She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she measured a couple rum and Cokes. He was laughing at one of Crater’s lame jokes. She appreciated his interest in the regulars. Some of them lived such lonely lives, on their own out in the high desert that rolled east of the Sierras, eking out a simple and unpredictable living.
They came to the Dusty Saddle for a drink, but they were after much more. A sense of belonging. A chat and the comfort of knowing that someone would miss them if they didn’t show up each weekend. And now Tyler wanted to change all that with his clichéd cowboy ideas. Where would Crater and Stan and the rest of them fit into his fancy new bar?
The old resentment had her slamming the drinks in front of two cute twentysomething girls a little too hard. No matter. They were too busy watching Tyler to notice. Kit didn’t recognize them. They were obviously here for Tyler’s star power, not the ambiance of a dive bar. She’d bet anything that when word got out that hunky Tyler Ellis owned the Dusty Saddle, the clientele would become much younger, much more female and would show up wearing a whole lot more Daisy Dukes and cowboy boots.
Another girl, blond curls cascading from under a pink cowgirl hat, said something to Tyler and he leaned over the bar to listen. She brought her mouth close to speak into his ear, giving him a close-up of her ample cleavage.
He straightened, nodded and walked to the counter behind the bar to start pulling down bottles. He glanced Kit’s way, caught her looking and mouthed the word help.
Kit set three pints in front of the burly ranch hand who’d ordered them, flashing him a smile when he handed her a twenty-dollar bill and told her to “Keep the change.” At the cash register, she kept an eye on Tyler, who was furtively looking something up on his phone. For a second, the resentful part of her considered letting him sweat out whatever order he was trying to fill. But her promise to him earlier wouldn’t let her stay away.
She tapped Tim on the shoulder and tipped her head toward a redhead who was waving her money at them. “Card her? If she’s twenty-one, I’ll buy you a scotch after closing.”
Tim glanced the girl’s way and grinned. “Another Tyler groupie? They start young.”
“Evidently.” Kit joined Tyler. “What’s up? Besides blondie practically pulling your face into her breasts?”
He grinned. “Yeah, how ’bout that? I think I’m going to like this job.”
“I’ll bet.”
His smile dimmed a little. “They want cosmopolitans. I looked up the recipe, but I don’t know how to do this.”
“Piece of cake.” Then his words sank in. Cosmopolitans? Kit hadn’t had an order for a cosmo here in pretty much ever. Change had come to the Dusty Saddle and Tyler hadn’t even torn down a wall yet. Glancing at his phone, she reminded herself of the recipe. Then she grabbed three martini glasses and slicked the rims with lime. She showed him how to dip the rims in sugar and add the cherry and lime to each toothpick as garnish.
“You think you’re ready for the shaker?” She elbowed him like it was something naughty, trying to inject some humor into the lesson.
“I’m ready for anything,” he said with a wink that should not make her skin warm the way it did.
“Since you’re making three, use the biggest shaker and make them all at once.”
It was getting busier and louder in the bar. Tyler tipped his head close to hers to hear her. “How am I supposed to measure it all out?”
She pulled away to avoid his spicy scent, which ran soft fingers over her nerves. Rummaging in a drawer to her left, she grabbed a jigger and showed him the marks on it. “Pour into here to measure the alcohol first.”
He blinked at the small metal cup. “We’re not baking.”
“How else are you going to measure it? Have you practiced your pours?”
He looked confused.
“You have to practice pouring water from a liquor bottle before you can go by instinct.”
“I’ve got good instincts,” he protested.
“For bull riding, maybe,” she countered. “Make your drinks too strong and you’ll waste money and have those girls puking in the bathroom. Tomorrow I’ll show you how to practice. Tonight, use the jigger.”
He nodded. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Kit.”
She headed to the bar, surprised to see Tyler’s red-haired groupie with a drink in her hand. Maybe as Kit was getting older, customers were looking younger. Maybe she just wasn’t used to all these sweet young things in her bar. Tyler’s bar, she corrected herself.
She glanced back as Tyler carefully measured the vodka into the shaker. It was kind of cute, how seriously he was taking this.
What was she doing, thinking he was cute? She wasn’t even sure she liked him. He was cocky. He was overly confident. He wanted to change her bar. And he’d shown up on the busiest night to practice his nonexistent bartending skills. No, she didn’t like him much. Not even the tiniest bit.
Tyler had said she had a soft spot for the lost and lonely. Well, he was neither of those things, and she needed to keep that in mind when her heart went soft on her, like it was doing now.
* * *
TYLER’S BARTENDING CONFIDENCE was rising with every drink he made. So when Crater asked Kit for another pint of Guinness while she was busy with another order, Tyler offered to get it for him.
“No!” Kit and Crater both yelled at the same time. He must have looked surprised because Kit laughed. “Sorry about that,” she said through her giggles. “It’s just that pouring Guinness is tricky.”
“Only Kit pours my pints, usually.” Crater eyed Tyler suspiciously.
“We’ll do it together,” Kit assured him. “And if it’s no good, I’ll pour you another. Tyler needs the chance to learn.”
