His Last Rodeo

by Claire McEwen

  Regardless, he still didn’t have a solution, so he got on his bike and headed back to San Pedro. Along the way he tried to psych himself up for the trip home. He’d brought his laptop, so on the flight back he’d go through the calendar he and Garth had drafted before he left. Maybe make some adjustments so he’d have time to visit Kit again soon. Again, not a solution, but at least it was something to look forward to.

  He dropped his bike and gear off at the rental shop and went to find her. Her shift was ending soon and they’d talked about walking through town and grabbing dinner. Maybe he’d wait until after they ate to tell her he needed to leave. Not that he had an appetite for food.

  * * *

  KIT TOOK A SIP from her beer and studied the menu. They’d picked a local restaurant on a side street in town, and the big open windows and bright tropical colors on the walls should have made for a cheery meal. But Tyler had been quiet when he picked her up, and most of her attempts at conversation had failed.

  A waiter came to take their order. When he’d finished, Kit reached across the table for Tyler’s hand. It was tanned from his days in the sun here. Island life suited him. Cargo shorts and flip-flops actually went pretty well with his rodeo T-shirts. She loved having him in Belize with her these last couple weeks. And despite the unresolved issue between them, she was glad they’d moved beyond their epic fight his first night here and been able to enjoy each other.

  She’d become remarkably adept at ignoring the future these past few days. She’d conjured up some kind of mental blinders that had her seeing only what was directly in front of her. Because when she looked ahead, to life without Tyler, it felt like she was heading into some kind of abyss. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I need to get back home. There’s a flight tomorrow. I think I should be on it.”

  And there it was. The abyss. Looming and lonely. “Oh?” She tried to hide the quaver in her voice by taking a sip of her beer.

  “It’s time.” His voice sounded like a burden that he was tired of carrying. “I’ve got events planned at the bar that I can’t delegate.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath, hoping it would stabilize her. But instead her lungs filled with tears and she had to stare hard at the label of her bottle to keep them from rising up to her eyes.

  Tyler stared out the window at the palm-tree view, his jaw a set line of resolve.

  Kit didn’t try to fill the silence between them. And into it crept a conversation from a nearby table. American voices, discussing the menu.

  “I like Belize,” a man was saying. “But I wish I could get a decent steak. Or a burger. Or anything.”

  “I know, honey,” a woman’s voice agreed. “The meat here is terrible. Everyone says so. Their cattle are just so lean. But fish is better for you, anyway.”

  Their voices darted back and forth as they discussed the pros and cons of each menu item. Kit peeled the label off her beer, wishing the couple would find something that appealed to them and be done with it. But slowly, the tourists’ debate over plantains, beans and types of fish sank deeper into her mind and an idea started forming, growing...

  Tyler turned to face her suddenly, a determined expression on his face. “I’m staying here,” he told her.

  “What?” she gasped out. “You can’t—”

  “Just listen,” he said. “Please?”

  She stared at him, her heart pulsing in her throat. Not believing what she’d just heard.

  “I keep thinking about what you were saying that first night. That this is your dream. That traveling, living in new places, is what you need.”

  She nodded, trying to remember to breathe.

  “Well, I’ve had my dreams. A bunch of them.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “Hell, I’m a world champion bull rider. Most guys would be satisfied with that.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. It was so true. “You’ve always been driven. I get that.”

  “Well, maybe I’ve been too driven. So busy pushing forward with this bar, with this rodeo school, that I’ve lost sight of other stuff that matters. Being here, in Belize, and just hanging out, swimming, snorkeling, being with you, it’s taught me something. That there’s more to life than chasing after a goal. There’s also plain old living.”

  Kit inhaled a shaky breath. She’d dreamed of hearing words like this from him. But she never thought she would. “I don’t know if you’d be happy just living,” she said gently. “I always figured that your drive to turn the Dusty Saddle into something so big was part of that adrenaline rush you told me you need. That working so hard to make that place a success was your new eight seconds on the bull.”

  His slow-building grin warmed better than the tropical sun streaming in the restaurant window. “You’re probably right,” he said. “But there’re other ways to get that rush. And the best way I know of is spending time with you.”

  She was smiling so wide it ached. How was this possible? Life hadn’t delivered much of what she’d dreamed of, but now it was handing her this. “Are you saying that I’m your eight seconds?”

  He laughed. “I want a hell of a lot more time than that. I want to be with you. Have kids with you. Have a life with you. I could see it all so clearly today, on my bike ride, but I was still scared to throw away what I’ve been working for. Sitting here with you, I realized I don’t want that anymore. At least, I don’t want it the way I want you.”

