Page 22 of Lucky Cowboy
That might be a bizarre thing to think, he knew, but it didn’t hit him that way. Her father was having his second surgery that week, and the result of that remained unclear. Maybe she’d only brought up such a charged topic to distract herself from worrying.
Yet somehow, Mark didn’t think so.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
All he and Val did was perch there together over the subsequent hour. It passed far more rapidly than he would’ve thought, but it wasn’t at all awkward. Not between them. There was something about her, even under these high-pressure circumstances, that seemed to mesh with him without effort. And if he was helping her by being here, if this was all he would ever be able to offer her long-term, he’d take it and appreciate the opportunity.
With every intake of breath, he detected her rain-like perfume. Or maybe it was her shampoo or bodywash. Whatever it was, he loved inhaling it. Only after sitting there like two lumps on a log for an amount of time that became limitless did they twist toward each other.
They did it at the same moment, as if the motion had been synchronized. When her amber gaze linked onto his, suddenly he didn’t want to look away. In fact, he didn’t think he could, not even if he’d wanted to.
No one else remained in the waiting area. It grew suddenly quiet. They were alone despite this being a public place. Not only in this room but seemingly in all the world.
As they continued their intense eye contact, the space around them became electrified. He said nothing, afraid to move even by a millimeter as she closed her eyes and ever so slowly leaned toward him. It might’ve seemed far more inappropriate if Mark hadn’t been so enveloped in Val. But it was like being sealed within a sensory deprivation tank. The only thing he could see, hear, feel, taste, or touch was her.
The distance between their faces was reducing, and they were within an inch of their lips meeting when a disembodied female voice from what might’ve been another universe ripped them apart.
“Ms. Bernard?”
Mark rocketed backward, stunned. It was like being dunked into an icy cold lake in January. That had happened to him once as a kid. He’d been skating—playing hockey with some friends—and lucky for him, he’d been close enough to the shore that the water had only gone up to his knees.
A nurse had appeared. Where’d she come from?
“Ms. Bernard?” she repeated, and Mark absorbed how Val’s eyes widened as she registered that the nurse was real.
“Yes?”
“Your father’s out of surgery.”
“Is he all right?”
“He is. He’s in the recovery room. You’ll be able to go see him in about an hour. Would you like me to come and get you then?”
“Please.”
The nurse left, but the moment between Mark and Val had broken. In fact, Mark wondered if it’d even happened the way he remembered it. Had it been some deranged fantasy of his? Or if it hadn’t been, might it have simply been a way for Val to keep her mind focused on something other than how her father’s life was at risk all over again?
Even if that was what had occurred, Mark couldn’t blame her. If he was in the same position, might he not engage in something similar?
With what had transpired with his own dad, if that had been his mother or sister in there… No, he couldn’t stand to even think about it.
He scrutinized the seats around them, watching as two groups of visitors joined them.
“Do you need something?,” Mark asked her. “There’s a cafe on the first floor. They have coffee.”
She peered at his chest rather than meet his gaze. How had he missed those smudges of gray beneath her eyes? She looked exhausted as she replied, “A coffee would be great.”
“Great,” he parroted back at her, feeling like an imbecile. “A coffee. Two coffees. Strong ones. I’ll be right back.”
And with his task to complete, Mark hoofed it out of that waiting room as fast as he could.
CHAPTERTEN
Val felt soconflicted as Mark vanished around the corner that she didn’t know what to do with herself. As relieved as she felt her father had come out of yet another procedure okay, that had been an extraordinarily lousy time for an interruption. Yet, she also couldn’t help her lack of certainty once their private bubble had been burst.
Mark had seemed as into that kiss as she was.
But then why had he raced out of there like a shot? Or was she exaggerating his departure? The thing was that she couldn’t trust herself when it came to reading men. The last man she’d had in her life had shaken her faith in humanity that she still hadn’t recovered. She might never recover.
