Page 30 of Lucky Cowboy

“Paper?” Blair pretended to look baffled. “Never heard of it. Must be from the Dark Ages.”

Mark rolled his eyes at her, another throwback to his own days long gone by. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d rolled his eyes at his sister. Maybe whenhe’dbeen a teenager.

Seemed their mother’s nostalgia was bringing out theirs, as well.

“What are you saying, Mom?” he asked. What was the point of this? “I should write Val letters?”

“Yes. I think you should. Is it as good as spending time in each other’s company? No. But is it an upgrade over all this cold technology?” She indicated his and Blair’s cellphones, both of which had been left on the table by their plates. “Absolutely.

“There’s something about the tactile feel of a piece of paper or stationery you know someone you care about has taken the time to handwrite their thoughts and feelings on. It’s a different manner of getting to know someone that has largely been lost in today’s society. But I highly recommend it.”

Mark’s inherent skepticism reared its head big time. As a sheriff, he was about proof, evidence, witnesses, and facts. And frankly, he didn’t see how communicating via snail mail would provide any benefit. It took longer and cost the money of pressing a stamp on the corner, too. Not that he couldn’t continue to call and text Val. He just doubted this would help them keep whatever affection they had for each other kindled.

But what other options did he have?

Stopping by the Sip ‘N Shop on his way home, he located a spiral notebook like students still used. The main thing was that it had those tiny perforations along the side that would allow him to rip the paper out with having all those messy, tangled edges. He had enough messes and tangles in his life already.

Then, there was the matter of the pen. Did he go with a regular black ink pen or get something with more flare? Blue ink seemed almost as standard as black, while red seemed like overkill. What would Val think of receiving a letter from in written in red ink? Wouldn’t that be over the top?

He stuck with the blue.

Mark wished he had the talent to draw her a little picture or something, but that had never been a skill he’d been able to hone. In school, he’d been decent at math even if he hadn’t had much interest. His true love had been riding horses—a hobby he’d let go of when his dad died—and as a law enforcement officer, keeping order.

Once back in his vehicle, he scratched at the spot under the brim of his hat where it laid on his forehead. Had his life really become that dull?

Well, no. Not when it came to maintaining the safety of his community. But who was he kidding? How often did a small town like Rocky Ridge have huge and adrenaline filled events like ninety mile an hour car chases or fifty vehicle pileups? That was a good thing, of course. Something he was immensely grateful for. As a sheriff, quiet and boring was the dream.

What about his other dreams, though?

Mark thought back to when he’d been that calf roping teenage boy, participating in rodeos not only because he could do the task and do it well, but because it’d been fun. Enjoyable. His current job required so much time and seriousness that he rarely had fun. He didn’t let himself have fun. He had more important priorities.

What Val did for a living was fun for her. Despite all the complications of previously being involved with the wrong man, he knew she had a fabulous time when out there in that stadium on Maybelline. He could see it in the light in those amber eyes of hers when she talked about it. He could hear the pure elation in her voice when she nailed a particularly difficult stunt or when she’d been honored with yet another award to add to her collection.

That was the difference between him and Val. She was living her dream while he was living his responsibilities.

Not that he minded. Honestly, he didn’t. He was doing the right thing and gained a lot of satisfaction in that knowledge. Mark knew his dad could see him, that he would approve of how he’d stepped up to that plate.

It was simply that sometimes, Mark felt a little hollow. Not about his work or family life. Never those. But when he came home to an empty soundless house every single time. When his kitchen remained precisely how he left it, whether with old coffee in his coffeemaker or completely pristine, because no one else was there to use it, that hollowness reared its nasty head.

Sure, that meant less cleanup, but what would it have been like to enter his front door and smell Val’s rain-like perfume? Or to step into his shower stall and see her bottles of hair care products? To see her lotions and things on his vanity rather than nothing but his plain white terrycloth towels? To know that even if she’d gone temporarily away, she’d be back?

Would that ever happen?

When he’d met Val—despite the negative circumstances surrounding it—she’d blazed across his night sky like a comet. He’d been in this rut for years, and while he mostly liked that rut, he had this hole in his life. Even with this thing being long distance, Val had started to fill it. Filled his heart and warmed his spirit.

With that in mind, Mark set his pen to the paper and began.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Val had sufferedfrom bouts of insomnia before, but usually they’d been caused by worry. Worry about her dad’s health. Worry about Biggs having too much control over her life. That sort of thing. Now, though, she’d had two nearly sleepless nights because of her relationship with Mark. She had to find a way to see him, even felt desperate over it.

Yet, so far, she’d been blocked every time.

Worse, this lack of slumber had been affecting her ability to perform. Doing an act that was so inherently physical required not only a healthy body but a well-rested one, and Val’s body was anything but. By her third night in a row of performances, she felt both run ragged and run down.

Val had loved trick riding since she’d been small. She’d loved it no matter what had been going on in her life—even while with Biggs—but now, the pure glee of being on her mare’s back and landing every stunt, even the most difficult ones, were falling flat.

It became bad enough tonight that she narrowly missed landing at a wrong angle which could’ve resulted in a serious injury. Thank goodness she wasn’t scheduled for anything tomorrow or she would’ve had to cancel for safety reasons.

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