“Okay then,” Crater said, and turned to Stan. “Sure are a lot of changes happening around here.”
“Sure are.” Stan nodded sagely. “There sure are.”
A lot of changes? Tyler glanced at Kit in disbelief. The only change to the Dusty Saddle so far was that he was behind the bar. Kit’s eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. She loved her regulars but she clearly got the joke.
Kit motioned him over to the Guinness tap. “Okay, this is serious stuff. Are you paying attention?”
“Sure.” He was, but it was difficult, because she smelled good. He’d noticed it earlier, too. Some sort of sweet, spicy scent that interfered with coherent thought.
“Okay, so with Guinness, use the tulip pint glasses.” She pulled one from above the tap. “See how they have a big curve in the side?”
He took the glass and tilted it. “I see it.”
“Fill the glass to the bottom of that curve. Then turn the tap off.”
“Sounds doable.” He put the glass underneath the tap and went to pull it.
“Wait.” Kit covered his hand on the tap with hers. “Tilt the glass at a forty-five-degree angle.”
He liked how it looked, her small white hand with sexy wine-colored fingernails over his tanned knuckles. How was he supposed to focus?
“Okay, now we’re going to pull the tap forward, slowly. Guinness has to slide down the side of the glass. Otherwise it gets too foamy.”
He was stuck on the word slide and how her husky voice was low for only him to hear. He tried to ignore the feel of her hand on his, that scent surrounding him now, the heat of her as she stood so close to his side. He watched the way the dark liquid moved down the glass, breathed her in and...
“Enough.” She brought his hand back so they closed the tap. “Set the glass down right here. Gently.”
Together they lowered the Guinness. “Now just let it stand there.”
“This is quite a process.” Tyler stepped back, needing a little air, a little distance from her and her perfume and the way it made him want to wrap his arms aroun
d her lush curves. Which was totally inappropriate. They were at work, and she worked for him.
“It’s an art. A lot of bartending is. Whether it’s crafting a cocktail or making someone feel a little less alone for a while, it all takes practice and attention to details.”
Tyler stared at her. “You’re like the guru of bartending,” he said, only half teasing.
“I’d prefer princess, thank you very much.” She threw him a wink and turned away, calling, “Don’t you dare touch that pint. I’ll be right back.”
He watched as she approached a couple rugged guys who’d walked up to the bar and leaned across it to give them each a big hug.
Jealousy flared. It was totally irrational.
He stared at the half-poured Guinness, watching the bubbles settle and disappear. Rodeo was one part mind control. Getting on a bull that you knew might kill you was only possible if you blocked out fear. And if he could block that, he could certainly block this inconvenient desire for Kit.
She took the two men their change and blew them a kiss when they raised their glasses to her. They headed for the pool table and she returned to Tyler. “How’s the Guinness?” She eyed the pint. “See how it’s settled? There’s a clear line between the bubbles on top and the liquid underneath.”
At his nod, she went on. “This time, hold the glass straight up, and tip the tap backward. The beer should come out very slowly, right into the middle of the glass.”
He tried to ignore the thrill that returned when she put her hand over his and guided him on the tap. Guinness trickled and Tyler’s pulse kicked up again. “Don’t stop until the foam is all the way to the very rim.” She brought their hands forward to stop the pour at just the right moment. “And there you have the perfect pint of Guinness. Now, take it to Crater for the final judging.” She stepped away and he instantly missed being connected to her.
He shook his head slightly to clear it and set the pint gingerly in front of Crater for his inspection. “Go easy on me, man.”
Crater eyed the pint from above and cocked his head to inspect it from below. “That’s a good-looking pint,” he finally pronounced. He picked it up, took a sip and wiped the foam off his moustache with a satisfied exhale. “Now that is a beer. Well done, Tyler. Stick with Kit and she’ll make a bartender out of you yet.”
“I think you’re right about that.” He’d be happy to stick with Kit. Though he knew she wouldn’t find that idea quite as appealing.
At least she’d helped him tonight. And if he was lucky, she’d help him again. Because he had a feeling that together they could build a lot more than just pints of Guinness. If she could forgive him for what his dad had done to hers.
CHAPTER FIVE
EVERY THURSDAY MORNING Kit restocked the bar. Maybe it wasn’t her job anymore, but she hadn’t heard of a change in this routine from Tyler. In fact, she had barely seen him all week. The Spring Fling weekend had gone by in a packed-bar blur. Then she’d taken time off to drive Dad to Reno for a few doctor’s appointments. He was a Vietnam veteran and still got his services from the VA there.
They’d stayed overnight at a hotel, and it had been nice. She’d treated him to an evening in a casino, given him a roll of quarters to lose at the slots and bought him a steak dinner. He’d smiled more than she’d seen him smile in a long time. As much as she hated casinos, with their stuffy air, flashing lights and jangling slot machine tunes, it had been worth it to see a bit of a spark in her dad again.
Kit moved behind the bar, assessing the shelves, her decisions almost automatic. They were low on vodka and triple sec. Tyler’s cosmos had been a huge hit last weekend. It was almost time to change the keg on the pale ale. The cooler that held the bottled beer was practically empty.
