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He pushed the button and filled the glasses. It was the only easy thing about today so far. He was still absorbing the news about Kit’s dad. And trying to contain the anger he felt toward his own.
He put the nozzle back and followed her to sit side by side. Kit pulled the folder toward him so he could see it and her elbow brushed his. Her dress had short sleeves, and he tried not to stare at the inked rattlesnake that wound its way up her arm, highlighting the way every toned muscle rippled under her creamy skin. It wasn’t a tattoo he’d have imagined for her, but then again, what did he know? They’d both changed a lot since they were kids.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he directed his attention to the papers she’d laid out.
“Here are the schedule requests,” she said. “Everyone fills one out each week, or they get what they get and no griping.”
“Okay.” He picked one up and read over it. “Loomis only wants weekends?”
“He’s full-time at Lone Mountain Ranch during the week.”
“Got it.”
“So once you’ve gone through the request sheets and you know what everyone wants, you plug them into the calendar on the office wall.”
“It sounds pretty straightforward.”
“It is, sometimes. Other times, everyone wants the same thing so you have to be diplomatic. This week, for example, everyone wants to work Saturday night. And, for that matter, so do I.”
“Why this Saturday?”
“The Benson Spring Fling. Huge crowd. Good tips.”
Tyler remembered the Fling, with its rummage sale, the art walk downtown, horsemanship demos at the fairgrounds. And he remembered one Spring Fling especially. He and Kit had met up as the day became dusk, and ended the night in the back of a cop car.
She might have remembered it, too, because her pale skin tinged pink. Or maybe she wished he’d hurry up and learn the scheduling so she could get out of here.
“So how do I decide?”
“You’re the boss. Figure it out.”
“But what would you do?”
“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo.” Her feral-cat smile gave no guarantee she told the truth.
“Right.”
She took a slow slip of her water, regarding him levelly over the glass. “It’s a little surreal, you know, that you’re going to be my boss.”
“So that means you’ll stay and be my employee?” He said it lightly, but it was a real question and they both knew it.
She studied him for a moment, as if considering a serious answer. Then all her sass and attitude were back. “If you’re really, really lucky.” She slid off her stool. “I’ve got to go. Make sure you put me on for Saturday night.”
She gave him the opening. Not his fault if he took it. “Eeny, meeny, miny, mo.”
Laughing low, she grabbed her bag. “Story of my damn life. See you around, Tyler.”
He watched her saunter out of the bar, riveted by the way her hips moved, by the fall of her hair when she shook it down her back, by the brittle note he’d heard in her laugh that made him wonder if she was really laughing at all.
* * *
KIT BLINKED, the bright sunlight of the parking lot accosting her after the dim light inside the bar. Round two with Tyler. At least she hadn’t knocked him down this time. That was an improvement.
But not a great one. She hated feeling out of control, but that’s how she’d been in that staff meeting. She knew she was being rude, but somehow she’d been unable to stop. She’d been overcome with a fiery resentment that Tyler could walk in and have the power to change the bar she loved. Just because he had money.
Her thoughts stopped her in her tracks and she fumbled for her keys, absorbing the idea. They’d been friends growing up, but he’d always been the rich kid. The one with the horses they rode, with the truck, as they got older. He’d always had so much to offer, and she’d just tagged along behind.
Is that what all of this fury was really about? Whatever the reason, she had to get it under control. Tyler was right to reprimand her. Her behavior at the meeting was childish and rude. If she wanted to keep working at the Dusty Saddle, she’d have to learn to keep her mouth shut.
She located her keys, but instead of opening the Jeep she leaned against it, looking west toward the immense Sierra peaks, as tumbled and jagged as the jealousy that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her soul. It had been there ever since Arch came to town and fell in love with Mandy. But now the jealousy encompassed the bar, too. Because once again, something she’d wanted had been scooped up by someone else. Someone who couldn’t appreciate it the way she did.
She shouldn’t keep working here. Not if it ate at her like this. Not if it was going to bring her to this place where she didn’t want to be, wishing so badly for what someone else had.
She’d lied to Tyler about not being able to work today. About having something on her calendar. She had nothing. Just a pile of self-help books and a long afternoon in front of her. Maybe she’d make use of it to fill out an application for a job at the High Country Sports Bar. Because clearly it was time for a change.
* * *
TYLER PULLED HIS truck alongside his father’s cattle barn and cut the engine. A ranch hand had pointed him this way, saying that his father was here looking over a new bull. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the spring sunshine on his face. The warmth felt good after all the tension this morning. He still couldn’t decide what was worse. His challenging staff meeting, or learning that his dad had fired Garth.
There was also the way he kept thinking about Kit. That wasn’t great, either. Because she was beautiful and sexy as hell, and he had no business noticing that. Maybe it was a little twisted, but he’d kind of liked the way she stood up to him. He wasn’t used to it. The women he met on the road were drawn to him because they liked rodeo cowboys. They’d flirted with him and fawned on him more with each victory. Kit, on the other hand, seemed totally unimpressed. It was strangely refreshing.
