Claire McEwen - His Last Rodeo

Lila grinned. “I didn’t realize it was at the seniors’ center when I signed us up.”

Kit laughed. Which felt good. Seeing Arch drive away left tire marks of regret in her muddy heart. “I’m scarred for life. Images of the seniors getting funky are burned on my brain.”

“You laughed so hard after that class. It was better than therapy. Maybe we need to go back. I think their spring session should start any day now.”

“No!” Kit didn’t know what would help her get out of this black hole of jealousy and loss, but she was sure the cure wasn’t pole dancing. She just had to keep reading and keep trying. She’d been working on not loving Arch for almost half her life—she had to be successful eventually.

She’d almost managed to unlove him. During the decade after he’d walked away from their four-year relationship, she’d done okay. She’d learned to live without him, had some fun, even had a few boyfriends. All in all, she’d done pretty well, until he showed up again.

The moment she’d seen him, all her old feelings had flooded back, almost as if he’d never left. And they wouldn’t go away again.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

Meanwhile, Arch had fallen in love and moved to San Francisco, and she still didn’t feel free of him. Somehow Arch’s success as an artist, his happy relationship with Mandy, had made Kit realize how stuck she’d become: living in Benson, looking after her dad, working at a bar. She was thirty-two years old but still living the way she had throughout most of her twenties. It was a depressing thought.

Lila glanced at her phone. “You’ve got to get to work. Are you okay? Do you want me to take your shift for you?”

Kit shook her head. The last thing she needed was to sit at home and think about Arch. “Work will be good for me. Plus, a shipment was delivered this afternoon and I told Chris I’d check it in.”

“I hope Chris is paying you a lot more than he pays me. You’re practically running the bar for him.”

“I’m glad he gives me a lot of responsibility.” Kit took a breath, suddenly ready to say aloud what she’d kept to herself until now. “I’ve learned a lot and I’ve saved some money. When he retires, I think I want to buy the place.”

“Really?” Lila’s green eyes were wide. “That’s...that’s great.” The false enthusiasm in her voice rang too loud in the quiet afternoon.

“What’s wrong? You don’t think I can do it?”

“No.” Lila put her hand on Kit’s arm. “No, of course that’s not it. You’re great at running the bar. It’s just...you love reading those travel books and you’ve been taking those online Spanish classes. I just thought you’d—” The pale skin of her cheeks stained pink. “That’s what you want? To stay in Benson and own the Dusty Saddle? I just didn’t realize.”

Kit inhaled the chill of the early spring evening, hoping it would clear the Arch-induced melancholy from her heart. “What I want is to travel. To move to Spain or South America or someplace where I will never have to see or hear about Arch Hoffman again. But I don’t get to do that. I have to look after Dad. So owning the Saddle is a pretty good plan B.”

“Are you sure you can’t fix things for your dad? Did you ever go talk with that ex-boss of his?”

“Mr. Ellis.” The evil rancher. “Yes, he finally agreed to meet with me last week. But it didn’t help much. He showed me all these papers. Said my dad borrowed money against his pension years ago and never paid it back. So he’s only entitled to a hundred dollars a month.”

“What about Social Security?”

“It helps a little. But not enough. Even if it did, even if I could travel, Dad’s depressed. He’s lost without his work. I swear if I didn’t stop by his house every day, he’d never get out of bed.”

“I’m sorry.” Lila’s eyes were wide with sympathy. She understood hard times—had seen plenty of her own. “Well, it is a good plan B. I can see you owning the bar, and you’re certainly a great manager. Almost no one complains ever since you took over the scheduling from Chris.”

“Almost no one?” Kit teased.

“Well, Tim and I were grousing last week because neither of us wanted to work a Monday. No tips.”

“Everyone has to work a Monday sometimes. I’m doing it tonight.”

Lila grinned. “We know. It’s just fun to complain. But don’t worry. Even if we give you a hard time, we still love you.”

Kit was suddenly self-conscious. “Well, it might not happen anyway. Who knows if I can save enough? Or if Chris will want to sell it? Or if the bank will give me a loan to do it?”

“It will work out,” Lila assured her. “But are you certain you don’t want me to take your shift tonight?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Kit raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you want to go home? Did you and Ethan have a fight?”

Lila sighed. “No. It’s the opposite, actually. Ever since we moved in together I’ve become so...I don’t know...attached. He has his veterans’ support group tonight and if I’m sitting at home, I’ll miss him. And then I’ll feel like a lame, dependent girlfriend. I don’t want that.”

“You mean fiancée,” Kit corrected. “And it’s good that you miss him. It means you like him a lot. Which is great, since you’re marrying him.”

Lila grinned, just like she did every time Kit mentioned Ethan or marriage. “I guess you’re right. It’s just a little weird.”

“You’re not used to being in love yet. You’re still getting used to feeling safe and settled.” Kit gave Lila a light kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you so happy. Go cook him a meal or something wifely like that. Or work on your photographs—the show is only a couple months away.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m so nervous. Which is why I’m probably going to cook. Procrastination is my solace.”

“Your photos are gorgeous.” Lila took photos of ordinary life around Benson. But somehow she made a simple piece of sagebrush look like a feather, or a high mountain ridge look like it was molded from glistening silver. “Trust me. Every tourist in Mammoth is going to buy one when they walk into that gallery.”

“I hope so.” Lila glanced at the stack of books in Kit’s arms. “Want me to take those for you?” She tucked her own book under her arm and held out her hands. “You can stop by tomorrow to pick them up.”

Kit didn’t comment on Lila’s change of subject. She was private—probably uncomfortable even admitting she was nervous. “No, thanks. It’s Monday night. The bar will be empty, just like you said. If I get my work finished, I might have time to read.”

“Call me if you get bored with your self-help. We can chat.”

“Will do,” Kit promised.

They started down the steps. Lila’s white Jeep was parked behind Kit’s red one. When they’d first met, they’d bonded over their almost-identical cars.

Kit shot one last glance at the stoplight, then shook her head. Lila was right. It had been over a year since Arch had gotten out of jail. Over a year since he’d told her he loved another woman. Kit had to move on.

Maybe she’d find the magical words she was looking for in these books. Some insight that would end this endless heartache. But she was getting the feeling that the words she needed to hear hadn’t been written yet.

Or maybe there was no cure for a love like hers. Sometimes she wondered if she’d missed Arch so much, for so long, that missing him had become another part of her. An extra limb she’d grown, like an obsolete tail, crafted from layers of her own stupidity, slowing her down as it dragged along the ground.

Kit climbed into her Jeep and dumped the books on the passenger seat. It was a short drive to the Dusty Saddle. She rolled down her windows, hoping that the rain-tossed breeze would blow some sense of hope in along with it. A promise of something new to help her get over this musty old heartache.