Walking into the storeroom, her thoughts were still on her father. He’d been happy on their Reno trip, but he’d been ready to come home after their short visit. He wasn’t someone who wanted vast amounts of leisure time. She needed to find him a purpose. Maybe they could do another project around his house. The porch steps had turned out well, and it was a relief not to worry that he might crash through them.
She remembered the chipping paint on his walls. Repainting could be their next project. She’d grab some color samples at the hardware store and take them over.
She didn’t relish the idea of spending her free time painting, but hey, it would keep her busy, too. Keep her mind off the aimless feeling her life had taken on ever since Tyler had bought her sense of purpose out from under her.
Luckily this week had brought good news. A job offer from the High Country Sports Bar. Not full-time work, but enough hours to make her consider the position. Maybe it was worth taking a pay cut in order to have a new start. Although last weekend had been kind of fun. Surprisingly, she’d enjoyed working with Tyler. So maybe she didn’t really want to leave.
She put sticky notes on the kegs she needed to bring out. She’d wrestle them onto the hand truck later on. Pausing, she tapped her pencil idly against the paper in her hand. All the fun she’d had with Tyler behind the bar was exactly why she should take another job. The guy could charm anyone, and while it was kind of fun to feel that spark of interest, it would be a terrible idea to act on it.
She walked to where the spirits were and pulled the cord on the overhead bulb so she could see what she was doing. She blinked. Swallowed hard. The shelves were practically empty. Tyler must have forgotten to unpack the boxes.
There were boxes near the outside door, and she knelt to skim the labels. Why were there eight cases of white wine? And two cases of fancy tequila? Where was the vodka? The bottles of Budweiser? The bourbon?
Pulling out her cell phone, she hit the number for the distributor and left a message on his voice mail, asking him to call her. She checked around the room with her heart fluttering in panic. It was Thursday—a busy night. The start of the weekend, which would be busier than usual now that Tyler’s rodeo fans were showing up.
She glanced around a little wildly. She had enough beer, as long as customers ordered what was on tap. But there was only one bottle of light rum. No dark. Then her phone chimed. Brian, her distributor, told her that what she had on hand was what had been ordered this week.
Tyler. He’d insisted on doing the order himself.
Damn.
“Kit?” Tim’s voice sounded.
She went into the bar to see him standing by the office door. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m here for work,” he told her.
“It’s morning. We only need one person. Are you sure you didn’t get mixed up?”
He pointed to the office and she crossed the bar to look. Both their names were on the schedule for this shift. At least, it looked that way. Tyler’s handwriting was messy. Names were written at odd angles.
“He spelled my name wrong,” Tim said. “I’m Tin now.”
“You’re the tin man,” Kit teased him. “And look. Ernie is Eernie.”
Tim laughed. “His ears do stick out.”
Kit frowned. There were two names written in for tomorrow morning as well. “Will you watch the bar? I’ll go find Tyler and ask him about this. There’s something else I need to speak with him about.”
“Sure.”
She made her way outside, around the back of the building and through the trees to the old barn. Tyler leaned on the wall, his brown cowboy hat tipped down to block the morning sun. He laughed at something Aaron, of Aaron’s Mountain Building, said.
Aaron waved when he spotted her. They’d known each other forever. Even dated a few years ago, until she’d called it off because something didn’t feel quite right. Luckily, Aaron had been nice about it. And he’d met the love of his life soon after.
His grin was the only bright thing about the morning. “How you doing, hon?” He pulled her in for a qui
ck hug.
“Doing okay.” She shot Tyler a glare to let him know otherwise. “How are Charlotte and the baby?”
“Perfect. She wants you to come by when you can.” He glanced at her lace top. “Wear something a little less fancy. I love my son, but he drools like a Saint Bernard.”
Kit smiled. “I appreciate the warning. Would you mind if I borrowed Tyler for a minute?”
“Sure. Take him for longer. He’s given me so much work my head’s gonna explode if he fires off any more ideas.”
“Yeah, he’s got a lot of those.” She didn’t bother hiding her wry tone. She was too panicky to play nice.
Aaron must have picked up on it because he whistled low. “Hope you had your coffee this morning, Tyler. ’Cause I think you are about to have a whole lot on your plate. Good luck.” He clapped Tyler on the shoulder and strolled off. He was a solid guy.
Unlike certain bar owners who had no idea what they were doing.
“Okay,” Tyler drawled, tipping his hat back so she could see his eyes. “What’s got you so upset? I’ve been practicing my pours. I can recognize an ounce of vodka from ten miles away.”
She ignored his humor. “You put both Tim and me on the schedule today. He’s inside now. You’ve got an extra person scheduled for tomorrow as well. And you messed up the liquor order. Tonight’s going to be busy and we don’t have what we need.” Frustration boiled over. “Why didn’t you let me do my job? I always do the schedule. And the order!”
“Because I need to learn the business,” he said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You ordered eight cases of white wine. We needed three at most.”
“Well, wine improves with age, right?”
“Right, but it won’t improve your ability to stay within budget.”
His Last Rodeo Page 7