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“Nothing.” He strode like it was totally nothing—false. Kyle noted the stomp even as Todd tried to tame it.
“Momma?”
“No.” He sat at his desk, a mighty sigh coming from his mouth. “It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Laura?” Kyle tried next, desperately praying it wouldn’t be Laura. She’d come back to the ranch almost a month ago now, and she and Todd were about the cutest couple in the world. A little nauseating sometimes, but Kyle only thought that when he wasn’t with Maddy. Otherwise, he had no problem with Todd’s behavior with Laura.
His older brother looked up and silenced his next guess with a single, withering look. “No. Now get out of here. This isn’t your office.”
“I need an office,” Kyle said.
“You have the whole cabin,” Todd said. “Lord knows I’m never there.” He grumbled the last part, and Kyle decided he’d have to get the story out of a less-angry Todd later.
“I can’t work there,” he said anyway. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be over in the staging area.”
Todd said nothing, and Kyle left the office. He hadn’t been rushing to saddle a horse and go round up cattle, but any number of problems could arise on a ranch this size. Not only that, but they ran a real, operational cattle ranch and a commercial dude ranch. Todd, Sierra, Blake, Nash, Holly, and Becks—all Stewarts—held administrative roles to do so, and Adam, Jesse, Kyle and a whole slew of other cowboys and cowgirls, chefs, teachers, and volunteers worked at the ranch too.
Really, anything could’ve upset Todd. Kyle lived with him, and despite what he’d said, Todd would be home after dinner that night. Kyle would be too, as he didn’t have any plans with Maddy. To his knowledge, she didn’t teach an art class on Tuesday, but Wednesday evening was couples’ night.
He got behind the wheel of his truck and trundled over gravel lots and dirt roads to the huge stage that stayed up all summer. They took it down and reassembled it in the slower, off-season months, because he only set up one concert a month during those times.
A large white barn had been converted into the staging building, and it had public restrooms on both ends of it, with private quarters in the middle two-thirds. Kyle had sketched out and designed a three-bedroom house, in essence, each bedroom with a private en-suite bathroom. A kitchenette took up one corner of the large multi-purpose room, and Kyle had served food and drinks to the many bands who’d come through the Longhorn Ranch over the past five years.
The band stayed in the barn too, and Kyle alone cleaned it between concerts in the summer. He’d done a lot of the work yesterday, but guitarists and lead singers weren’t known for their cleanliness, and he still had plenty to do.
He parked around the back of the barn, so anyone passing by wouldn’t be able to see his truck. No one just “passed by” the staging barn anyway. It sat out on the edge of a big parking lot, the huge, hulking stage in front of it. That way, the band members could literally walk out from where they were staying, up the steps to the stage, and perform.
On concert days, huge white tents got put up too, and the dark drapes that created barriers for the band so any errant fans wouldn’t somehow end up where they shouldn’t be.
Todd’s shoulders ached from his bed-stripping yesterday, as well as all the scrubbing in one of the bathrooms. He’d never seen so much blue stuff in a tub, and he still didn’t know what it was. He glanced at his hand and found a hint of the azure still under his nails, and displeasure pulled down his eyebrows.
It’s fine, he told himself. He’d rather be active than sitting on the computer, sending emails. He had to do a lot of that too. Someone had to wine and dine the agents and music executives to get the talent here. That someone was Kyle, and he spent an exorbent amount of time on the phone and computer.
Not today, though. He was determined to get the staging barn in tiptop shape, so he could focus on meeting this weekend’s band’s needs. Star City was coming, and they were a family band. They’d fill the staging barn, as well as two cabins on the property, and Kyle was tasked with making sure they had everything they need to be at their best once nine o’clock on Saturday night hit.
He glanced to the storage shed in front of him as he got out of the truck, suddenly remembering he had to fix one of the golf carts that had gone belly-up last weekend. Most guests walked from the lodge to the stage for the concert, but for their clients who needed accessibility help, the ranch owned six golf carts that ran before and after the concert to get people back and forth.
Right now, only five ran, and while Kyle was no mechanic, he’d been able to turn up the carts in the past. Hopefully, he could again.
He’d completely cleaned two of the bedrooms and bathrooms yesterday, and his first stop today was the laundry facilities. He folded all the towels and sheets he’d washed and dried yesterday, put in another load, and got busy remaking beds.
One step inside the third bedroom had him freezing and his breath leaking from his body as if someone had punctured his lung. “What in the world?”
The Cliffton’s had brought their son and his kids with him—and all the Cheerios in the world currently lay on the carpet in this bedroom. “Why wouldn’t they pick this up?” Kyle honestly couldn’t even imagine leaving a room like this.
If he ever made it big as a country music star, he vowed he would never, ever make someone else clean up crushed Cheerios and sippy cups full of three-day-old milk. Ever. He retreated from the bedroom and got a pair of blue cleaning gloves. With those on, he attacked.
He scrubbed, vacuumed, purified, and switched laundry until the place was put back together. By the time he finished, he’d missed lunch—and four phone calls.
With Holly’s help, he’d decorated the barn, so it had a massive sectional couch in it, the fabric a cool gray—and washable and liquid-resistant. He sank onto it and swiped up on his phone to see who’d called him.
Maddy had, once.
His breath caught on the other name, who was responsible for the other three calls.
“Jolene,” he said. His pulse raced, and he couldn’t get a full breath. Had she met with her team today? She hadn’t said when the meeting was, and Kyle told himself over and over not to get excited.
The adrenaline in his body had already achieved excited, and it was headed toward euphoria.
