His Last Rodeo

by Claire McEwen

  “Mrs. Kennedy, the principal, she said you tutor kids. Do you think you’d have time to tutor me as well? I’d pay you, of course. And I’d work around your schedule. We could meet wherever and whenever is convenient for you.”

  She bit her lip, glanced around the room. As if trying to figure out where she’d fit one more student into her obviously full workload. “I’m not an expert in dyslexia.”

  “I’d bet you know more about it than anyone else in this town.”

  “What kinds of problems are you having?”

  He described the scheduling problems. Spelling names wrong. Lines that seemed to wiggle and blur when he stared at them too long. Words that never felt familiar, no matter how many times he practiced. “When I was riding bulls, I didn’t notice it as much—there just wasn’t that much reading. I had an agent I trusted with my contracts and an accountant I trusted with my money. But the day-to-day running of a bar, well, I had no idea there was so much paperwork.”

  “I can see how that would be very difficult.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’d need to give you some assessments, so I can figure out what you know and where the gaps are. Do you have time to take a few tests now?”

  Relief, that he’d found her, that she wasn’t laughing at him, that she would help him, had him nodding instead of speaking.

  She went to a file cabinet and rummaged, while he looked at the alphabet above the whiteboard and the kids’ work in rainbow colors on the walls. She set papers and a sharpened pencil on the table in front of him. “Start with those, okay?”

  So he pulled his tiny chair up to the tiny table and started writing. The time-warp feeling came back as he carefully read the words on the page, touching each one with his finger to keep on track. Just as he had twenty-five years ago in this very room.

  Only he had a different teacher now. And she was humming as she sorted through some papers on the other side of the classroom. And he had a feeling that if anyone could teach him to read, it was Mrs. Lopez of room eight, Benson Elementary School.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “HEY KIT, WILL you take a look at this?” Tyler came through the office door and set the paper on the table in front of her.

  “What is it?” Kit put her book down. She’d arrived for her Friday evening shift a little early, and since the bar was empty and Mario was still working, she’d curled up in the big office chair with the next book in her stack of self-help reads.

  “It’s our contract. I had my lawyer write it up.” He paused. “Hang on...you look different. Did you get a haircut?”

  It had taken all week to find the courage to try Lila’s make-under for herself. But she’d ditched the heavy makeup today and let her hair keep the waves it was born with. “Yeah, kind of,” she muttered. Suddenly self-conscious, Kit skimmed the document, getting stuck on the legal language. “It’s very official.”

  It was all there. Her raise and the huge bonus she’d earn if she stayed until the bar was completely renovated and operating. Tyler handed her a pen and she signed at the bottom. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

  He grinned. “I can think of worse things. I’ll make copies and give you one.” He glanced at the title of her book. “The Satisfied Single Woman.” He shook his head. “Are you sure you need that? It seems like you’re doing pretty good on your own.”

  “Can I add a clause to our contract? That you don’t get to comment on my choice of reading material? You should be happy that your employee is trying to better herself.”

  “I think you’re pretty good the way you are. I don’t see why you need all these so-called experts telling you how to live.”

  “Sometimes experts have good ideas. Like the idea I got when I did a little online research the other night.” She stood and reached between the desk and the wall, where she’d stored her creation. She’d stayed up until two in the morning cutting it all out, determined to show Tyler that he could find ways around his dyslexia.

  He gaped when she pulled out the wood-framed magnetic board.

  “It’s for scheduling.” She’d used permanent marker to create columns for the days of the week, and rows for the regular bar shifts. “I even left extra spaces at the bottom for special events, when you need extra people working.”

  He tipped the board up so it rested against the wall. “You made this for me?”

  She rummaged in her purse and found the plastic bag of labeled blue magnets. “Each staff member has a bunch of magnets with their name on it. When you decide who gets a shift, you just put their magnet on the board. No writing. No spelling. And since the magnets are a different color from the white board, it will be easy to see if two names end up in one space, or if you’ve left a shift blank.” Her heart pounded a little. She wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate the help. Maybe he’d feel embarrassed by her interfering.

