His Last Rodeo

by Claire McEwen

  She stepped back, keeping space between them. “I’m fine,” she said quietly. “But I’m leaving.”

  “What?” He grabbed the envelope from the mailbox and yanked the letter out of it, skimming the contents. She hadn’t said much. Just goodbye and good luck. And that she loved him. He stared at her, his heart pumping ice water through his veins. “You were sneaking away? And leaving me this?”

  She nodded and started to back toward the sidewalk. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be best for both of us if I just went.”

  The hurt crushed him. That she’d even consider just walking out of his life. “You were wrong.”

  Her face was ghostly white. “I have to go.”

  He couldn’t let her. Not without a fight.“I thought you were trying to be brave, to go out and face the world. But this—” he held up the note “—is a coward’s move.”

  It was gratifying, in a twisted way, to see the hurt he felt inside mirrored in her expression. “This is the only thing I could do. Because it hurts to leave. It hurts so badly.”

  “So don’t leave.”

  She shook her head, vehement in her refusal to see logic. “This...this thing between you and me? It was never possible. I was always leaving and I never lied about that.” Her voice rose. “What am I supposed to do? I have to go.”

  “You don’t have to go. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. Look, I’ve traveled. I lived in hotel rooms for years. Trust me when I say it’s overrated. What matters is right here. Building a home and a community. People.” He swallowed hard. “Even love.”

  She looked away at the word. When she looked back at him her hands were clenched to fists, as if she was ready to fight him. “Can’t you see that I need to find that out for myself? I can’t possibly stay when I have this chance to go. What if I stuck around, but became just like my mom? She was always looking down the road, wishing she could drive away. I don’t want to live my life like that.”

  He stared at the pavement, his jaw so tense it ached. There had to be a solution for them. “I’m in love with you,” was all he could come up with. “And damn it, Kit, you’re in love with me. This thing we have, this love, this friendship...we belong together.”

  “You can’t do this to me.” Misery coated her voice. “You knew, before we ever got involved, that I was leaving.”

  “But I thought that if it was right, if we fell in love, you wouldn’t go. Kit...” He held out his hands to her in a primal plea. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  She brushed a sleeve under her eyes. “I have to go. This has been incredible. I care about you so much. But no matter how tempting it might be to stay with you, I can’t put my life on hold one more time because of a guy. No matter how amazing that guy is.” She put out a hand as if to touch him, then drew it back, like she’d changed her mind. “I have to go,” she said. “Or I’ll miss my plane.”

  He could see the tears streaming down her face, a clear message that she was making a mistake. That they’d both regret this moment. “Don’t go.” It was pathetic, but all he had.

  “I’m sorry, Tyler.” She hurried to her Jeep, got in, slammed the door, then drove away.

  He watched her until she got to the end of his street. Until she turned on the county road and disappeared from view.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  TYLER SHOVED THE last box into the storeroom. The delivery had arrived just in time. He had a bull-riding clinic starting at the barn in about ten minutes. A few guys from San Francisco were signed up. They weren’t serious, just here for a weekend bachelor party. He’d have to make sure they understood that drinking and bull riding happened at very different times. And that he didn’t allow strippers at the Dusty Saddle.

  He was looking forward to it, really. His coaching was going well. A few local boys were making a lot of progress under his and Garth’s guidance. A few rookie riders on the professional circuit had spent time in his new arena, trying to work out some kinks in their ride. Trying to take it to the next level.

  While Tyler appreciated all of their ambition and dedication to the sport, it might be nice to spend the weekend with some guys who were looking only for some fun. Because maybe then he could actually have some fun himself.

  He pulled on his coat as he stepped outside. The end of November had ice in the air here against the mountains. His boots crunched on the gravel, loud in the silence. He relished the quiet out here. He’d been spending a lot of his free time on the land, schooling his horses in the arena or heading out for trail rides in the mountains. Once in a while his brothers joined him, but more often he liked to go alone and have the time to ride and think.

  It had been nearly two months since Kit left. He’d learned, pretty quick, that there were two parts to someone leaving. Them getting on that plane, and you letting them go. He’d tried every day to master that second part. But so far, it hadn’t worked so well.

  So he’d finally followed Kit’s example and got himself a self-help book. The Guy’s Guide to Heartbreak. And he was doing what it said. He kept busy. He exercised. He went forward with his plans. He was working on hosting a small bull-riding competition in spring, a practice event for contestants who hoped to enter the town’s annual summer rodeo.

  He kept busy inside the Dusty Saddle, too. He’d hired instructors to teach line dance and Western swing lessons, filling the dance floor with a solid weeknight crowd. And the sports bar was packed almost every night. His ladies’ night, featuring women’s sports and open to women only, was especially popular. It had been Kit’s idea, of course.

  But his self-help book might be a dud, because keeping himself busy didn’t keep him from thinking about Kit. In fact, it was the opposite. The more time and energy he put into the Dusty Saddle, the more he missed her. She was the heart and soul of the place. And it felt empty without her.

  He tried to focus on being grateful, like his book said. Even when losing her felt like he had a hole blasted in his heart. He had no regrets. It had all been worth it.

