Page 32 of Lucky Cowboy

“Mitz, can you run to a store somewhere and grab me some stationery and envelopes?”

Mitzi was in the process of walking out the door. “And stamps. Yep. I’m on it.”

Stamps. That was right. People used to have to go to so much more trouble to communicate across long distances. It touched her heart that not only Mark had been seeking advice about what to do about missing her, but that he’d intentionally followed through, too. It was better than receiving a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates. This was so much more personal. Caring. Loving.

She loved him.

The ramifications of understanding that hit her like a bolt of lightning. She was in love with Sheriff Mark Talbot. It wasn’t even feasible, falling for him. Yet that was what had occurred. They might not have tallied up much time side by side, but the amount of time they’d spent on the phone, on Zoom calls, on texts… It added up.

And she wanted more of it with him. Even if it came in these little rectangles of paper.

As soon as Mitzi returned to her with the supplies in tow, Val situated herself at her vanity and set about writing her letter. It needed to be fantastic. Monumental. Something memorable that shared her thoughts and feelings like he had.

Yet, for some reason, as soon as she pressed the tip of her new pen to the stationery—the pen was golden glitter, and the stationery was dark and covered in tulips since her bestie knew her so well—Val froze. She felt as if she knew Mark better than anyone else but didn’t know what to say that seemed good enough.

Important enough.

Stymied, she tried again. And once more. Nothing came to her. So she looked through his one more time. It was so beautiful. Thoughtful. Sweet. She sniffed it for the dozenth time and welcomed the sensation of familiarity it gave her, transporting her back to the hospital when he dad had been in surgery and Mark had wrapped his arm around her. What the periwinkle of his irises had looked like that first night she met him.

Even when she’d been an absolute stranger to him, he’d proven to be her defender. Her protector. Her caregiver. And just like that, she knew what to write.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

For the firsttime in recent memory, Mark had been eager to check his mailbox. It was an odd sensation prying open that narrow domed hatch and retrieving what was inside with so much anticipation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d opened it and received anything but junk mail or bills. Yet now he’d been checking it religiously for three straight days.

And here it was. Val’s letter.

He let his fingertips travel over the indents of where her hand had pushed the tip of the pen against the envelope reveling in the feel of it. Those loopy cursive ridges. It made sense that her handwriting would be as bold and larger than life as she was.

Reverently, Mark slit it open and tugged the dark purple paper from its holder. Each of her words settled over him like the ripples of a stone entering a pond. She said some of the things he’d expected, but some of the subject matter astonished him.

Like him, she hadn’t mentioned the day-to-day stuff they typically discussed during a call. Instead, she opened up to him. Everything that had poured out of her had been personal and private. And deeply moving.

I want you to know how much I appreciate those hours when you stayed with me while Dad was undergoing those terrifying surgical procedures. I meant so much to me that you were there, and looking back, if I’d been all by my lonesome sitting in that waiting room, I might’ve lost my ever-loving mind. I didn’t because you were there to keep me together. You kept me from falling apart, Mark. So thank you.

She’d already thanked him for that, but seeing it written out like this was somehow more intense. More powerful.

There are so many moments in every single day that I wish you were next to me. Small things. Like finding a great burger joint while out on the road. One time in Missouri, we stopped at a truck stop. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just a roadside truck stop like you’d find anywhere.

Yet this place served the best cheeseburger I’ve ever eaten. To this day, no one has beaten them for taste, not even the nicer, higher end family restaurants I’ve been to. How crazy is that?

He pictured it. Pictured her waxing poetic about a cheeseburger in the middle of nowhere Missouri surrounded by big, burly trucker guys. It made for a comical image. He wondered what they’d thought of her, Valentine Bernard in her glitzy attire, flashy makeup, and pretty white and gold cowboy hat going right to town on her burger. Probably at a table that was sticky from the last people who inhabited it.

Now, he wanted to take her out to The Steer House. They might be famous for their steaks, but he preferred their bacon cheeseburger. He wondered what she’d think of the place. And they never had sticky tables.

That same old yearning for her to be here with him ping-ponged across his brain and throughout his entire system. Yet it didn’t twinge quite as acutely as it had been. He knew he wasn’t any closer to her physically, but somehow it felt like he was closer to her anyway. He didn’t know how to describe it.

His mom had been right. Letters were definitely the way to go. He didn’t know if he’d admit that to his mother right away, though. Then, she might start giving him more unsolicited relationship advice.

Then again, if it would be this successful, maybe he should just shut up and take it.

While getting ready for work that morning, he slipped Val’s letter into his back pocket and anytime something would remind him of her, he’d pull it out and read it again. He had it memorized word for word now, but it didn’t matter. Having it with him all the time brought him comfort. He could hold that sheaf of stationery and see it as a representation and reminder of her. That she existed. That she cared.

Mark: I loved your letter. I’ve kept it with me all day today. Also, I’m writing you another one.

Val: Ooh, I can’t wait. I’ve got yours taped to my vanity mirror so I can see anytime I’m sitting there, which is a lot.

Mark: Lol. I can imagine that.

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