  Tyler reached into the bag and pulled out a magnet with Lila’s name on it. He put his finger on the board under the word Friday. Ran it down until he came to the section marked 5:30. He put the magnet in the space. “Lila’s working tonight.” His voice was low and rough. He cleared his throat, and when he glanced at her, she saw a flush highlighting his cheekbones. Great. She’d embarrassed him.

  “This is perfect,” he said. “The lines are so wide, the colors help...” He swallowed hard. “Thank you for doing this for me. I can’t believe you did. Looks like it was a lot of work.”

  She wanted to keep it light for him. “I had no idea I was good at making stuff. But after building that staircase, I figured I could do this. And it was fun.”

  “It’s great. I’ll get a hammer and nails so we can hang it.”

  Then he was out the door. But not before Kit caught a glint of something bright in his eyes.

  She stared at the scheduling board, trying to take in this new side of Tyler. He showed the world his bull-riding swagger, his upbeat, charming persona. But he’d shared his difficulties reading and writing with her. And now he was emotional over a scheduling tool.

  Funny, how she thought she knew him. When she’d first seen him again, she’d pegged him as a rodeo cowboy who cashed in on his good looks. She hadn’t expected his depth. The way he’d been so patient with her rudeness. So humble in his apologies. So kind to her the other day at her dad’s house. And so genuine, just now, in his gratitude.

  Turned out she really didn’t know Tyler Ellis at all.

  Lila popped her head in. “Your co-bartender is here. Ready for some Friday night craziness.” She caught sight of the scheduling board, hard to miss in the tiny office. “What’s that?”

  “Just something I made to help us stay a little more organized.”

  Lila’s eyebrows arched suggestively. “Helping out the new boss, are you? And I notice you tried your new look today. I’m sure he noticed.”

  Kit’s cheeks went hot as she stood. “It’s not like that. He’s asked me to get this place more organized. To manage things with him.” Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to tell Lila how much money Tyler had offered her. It would take way too much explaining.

  “Well, I’m glad.” Lila set her bag down and Kit followed her out of the office to start their shift. “We need you back in charge around here.”

  “Not in charge. Just helping.”

  “Helping a lot.” That from Tyler, who was standing by the bar. Apparently he hadn’t made it to the shed. “Lila, I just met your fiancé.”

  Ethan raised his pint. “Hey, Kit. You look great. And I like your new boss.”

  “He’s okay.” Kit gave Tyler a wink.

  “She doesn’t really think that.” The usual Tyler was back, the cocky smile cutting a dimple into his cheek. “I do most things wrong and it makes her crazy.”

  He was baiting her and she bit, glad to return to their familiar sparring after the undercurrent of emoti
on in the office. “You’re a slow learner, but your pretty face is bringing us a whole new crowd. And even if they are scantily clad and barely of age, they sure do like to buy expensive drinks. How can I complain?”

  Lila fanned herself with her hand. “It’s getting hot in here.” She turned to Ethan. “See? I told you they had chemistry.”

  “Lila, you’re embarrassing them.” Ethan pulled her close and kissed her red hair. “Please excuse my fiancée here. She’s so crazy about me she’s started seeing things.”

  “Hallucinating, for sure.” Kit glared at Lila, who raised her eyebrows in mock innocence.

  “I’m gonna get that hammer now.”

  They watched Tyler walk out. Kit turned on Lila. “Please don’t say stuff like that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lila said, not looking very apologetic. “It just came out. The sparks between you two got me all confused.”

  “There are no sparks. It’s familiarity. We were always around each other growing up.”

  “There were sparks,” Lila insisted. “And you know what else? You were smiling more, just then, than I’ve seen you smile ever since that whole Arch thing went down. So I’m glad there are sparks.”

