Page 18 of Lucky Cowboy

Regardless, her midwestern upbringing had her saying, “I’ll try. Thank you.”

Releasing the death grip she had on her seatbelt, she drank the rest of her water. It made her throat fill much less cotton-like. Then, she leaned her seat back a few inches, but not enough to infringe on the room of the passenger behind her.

Staring at the tiny nozzles over her head that included a light and an air vent, she focused on them. Only after several minutes did she allow her eyes to slide closed.

Please let my dad be all right, she prayed.Please, please, please.

The plane jolting against some unidentifiable surface had Val jerking forward in her seat, and only then did she absorb that against all odds, she’d drifted to sleep. Anxiety swelling, she turned her head to the side and noticed that they were on the ground. Had they been forced to land early at another airport? They couldn’t have reached Billings already.

“Where are we?” she asked, her palms gripping each of her armrests.

“Montana,” the woman said, her business suit not even wrinkled.

“Where in Montana?”

“Billings.” The woman raised a brow. “Itisour destination.”

Val couldn’t believe she’d somehow slept at a time like this. Her mouth was again parched, and her throat hurt. Not because it was dry but because she was so frightened of the outcome of her father’s surgery. What if he didn’t make it?

She’d never forgive herself for not staying closer to home.

Val grabbed her phone to check it only to find it dead. She typically charged it overnight, but this time… Well, she hadn’t. Nor had she thought to bring her charger with her so she could plug it into the outlet next to her seat. Scowling at the endlessly dark and inoperative screen, she bustled down the aisle as soon as she’d been given permission.

Locating a rental car and navigating on her own to the hospital became a circus of missed turns and honked horns since she’d seldom been in this part of town before. Also, even when she had, she hadn’t been the one behind the wheel. With no GPS to guide her, she simply did her best from memory, going in the general direction she thought it was in.

By the time she reached the tall building, Val felt so frazzled that she might’ve fallen apart if she’d had the luxury of doing so. Since she didn’t, she pushed on, stopping first at the information desk there on the first floor.

“Can you tell me where Fred Bernard is?”

“Name, please?”

“Val. I’m his daughter.”

The lady tapped her long, painted fingernails on the computer displayed in front of her. “Ah, yes. Third floor, room 335. Your husband’s there waiting on you.”

Val blinked at the woman, only then noticing the blue woven through her curly hair. She almost questioned the term “husband” to her but caught herself in the nick of time. Mark had promised to come here in her stead. He must’ve fibbed about being her legal spouse to get access to her dad.

Unless it was someone else. Someone like Biggs. But Biggs wouldn’t do that. He didn’t know about this, had no way of knowing. She was being ridiculous.

Wasn’t she?

The minute Val stepped foot in that waiting area and laid eyes on Sheriff Mark Talbot, a man she’d literally only been with in person once, she hurried up to him. She barely registered the fact that he wasn’t in uniform as he reached out his hands to grasp onto hers. Needing the human contact, Val let him.

“Dad?”

“He’s going to be fine.”

She released a sob, unable to hold it back. “You swear?”

His lips turned upward at the edges, and his eyes, those periwinkle orbs, twinkled at her. “That’s what the surgeon told me. By the way, I might’ve bent the truth a little to get access up here.”

“I don’t care if you told them you were the Easter Bunny,” she told him, meaning it. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Dropping his hands—that contact no longer felt like enough—she next looped her arms around Mark’s middle and embraced him. Only after she did it did Val absorb how forward of her that was, but Mark didn’t seem to mind as he hugged her snugly to him. It felt lovely to be encased by him, to breathe in his leather and cotton scent, one she comprehended that she’d inhaled before. It must’ve been that night at the Rocky Ridge Rodeo.

How peculiar that it felt like coming home.

It also soothed her in a manner than nothing else had. “When can I see him?”

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