  Regret, no. Loss, sadness and just plain old missing her? He had those in spades.

  Garth waited at the barn, warm coffee ready in the office, the chart of bull-riding basics up on the big easel. “How are you?” Tyler asked, giving him a clap on the shoulder.

  “Doing good,” Garth said, pulling his hat down a little lower against the chill. “Though not sure we’ll get these guys riding in one weekend.”

  “That doesn’t matter too much. We just need to make sure they have a good time.”

  “Still,” Garth said, watching a black SUV approach, “I wish Kit were here. She’d make sure these guys get the celebration they’re looking for.”

  “Believe me, I miss her, too.”

  “I know you do.”

  Tyler glanced at Garth, wondering how much he knew. They rarely spoke about Kit. What was the point of enduring all the inevitable father-boyfriend awkwardness when Tyler didn’t get to be her boyfriend?

  Garth must have sensed his confusion. He burst into a wheezy laugh. “Son, I may be old, but I’m not blind. I’ve known the both of you your entire lives. I’m fully aware you’re in love with my daughter.”

  “I don’t—” Kit’s father deserved better than his denial. “I do love her. Very much.”

  Garth nodded, watching the SUV park a few yards away.

  “You don’t mind? About me feeling that way?”

  Garth shot him a craggy smile. “You’re like a son to me. So no, I don’t mind that you love her. But I will mind if you don’t get your priorities straight and figure out what really matters to you.” And he went to greet their guests.

  Tyler hung back a moment, feeling the sting of Garth’s words. It wasn’t Tyler’s fault that Kit had left. He’d begged her to stay. What else could he have done?

  Last h
e’d heard she’d finished her language classes in Mexico, done some traveling there, then headed to Guatemala. He got his news from Lila. Kit never emailed or sent him a postcard. Nothing. And he’d given up hoping she would. If she thought of him at all, it was probably with relief that she’d finally put Benson firmly in her rearview forever.

  Enough. He couldn’t stand around missing her like this. He had to accept her choice and keep his focus on running a great business. He shoved his hat farther down on his head and stepped out of the barn to greet the guests. “Anyone here up for a little bull riding?” he called, gratified by the cheers that greeted him. Yeah, this would be fun, and he sure as hell could use some fun right now.

  * * *

  KIT STEPPED OUT of her bungalow on the outskirts of San Pedro, a bustling Caribbean town on the island of Ambergris Caye. She’d arrived in Belize almost two weeks ago, planning to stay a few days. After a couple months of hard traveling in Mexico and Guatemala, she’d been ready for an English-speaking country, for warm sun, sandy beaches and fruity drinks.

  It had been an incredible trip so far. She’d walked the beautiful streets of colonial cities, climbed an active volcano and explored the ancient temples at Tikal. She’d learned to speak Spanish and still felt thrilled every time she had a successful conversation, or asked for directions, or ordered food. She’d walked through jungles, overwhelmed by their lush and dangerous beauty.

  But she’d also been bitten by slimy leeches and enormous mosquitoes, and been surrounded by a group of angry, chattering monkeys. She’d been lost more times than she could count and had a run-in with a tour guide who put the moves on a little too strong. She’d had to pull out her bartending martial arts skills to escape him and it had shaken her, and made her far more cautious.

  She’d come to Belize for rest and peace, and two weeks later, she was still here. She loved her little bungalow with the coconut palms all around it. She loved the white sand beaches and the incredible aqua water. She’d been snorkeling every morning, floating in the clear, still ocean and marveling at all the surreal fish floating along with her. She’d seen an advertisement for a scuba-diving class, and she was thinking of trying it.

  She, Kit Hayes, Benson bartender, might learn to scuba dive. It was almost impossible to imagine.

  As always, she imagined running the idea by Tyler. What would he say? He’d tell her to go for it, of course. He’d say it was her next adventure. But he’d also want her to make sure she had a great teacher. That she’d be safe.

  They might be thousands of miles apart, but he was always with her, in her mind and heart. She’d had countless propositions from men since she left Benson. Other travelers wanting a quick hookup. Locals hoping to score. She’d turned down every offer without a single thought. There was one man she wanted. One man she loved. And maybe they weren’t meant to be, but he’d showed her what real love felt like. And until a guy came along who made her feel like Tyler did, she wasn’t interested.

  Which meant she was leading kind of a lonely life these days.

  That was okay, because the beach was calling and she’d picked up a novel written in Spanish that she was eager to tackle.

  She hefted her bag and started down the sandy path toward the shore, passing the Southern Cross, a beachside restaurant that had become her favorite. Rogelio, the owner, was about her age. A family man who had introduced her to his pretty wife, Angel, and their three adorable children. He served fresh-caught fish and used local ingredients in his drinks, and his brightly painted restaurant had a huge deck where she loved to sit and watch the sunset.

  Rogelio glanced up as Kit walked by and waved vigorously. She waved back.

  “Kit, wait,” he called as he hurried down the steps of the deck.

  “How are you?” When she saw the worried line between his eyebrows, the shadows under his normally smiling eyes, concern stirred. “Is everything okay?”