  “Ethan, rein her in, please.”

  He shrugged. “Hate to admit it, but I saw them, too.”

  “I’m going to stock the bar. Lila, when you are done seeing things that aren’t there, maybe you can join me.”

  “Maybe,” Lila said, taking a sip from Ethan’s water glass, “I’m not the one with vision problems.” She kissed Ethan on the cheek and followed Kit behind the bar. “Maybe you, my best friend, need glasses.”

  Kit grabbed a metal bucket from the sink. “Maybe you, my best friend, need to go in the back and get us some more ice.”

  Lila giggled. “Maybe you, my best friend, are getting a little bossy.” She flounced off in mock-indignation and Kit glanced up to see that Tyler was back, chatting with Ethan. His auburn hair caught the light, and when he spied her watching him, a slow smile started. Like he was happy to see her. Happy that she was there.

  Kit grabbed the cutting board and the basket of lemons and started slicing. Why was she staring at him like that? All Lila’s and Ethan’s misguided ideas were getting in her head. Tyler liked cute blondes in cutoff shorts who leaned over the bar to show him their cleavage. She liked guys in black leather jackets and three-day stubble. Clean-cut, jeans-modeling cowboy Tyler Ellis was not her type, and she definitely wasn’t his.

  * * *

  TYLER SET THE last box of empty bottles outside the storeroom door, ready for recycling. He glanced at his watch. It was 2:00 a.m. Officially Saturday morning.

  “Tyler?” Kit called from the bar. “Everyone is gone. I think I’ll head home.”

  He was still buzzing from the bustle of the Friday-night crowd. And truth was he didn’t feel ready to say goodbye to Kit. Working with her was fun. He’d gotten used to catching her eye when it got insanely busy. Teasing each other as they passed. Maybe it was their old friendship rekindling, but she was quickly becoming his favorite person to work with. He hurried into the bar. “Want to stay for a drink? To celebrate signing our contract?”

  She’d changed her look. Her hair was more tousled now, hanging in loose black waves around her face. The kind of waves a guy wanted to run his fingers through. And her eyes. She’d ditched the heavy black liner and somehow it seemed like he could see her more. All night he’d been aware of their deep brown color and her thick dark lashes, and the humor and the kindness that shone through far more clearly without the distraction of her intense makeup. Now there were slight shadows under them, like she was tired after their busy night. But she said, “Sure, a drink would be good,” and set her purse on the bar.

  “What’ll you have?” he asked.

  “A cosmopolitan,” she teased, climbing onto a stool.

  “And would that be extra pink? Or extra fruity?”

  “Extra vodka. And hold the pink and the fruity.” She grinned. “Oh, and can you add some tonic? You get it from that little gun thing over there.”

  “I figured that out a while ago. With help from a certain someone.” He slid the vodka and tonic across the bar and she caught it. He poured a shot of bourbon over ice and went to sit beside her. He raised his glass toward her. “To my bartending guru.” It was a joke, but he truly was grateful for the way she’d trained him.

  She lifted her glass in response. “You’d be fine without me,” she assured him. “Now that half your customers are young women, it doesn’t matter how your drinks taste. They just want to flirt.”

  “It matters to me,” he said. “I want to be known as the best bar in town. The best cocktails, with quality ingredients. The best beer, the most interesting selection. Think we can do it?”

  Kit looked thoughtful. Then amused. “I think most of your staff doesn’t know too much about making cocktails.”

  “How do you know how to make them?”

  “I used to have a lot of parties. Just for my close friends. They let me try out recipes on them.”

  Inspiration struck. “Would you want to come up with a cocktail menu for this place? We could offer a few specials each month. You could teach the staff how to make them. They’d become better bartenders, and I bet some of the customers would get a kick out of it.”

  “That’s a really good idea, actually.”

  He couldn’t help tease her a little. “See? Change can be fun, right?”