Tyler shoved his shoulder into the door of his truck when he opened it, not because it was stuck shut but because he needed the impact to jar him out of his reverie. Kit was his employee, and hopefully, still his friend. He should just be grateful for her help with the schedule today.
He should be focused on the injustice his dad had done to hers.
“Dad,” he called as he stepped into the barn. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the shadows and spotted his dad at the end of the center aisle. He walked toward him, trying to assemble the words he needed to say into some kind of coherent order.
“Tyler.” His dad nodded at his approach. “Check out Red Letter.”
The Hereford bull was knee-deep in straw, chewing on alfalfa hay. He eyed Tyler balefully, so much calmer than the bulls he’d faced in the arena. “Looks too mellow to get much done with the heifers.”
Talking cattle was about the only time Tyler saw his dad smile. “Don’t underestimate him. Give him his own herd and no tough Angus bulls to compete with, and he’ll do just fine.”
“You’re cross-breeding. Doesn’t that reduce the price when you sell?”
“A little,” his dad said. “But it strengthens the herd in the long run.” He turned away from the bull and fixed his piercing gaze on Tyler. “You miss the bulls? Is that why you came by?”
“I miss them a little, but it’s not why I’m here. I came by to talk about Garth Hayes.”
His dad looked startled. Then worried. “Is he okay?”
“Depends on what you mean by okay. According to Kit, you fired him.”
His father’s face drew into harsher lines. “I did. He wasn’t pulling his weight.”
“I’m sure he was doing all he could. He’s getting older, but the guy can still work.”
“If he wants to work, he can. Just not here.”
“And who the hell is going to hire him?” Tyler tried to keep his voice steady, but frustration cut through his tone. “He should be allowed to grow old working here, on the ranch he’s given everything to. Why don’t you want him here anymore? Did he do something wrong?”
“Not really. But now that your brothers are taking on so much responsibility, we just didn’t need him anymore.”
A deep breath stemmed the fury that threatened to erupt at his father’s cold dismissal of a loyal man. Sometimes it seemed like his wife’s death had siphoned all the compassion out of Ken’s soul.
Tyler willed away the feeling that he was a kid about to get his ideas shot down by his dad one more time. “He’s got no money. He isn’t receiving much of his pension.”
Annoyance drew his dad’s thick gray eyebrows together. “I already told that daughter of his that Garth’s pension situation is out of my control. He borrowed against it and never repaid the money. If he has a complaint about that, he has to contact the folks who manage the pension fund.”
“You know full well that the pension fund isn’t going to help him out. And did it ever occur to you that the reason he never paid back that loan is maybe you didn’t pay him enough? When was the last time you gave your ranch hands a raise?”
“They make plenty,” his father snapped. “What, you want me to pay off their gambling debts, too? Their bar tabs? I have grown men working for me and I expect them to handle their own finances.”
“And I’m sure most of them do. But Garth worked for you almost his entire adult life. He put in twelve-plus hour days, whether the sun was blistering or the snow was piled deep. He was here on Thanksgiving and Christmas, making sure things ran smoothly while we were all inside enjoying our dinner. He took that loan out because he’s an honorable man who felt obligated to provide for his wife, even though she left him. Don’t you think we should help him out?”
His father’s face went pale with a rage Tyler hadn’t seen since the day he told his father he was hitting the road to rodeo full time. “I have fulfilled my obligations to Garth, and to all of my other employees.”
Tyler pulled out his last ace. It was just a guess, but it was worth a try. “What do you have against him? What did he do to you? Is this about how he taught me to ride a bull?”
His father flinched and Tyler knew his guess had some merit.
But no way would his father admit it. “I’ve done nothing wrong. Garth Hayes retired with all the money that was due him. I met my obligation to him.”
“You fired him for no good reason. The least you can do is give him a comfortable retirement. You can certainly afford it.”
His father shook his head, his entire face drawn into a defensive mask. “You’re a businessman now, son. And you’ve got to learn to keep emotions out of your work if you’re going to have any success.”
“If success means turning my back on the people who work for me, then I’ll take failure any day.” Tyler turned away from his father’s narrow worldview, shoulders aching from the tension. He started back through the barn, disappointment weighting his steps.
“Tyler,” his father called.
A flicker of hope rose in his heart, but sputtered as soon as Tyler saw the bitter line of his dad’s mouth.
“You’ll see that I’m right.” His father clenched his fists at his sides as tightly as he’d clenched the warmth out of his soul. “The best thing you can do for your employees is to run a tight ship. Expect a lot from them, give them what they’re due and nothing more. Everyone will benefit.”
“What I see is that you and I are different,” Tyler said. “And I don’t believe your view is one I want to live by.”
