Page 43 of Lucky Cowboy

“Of course,” she peered over at him with an inquisitive expression. “Then, there’s this nice little side benefit of being here. You know, near Sweet Everything.”

Val bumped him with a hip, teasing.

“And don’t forget your second ever favorite cheeseburger.”

“True. That, too.”

Automatically, he entwined their fingers together, cautious as always since this was the arm that had been injured. Since she wore short sleeves today, he could see the distinctive scarring along her forearm, proof of what had happened to her. How he’d almost lost her.

Mark had to work hard to keep his hands from clenching in fury. Even knowing Val was right here with him and totally safe, he couldn’t help being angry at Biggs. And that was despite him being permanently out of the picture.

An investigation had uncovered that Ulysses Biggs hadn’t only ripped off Val during his time as her manager, he had a checkered past he’d been escaping, as well. He’d even scammed another woman down in South Carolina, though in this case it’d been an elderly woman.

He’d stolen that lady’s life savings after convincing her to make him her beneficiary. Then, she’d died a month later. Granted, she’d been in her late eighties, but still. The timing had been suspicious. After the certifiable malice he’d used to shoot Val in cold blood, Mark wasn’t surprised to hear Biggs had already been guilty of other instances of felonious wrongdoing.

Whatever the state of the man’s mentality, Mark couldn’t help but feel relieved that he could no longer hurt Val or anyone else.

“I love you,” he told her, gazing into her eyes so she knew he was sincere. He did this every day without fail. He’d never not do it. Not after coming so close to losing her forever. She tightened her hold on him.

“Love you, too. I love being here in Rocky Ridge. And Dad and I can always visit the property over by Billings.”

Her and Fred had chosen to rent the property where she’d grown up rather than sell it outright. So, since they still owned the property, it was theirs. Whether they’d always keep it, Mark didn’t know, but for now, this arrangement was working for them.

Even Fred seemed to have this new lease on life there at Rocky Ridge. As the second instructor, he was able to use all his years of knowledge helping his daughter with this second crop of youthful trick riders. He seemed to be having a blast.

“Keeps me young,” he’d said once when Mark had asked about it.

Mitzi, for her part, remained on as Val’s assistant in this changed capacity. She did most of the prep work with the half a dozen horses they’d since purchased, and even oversaw the other stable employees that Val had hired.

Basically, Val was building her own empire and creating the next generation of rodeo stars. Mark couldn’t be any prouder.

But there had been one specific topic that they’d been studiously avoiding. Both of them. Mark hadn’t brought it up, and he’d noticed that Val hadn’t broached the subject, either. In fact, it’d been a conspicuous fact that he kept waiting for her to ask him about, but she didn’t.

“Come here,” he tugged at her. “I have something to show you.”

Mitzi had been the one to save the day this time, something he knew she did for Val on the regular. The tack room in most stables wasn’t anything but utilitarian, full of leather saddles, related paraphernalia, and tools. Oftentimes, they were small and confined spaces that were used to work and provide storage but little else.

Val’s tack room, however, was something far better. With her dad and Mitzi, she’d designed it to not only be practical but beautiful. It held the typical tools and equipment on the walls, but any of these not in use were displayed like the works of art they were.

The tack room also had a large picture window that overlooked the training field and had been painted a pristine, eggshell white. She’d even situated a short round table in there with stools so people could be comfortable if they needed to duck in out of the weather.

Val gasped as they entered. With Mitzi’s help, Mark had strung dozens of sets of patio lights around the walls and ceiling, some with multi-colored globes and some clear to give the place a soft glow. They’d placed a nice linen tablecloth over the round tabletop along with china settings, two servings of decadent desserts—black forest brownies, of course—and hot cocoa. In the center, Mitzi had assembled a flawless bouquet of local wildflowers.

It certainly set the scene.

“What’s all this?” Val asked him, and now his intestines jittered. This date held importance, but it was also… complicated.

“Well, it just so happens that today, exactly a year ago, we met.”

She blinked several times, and he could see the gears in her head processing the dates. “You’re right.”

“Thought we might celebrate it as our anniversary. If you’re okay with that.”

“Okay with it? I think it’s a wonderful idea.” She grinned broadly, her cheeks bunching up as she rushed over to take a seat.

But Mark still felt nervous. He watched as she sat on her stool—one that had been covered in a cushion since the day before—then he approached. And dropped to one knee.

At first, Val had glanced out the window as a couple of the horses were nickering and playing outside. By the time she noticed where he was, he’d removed the little square box from his pocket and propped it open. Then, she gaped at him, her hands flying up to her mouth.

---