  “Some of it, I guess.” Her smile was more delicate without the bold lipstick she usually wore.

  “We make a good team.” He thought of the scheduling board she’d made him, and how much she’d taught him already. “Though I think right now I’m the one benefiting most from our teamwork.”

  “Nah. I am, too.” She rubbed her thumb against her first two fingers. “Money.” Then she burst out laughing, as if unable to keep up the mercenary facade. “Seriously, it’s fun to work with you. It kind of reminds me of old times. Cleaning stalls together, weeding the garden.” She paused, regarding him. “Come to think of it, you got me to do a lot of your chores with you. You Tom Sawyered me, didn’t you?”

  “What?” He knew she was being funny, but he didn’t totally get the reference.

  “You know, that book by Mark Twain? Tom Sawyer is a kid who has to paint a fence, but he makes it seem so fun that all the other kids want to do it, too. And they end up painting it for him.”

  He laughed. “I never got through any of the books in high school. But it’s true, I did get you to do a bunch of my chores with me. It made them a whole lot more fun. It’s still kind of like that.”

  “It kind of is.” She smiled slightly and took a sip of her drink. “You know what I keep thinking about? The night we went out after the Benson Spring Fling.”

  He laughed outright at the memory. “The great golf cart crash?”

  She giggled. “Yes. I got you to jump over the fence of that fancy community near Mammoth.”

  “And we stole that golf cart and your driving was so bad, we crashed into a hedge. I thought I was a goner, but I couldn’t stop laughing, either.”

  She wagged an admonishing finger. “Then you decided we should use their hot tub.”

  His skin heated at the memory. “Hey, I was a sixteen-year-old boy. The idea of you in all that warm water was my adolescent dream come true.”

  “And it just about worked out for you, until that security guard showed up. And called the sheriff.” Kit sobered and she looked like she suddenly saw him in a different light. “Even though the whole thing was my idea, you took the blame. You told the sheriff you talked me into it. That I didn’t really want to do it. You got them to drop me off at home before they took you to the sheriff’s office.”

  He swirled the bourbon around the ice in his glass, reme
mbering.

  “You stood up for me,” she said softly. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that. Why did you?”

  He looked at her. “You were my girl.”

  “What?” She squinted at him, as if trying to decide whether he was messing with her. “We were friends.”

  He laughed. “No, you were friends with me. By then, I was head over heels for you. You were my girl, you just didn’t know it.” His heart thudded against his ribs, but there was a certain freedom putting that out on the table. Because it was a long time ago, and she didn’t know how close he was to feeling that way again.

  Kit stared. “You never said.”

  “I kissed you in that sheriff’s car. That must have told you something.”

  “Yes, you did.” Her pink lips curved into a slow smile. “And it was a great kiss.”

  “It was.” He remembered it perfectly. Sweet, totally sexy and filled with all his years of yearning for her.

  “Well, it was nice of you to protect me like that.” She gave a wry smile. “I got to know the sheriff pretty well later on, but it was nice not to have to chat with him about my wrongdoings at quite such a young age.”

  He let that reference slide, though he guessed she was referring to when she’d dated Arch, the local criminal. “It made sense for me to take the blame. My dad had already pretty much written me off as an idiot since I didn’t do well in school. Your dad was my rodeo hero. My coach. No way was I going to let his daughter end the night in the sheriff’s office. He was furious at me after, even though you were never cited. I did extra chores for months just to get back on his good side.”

  “Well, I appreciate it. Especially looking back at it now. It was generous.”

  His laugh was tinged with old bitterness. “Yeah, well, my sacrifice was for nothing. I never got a repeat of that kiss. I was no match for Arch.”

  “He was one of a kind, that’s for sure.” Kit stood. “Want me to refresh your drink?”

  He slid his bourbon her way. But he wouldn’t let her change the subject. Because Arch had changed everything. And the fight they’d had about him still hung like a ghost between them. “Were you guys together a long time after I left town?”