Page 3 of Lucky Cowboy

For the first time the sheriff brought his gaze up to meet hers. All she could think of was the periwinkle blossoms from the flower garden stationed in front of her childhood home back when her mama had still been alive. She’d seen the same shade on flowers filling prairies and even dotting some highways she travelled, too. A blue with the slightest tinge of violet. More importantly, those eyes of his struck her as sharp, observant, and kind.

“I have a contract,” Biggs spouted, but now that a real challenge to his authority had shown up, his protest sounded much weaker to her ears.

“May I see it?” the sheriff asked.

“Why?” Biggs tugged the papers away as if to hide them.

“To confirm what you’re saying.” The sheriff paused, and when Biggs refused to offer over the paperwork, pursed his full lips. “Although it’s clear to me that the lady is disputing your claim?—”

“But she’s just a?—”

The sheriff frowned at the interruption and cut Biggs off, raising his voice just enough to make his point. “And that alone is enough for me to remove you from these premises.”

Biggs threw a hissy fit. “You have no right to do that.”

“I have every right.”

The sheriff’s voice made Val feel safe. She was so thankful to him, especially when Biggs shut up and took a step back. Burying the contract back in his pocket he stood there with his arms crossed, but he was diminished in the sheriff’s imposing presence.

“Reese, escort this man off the property. If he gives you one wit of trouble, let me know, and I’ll arrest him.”

When Reese tried to take Biggs’ elbow, he snatched it out of his grasp and stormed away.

Another influx of gratitude flooded her, but as Sheriff Mark Talbot laid those eyes on her again, she stiffened.

“May I get your name? I’d like to have it on record in case he causes a stir again.”

“Valentine Bernard.”

“Valentine…” Her name on his tongue rolled off it like melted butter. “That’s pretty.”

“I don’t use it much,” she admitted. “Only when I’m performing. My family and friends call me Val.”

“Val,” he said, and she had to repress another shiver. “It suits you.”

But as if her conscience—or her memory—had smacked her in the face, she braced herself. The last thing she needed was another man to deal with. She already had to handle her worries about her dad’s health and Biggs showing up out of the blue. So that was it. Val swore to herself that she wouldn’t go downanyromantic road again.

She meant it, too, no matter how pretty the sheriff’s gaze might be.

“Good evening, Sheriff Talbot,” she spoke his name, intending it as a dismissal. He seemed to take the hint, even if his tone kept that buttery quality.

“Good evening, Ms. Bernard.”

CHAPTERTHREE

Only after Valentine Bernardshut her trailer door with a final thunk did Mark back away. He did a slow about-face, purveying the pearly stone path that outlined the row of trailers beyond hers. Shadows crept from every nook and cranny, and Mark suspected that had Reese not escorted the troublemaker away, he might’ve tried to hide in one.

The man had been lying—Mark had a finely tuned nose for such things—and immediately, Mark hopped on his radio and confirmed that young Reese had completed his task without a problem. Then, he thanked him. Reese might be a bearded kid just out of high school who looked a lot older than he was, but he did a solid job working the security gig out here at the fairgrounds.

Once back in his cruiser, a search through official channels brought him an image of the one who’d caused the ruckus here tonight, a man identified as Ulysses Anthony Biggs. While Mr. Biggs had no priors, the guy gave off big-time creep vibes, making Mark wonder what his personal and even professional relationships might look like.

He could be wrong, of course, but his gut told him the guy was every bit the piece of work Mark suspected him to be. Mark couldn’t count the number of times he’d witnessed that frightened nervousness in a woman’s eyes, a nervousness he’d just noticed in Val’s.

As a member of law enforcement, Mark had been involved in too many domestic dispute cases to shake a spoon at. But one thing he knew for sure was if a woman displayed the same level of panic that he’d caught sight of with Val, the man she’d accused should be required to keep his distance.

At the very least.

Technically, since Biggs had used whatever remained of his common sense and vacated the rodeo, Mark couldn’t arrest him unless he did something else suspect. But that didn’t mean he didn’t send the man’s face to his department and to Rusty’s, one town over. Rusty Shackleton, the sheriff from the next town ten miles down the road in Farmington, also happened to be his best friend.

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