  “My head bartender quit last night. He’s in love with a mainland girl. Decided to move to Placencia—gave me no notice.”

  “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.” She knew well the bind he was in. It had only happened once at the Dusty Saddle, and they’d been lucky they had other bar staff who could step in to cover.

  “I remember you saying that you are a bartender.” Rogelio wrung his hands. The poor guy looked really stressed.

  “I was,” she answered carefully.

  “Well, naturally, I thought of you. I don’t know if you’d consider staying in Belize, but I can tell you like it here in San Pedro. Would you join me on the deck for a drink? And let me talk you into taking this job?”

  Twenty minutes later, Kit stumbled down the steps in a daze. Rogelio was persuasive. He’d offered her a decent salary that would easily cover her living expenses. He’d understood that she couldn’t stay forever. He wanted her for as long as she could spare.

  So she’d said yes. She was the new head bartender at the Southern Cross, in San Pedro, Ambergris Caye, Belize. It was a pretty exotic address.

  The opportunity was perfect, really. She’d still have plenty of time for her morning snorkel adventures. She could learn to scuba dive on her days off. And bartending on an island full of diverse people—locals and tourists and expats all mixed together—would be unforgettable. This had been her plan. To hit the road and see where life took her. And today life had deposited her in a beachside bar.

  There was another reason she was thrilled to work. She’d never realized how much time traveling gave you to think. Hours and hours, days and days of time to think. And when she thought, she thought about Tyler.

  About how he’d worked so hard to transform the Dusty Saddle into a bar that would make money. How he treated everyone with the same openminded, cheerful respect. How he made her laugh. How he’d given her father a new sense of purpose. How his kisses had transported her to another place, without her ever leaving home.

  The memories were under her skin, making it hard to settle into her new life. She read books to distract herself. She practiced her Spanish. She wrote in a journal, making lists of countries she wanted to see. New experiences she wanted to have. Because no matter how much she missed Tyler, she knew that if she went home, she’d always regret not pursuing this dream to see the world.

  She would start work this afternoon, so she headed to the beach, wanting some time with the sun and her book before she jumped into this next adventure.

  * * *

  TYLER WAS COVERING the original bar while Mario took his break. It was a busy Thursday night. Most of the crowd was on the dance floor, where the lessons had just ended and the DJ had everyone on their feet, trying out their new moves.

  Stan was in tonight, though usually he didn’t show up until Friday. With the cold weather starting, Tyler had noticed a bunch of the regulars coming in on Thursdays as well. They caught the early-bird menu in the restaurant, then spent a few hours nursing their drinks at the bar. Lately they’d been drifting over to the sports bar as well.

  It was early December and snow was on the ground. Maybe that was another reason these guys were coming in earlier and more often. An old trailer out in the desert must feel mighty cold at this time of year.

  Tyler was glad they were here, but it worried him, too. Crater, Stan, all the guys were getting older, and sometimes it felt like the Dusty Saddle was the only real home they had. Who was going to take care of them when they were too old to prospect? Too old to eke out their meager livings?

  For the millionth time, he wished Kit was here. Not just because he missed her, but because he’d love to talk this through with her. Get her ideas. Though knowing her, she’d want Tyler to build homes for all these guys. Find jobs for them.

  He made a mental note to talk with Gray and figure out what it would cost if some of these guys wanted to do odd jobs on his property for room and board and a little spending
money. Because evidently, Kit’s good-hearted generosity had worn off on him and he couldn’t stand to think of a bleak future for his most loyal customers. For Kit’s favorites.

  The door burst open, bringing a blast of cold air. Tyler was surprised to see Miles stride toward him. “What’s going on?”

  Miles flopped down heavily on a bar stool. “Dad’s sick. Dr. Miller says it’s his heart. Parker is taking him to a specialist in Reno.”

  Tyler felt his own heartbeat get a little uneven. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “They think they caught it early enough. He’ll probably need some surgery, but they have to do some more tests first.”

  “Okay, what can I do to help?”

  Miles shrugged. “Nothing. At least, not now. Later on, maybe go visit him.”

  “Of course.” He studied his brother, noting the shadows under his eyes, the sallowness to his skin. “Are you running the ranch on your own?”

  “I have the ranch hands there.”

  “Yeah, but you have winter calves coming soon. No offense, but you look beat.”

  “Are you saying you want to give me a hand on the ranch?”

  Tyler looked around the bar. Everything was running smoothly. His staff was well-trained, and they hadn’t had any major trouble since they’d opened. He didn’t have anything scheduled at the arena, and Garth was perfectly able to handle the day-to-day care of the animals. “I can help out,” he said. “I’ll promote a couple of my senior staff to management. It’s about time I did that anyway.”

  Miles grinned. A tired smile, but Tyler saw the relief there. “Okay, then. Welcome back to the family ranch.”

  It would be a welcome distraction from worrying about their dad. And from missing Kit. “I’ll need a day or two to get things set up around here. After that, you can count on me.”

  “All right then,” Miles said. “And now I need a beer.”