  He reached for something below the table. And brought out the ring he’d had on that first night, on the beach. “I shoved this in my pocket tonight. Just in case I could convince you to come home with me. But I am home. Wherever you are is home for me.”

  She took the ring with shaking fingers, studying it, giving herself a moment to take this all in. Fiery rubies and cool diamonds clustered into a flower. The dark and the light combining to make something incredibly precious and unexpected, just like them.

  This miracle. This happy ending. Over everything else, he was choosing her as his dream, as his goal.

  He was beside her suddenly, on one knee. “Marry me.” His voice was rough with so much emotion behind it. “Marry me and I promise you, I will fill your life with love and adventure.”

  She nodded, and he took the ring and slid it onto her finger, where it sparkled like a beacon in the sunlight. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him through the tears that had spilled over now.

  And when they’d toasted with rum punch, and thanked the waiters and their fellow diners for the congratulations, she leaned across the table, trying not to be too distracted by the beautiful ring on her finger. Because there was one piece missing from this life he’d just offered. But she thought she might have a way to fix it.

  “What about the Dusty Saddle?” she asked.

  He looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, we can keep it, for now, and pay Lila and Tim to run it.”

  “I don’t want you to give up everything for me. I know you say you want to, but it doesn’t feel right. We would need to go home to check on the bar. Maybe we could go in the summer, and you could still do some of your rodeo clinics.”

  He brightened. “I’d like that. And your dad and Gray can run the classes when I’m gone. I bet I know some other ex-rodeo cowboys who need a purpose in life. I can hire them, too.”

  “So you’d still have your rodeo school,” Kit said, relieved. “And we can see our families and friends and have some time in Benson.”

  “And we could still house our old timers,” Tyler added. “If Crater and Stan and the other regulars decide to move onto the property, they can do general maintenance. The place would do well with all of them helping.”

  “And I had another idea,” she told him. “What if we took the Dusty Saddle on the road with us?”

  “What do you mean?” He gave a nod toward her rum punch. “Do I need t
o cut you off?”

  She giggled. “No! I was listening to these tourists earlier, complaining that they couldn’t get decent beef here. It made me think...what if we opened a chain of Western bars around the world? Then we could live in a different place each time we opened one. And we’d have a purpose, because as much as I love traveling, I’ve realized that without work, it can feel kind of aimless. That’s why I was so happy to take the job at Rogelio’s bar. But what if, instead, we opened bars of our own?”

  He leaned forward in his chair and she could see the excitement in his eyes. “We’re an amazing team,” he said. “And I love working with you.”

  “Just picture it,” she said. “We’d travel the world, building new versions of the Dusty Saddle.”

  “A Dusty Saddle empire.” He threw back his head and laughed. “I like it.”

  “Let’s say we opened a Dusty Saddle right here in San Pedro. A nice bar, done Caribbean style, but maybe with a few Western touches to the decor, too. They have ranchers in Central America. We can honor their traditions. Put their photos on the wall. Their lariats, their saddles.”

  Tyler’s green eyes had a familiar spark to them. “And a restaurant. We could find local beef that’s raised well. Maybe some of our menu could reflect local ingredients, and some choices would taste just like home.”

  “We’d play country music, so people could hear something familiar. And we’d make awesome cocktails, of course.” Kit wasn’t sure it was possible to be any happier. She picked up her glass of punch and raised it. “To the Dusty Saddle,” she said.

  He lifted his glass to meet hers. “To us. Together. Wherever life takes us.”

  “Together. Wherever. Forever.” Kit took a sip of her punch.

  “Sounds like you just wrote our wedding vows,” Tyler said, and he was out of his seat, pulling her up and into his arms to kiss her right there in the middle of the restaurant. “I love you, Kit. I think I always have. I know I always will. I came back to Benson, looking for home. And I found you. Thank you for showing me where home really lies.”

  Kit wrapped her arms around him, knowing with a sudden fierce certainty that there was nothing else she needed more than this. “Thank you, so much, for coming home, to me.”

  EPILOGUE

  KIT CHECKED THE buckle on her harness, even though the employee at the Rain Forest Canopy Tour had already checked as well. She looked up to see Tyler doing the same. “Ethan would be proud of us,” she teased, then made her voice deep and gruff, like their friend’s. “You, and only you, are responsible for your safety.”

  “And that means you check every piece of gear personally.” Tyler adopted the same voice.

  And then they both laughed and said their favorite Ethan quote in unison. “Trust your feet.”

  Kit glanced down at the rickety wooden platform that made it a little hard to trust her feet. Memories of their friend made her wistful. “I wish he could see us now.”

  Tyler pulled his phone from his pocket. “He can.” They took a selfie with the canopy behind them. “I can email it to him once we have some Wi-Fi.”