He headed for his truck, refusing to look back again. He couldn’t control his father’s choices, but he could make amends. He’d find a way to repay Garth the debt his family owed him. That he personally owed him. And if he made Kit feel a little better about things in the process, well, that would ease his mind, too.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u9fb55c7e-799c-58cf-a126-c04c327f2721)
TYLER BLINKED AT the inventory list in front of him. The columns of numbers, units, price per unit, net cost, blurred into a gray blob that ached behind his eyes. He glanced around the small office with its battered desk and dusty window. Maybe he needed more light. He’d pick up a desk lamp at the hardware store later on today.
He stood, rubbing his temples. Who was he kidding? He’d been trying to get his mind around the paperwork all week. It was his third day as owner of the Dusty Saddle, and he’d made almost no progress with any of the files Chris had left behind.
It had always been like this for him. Textbooks, manuals, graphs...they all made him dizzy. Words and numbers were tricky things that never seemed to hold their meaning. It’s why he’d left school early. Why he’d left the army. Why he’d chosen rodeo. Bull riding might be dangerous, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as that moment when someone realized he could barely read.
Laughter rippled into the office and he gave in to the temptation, following the sound to its source. Kit. She was behind the bar, laughing at something one of their customers had said. It was a quiet Wednesday afternoon and the guys looked like backpackers, decompressing after a trip in the mountains. Their cargo shorts, hiking boots and back-turned caps were trail-dusted. Their eager eyes, fixed on Kit, were way too eager.
How could he blame them? He wanted to plunk himself next to them and stare, too. She was all creamy skin, thick black hair and dark eyes made up even darker, so a guy could lose himself trying to see behind her tough facade.
Or find himself. Because all that confidence surrounding Kit like heady perfume promised that maybe some of that amused poise would infuse you, lift you up and put your demons on the run.
Tyler joined her behind the bar and she fixed him with the baleful glance he was getting used to. It wasn’t a welcome, more like an amused tolerance of his presence. “You need anything?” she asked.
“Just wondering if you want me to fill in for a bit,” he offered.
She shrugged. “I don’t really need a break yet.” She shot a flirtatious smile to the backpackers. “Plus, we’re having fun here.”
He was jealous and lost in his own bar. His own business, which didn’t yet feel like his.
“Do you need a job?” Her smile reminded him of the coiled snake tattooed on her arm. “Because I’m sure I can think of something that needs doing.”
He jerked his gaze away from her smile. “I saw the order is due in tomorrow. I figured I’d go fill it. Is there a list of what we’ve kept in stock?”
“On the wall in the storeroom,” she said. “I’ll do the ordering if you like. I always did it for Chris.”
“If I want to learn the business, I figure I’d better do it myself.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. There are blank order forms on a clipboard on the shelf in there.”
“Okay.” Tyler felt her eyes on him as he pushed through the door behind the bar that led to the cramped storeroom. Enlarging this space was high on his list of improvements. He unlocked the door that led outside and propped it open, grateful for the infusion of pine-scented air. Picking up the clipboard from the shelf, he took a look at the order form. His eyes crossed.
More rows and columns. Liquor names listed down the left-hand side. The number of bottles they kept in stock listed next to that. All he had to do was fill in the column with the amounts to be ordered. It was simple. He could do this.
He started at the top. Vodka. They generally kept two dozen bottles around. He jumped up on a stool, grateful to do something active. He counted four bottles, but they’d use a couple in the next few days. He jotted twenty-four on the list. Made his way to triple sec...rye...rows and rows that started to slither like snakes on the page so he traced across with his finger to make sure he was writing on the correct line.
Half an hour later he was finished and desperate to escape from any more paperwork. Fortunately, he had errands to do. He was still moving into the house he’d rented a few blocks away from the bar. He needed dishes, cleaning supplies, pretty much everything. As much as he hated shopping, it would be better than more forms or schedules. He set down the clipboard and headed out to the bar.
Kit was still chatting with the hikers. The scruffy bearded guy was telling Kit a story, gesticulating with hands that housed a woven rainbow-colored bracelet and a thick silver ring, while she polished glasses.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Tyler said, not sorry at all. “I’m gonna head out for some errands. What time do you want a break?”
“In an hour. Or later is fine, too.”
“Okay then.” Still, he lingered, glancing toward the guys at the bar and not liking the way the bearded hiker stared at her backside with the rapt expression of a guy in his own personal heaven.
“You’ve got my cell number,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t hesitate to call if these clowns try anything.”
One raised eyebrow messaged her utter disbelief. “These college boys? Please.”
“I don’t like the way they look at you.”
She laughed at that. “Tyler, I’ve been doing this job for years. I know how to handle a few hikers. Now go do something useful.”
She still saw a kid when she looked at him and Tyler felt that old high-school need rise up. The need for her to see him as more than just a buddy. It grated. Here he was, fifteen years later, still wanting her to see him differently. Some things never changed.
He had to get a grip. Kit Hayes wasn’t the reason he was in Benson. He should focus on what really mattered—making a name for himself, right here in his hometown. Showing everyone who’d doubted him that he was more than a bull rider. More than the kid who’d never been anything but trouble in school and regret in his daddy’s eyes.
