the business without a word to her. Under this vastness of stars she was a speck of dust, adrift and floating around this piece of the planet that once felt like home.
Stuck here, belonging nowhere.
Jealousy hit hot despite the cool air. What was it like to be Tyler Ellis? Born and raised in a wealthy ranching family, talented enough to achieve the highest level of his chosen