  They’d been in the jungles of Costa Rica for a week. Taking a break from supervising the construction of their new bar in Belize. Taking time for some fun before they started planning their wedding, which would take place at the Dusty Saddle back home.

  The man in charge of the platform turned to them. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready to slide along this cable suspended seventy feet in the air?” Kit’s heart started hammering so hard it was almost hard to hear. “Um...sure?”

  Tyler laughed and pulled her close to kiss her hair. “You’ll be fine. More adventure, remember?”

  More adventure. Their motto these days. “More adventure,” she agreed.

  Before they zip-lined side by side through the rain forest, their host gave them a few last-minute instructions. “Now, to go together, count to three, then jump,” he told them. “And most importantly, have fun.”

  Kit tried to avoid looking down, but her eyes were drawn to the forest floor so far below. She bit her lip, her nerves threatening to overtake her sense of adventure.

  “We’ve got this,” Tyler said quietly. “Just look at me.”

  So she watched him and he held her gaze, the look in his eyes a mix of excitement and comfort. “There’s no one I’d rather jump with,” he told her.

  “Ready?” The man looked a little impatient. He probably had another band of tourists waiting below.

  She could do this. She could do anything with Tyler at her side. She nodded. “Ready.”

  The man counted off for them. “One...two...three...”

  And they jumped.

  She was flying. She was airborne. It was terrifying except the harness held her firmly to the line and the handlebar gave her something to grip, and Tyler was flying beside her, laughing like a maniac and making her laugh, too. They sailed down and into the trees past a flock of parrots sitting on a high branch, past the vines and tangled branches of the rain forest canopy.

  “Look!” Tyler took a hand off his bar, to point at something ahead of them.

  Kit, white-knuckling it all the way, looked in that direction and yelped. “Monkeys.” Howler monkeys, lounging on branches, gazing at them with sleepy eyes as they flew by.

  Then they were at the next platform, and the worker there unhooked them and attached them to the next line. This time, when they jumped in unison, Kit looked around at the green blur of the trees, at the bright blue of the sky. She’d never felt more alive. It was almost scary to think that if she’d never left Benson, she might never have felt this.

  Then she glanced at Tyler and he gave her a wink that warmed her with love and gratitude. That he’d come home and bought the Dusty Saddle. That he’d given her the chance to see the world—that he loved her enough to uproot his life and see it with her. Most of all, she was grateful that he made her feel, every day, the way she did right now. Completely loved. And like every moment, every experience, was a new and perfect adventure.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from FAMOUS IN A SMALL TOWN by Kristina Knight.

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  Famous in a Small Town

  by Kristina Knight

  CHAPTER ONE

  DECISION TIME.

  Savannah Walters sat staring at the faded red stop sig
n at a crossroads—one would lead her into complete anonymity and the other back to a place where everyone knew who she was.

  Anonymity beckoned, slick and sweet. A simple left-hand turn onto the southbound lane of a rural highway in southwestern Missouri. She would roll the windows down in her old Honda, smell the freshly mowed highway grass and maybe pass a tractor or twelve before she hit the next town, a town with a bigger road leading to an interstate that would lead her...anywhere.

  She hit the turn signal even though there were no other cars on this stretch of blacktop and listened to the click-click-click of it for a long moment. All she had to do was make the turn. This was her chance. A bigger chance than the one she’d taken when she’d elected to go to Nashville. A bigger chance than the one she’d taken to get onto the reality talent show that had made the Nashville move possible. No one would ever have to know she was that Savannah Walters again.

  Hell, if she wanted, she could change her name completely and maybe cut off the signature micro-braids she’d spent three days installing, then no one would even make a tiny connection between her and about-to-fall-from-grace, one-hit-wonder Savannah Walters. She could be anything and anyone she wanted. The thought made her giddy. If she could, she would choose to be smart, strong and capable, rather than the dumb, weak and dependent person she’d been since she’d landed in Slippery Rock, Missouri, at the age of seven.

  Her second-chance self would have a name like Nancy Smith because there had to be a million Nancy Smiths in the world. Nancy Smith would only sing in the shower or in the car with her windows rolled up. She would work as a bank teller and wear normal clothes without a single rhinestone, and maybe once she was settled she’d go to dental hygienist school. She would eventually buy a small house in a quiet neighborhood, and maybe she would meet a nice guy—not in a bar—and have a real relationship for the first time in her twenty-seven years.

  Savannah’s heart a beat a little faster. Nancy Smith wouldn’t care what people thought of her. She would be stronger than that. Stronger than Savannah Walters, who had been afraid of what people thought of her for...most of her life.