Shielded by the Cowboy SEAL Page 3

  Well, it has been a few months since you had sex, his libido cheerfully reminded him.

  Get used to celibacy. We have a job to do.

  He stirred the pot of stew his mom had made, glancing out the window at the darkened skies. The snow was really coming down now, blowing in the fierce wind. He hoped Betsy was doing okay. Normally he’d spend the night with her in the barn, checking on her. Maybe once he got the beauty queen settled, he’d head there.

  She sure was a beauty queen, too. Those big green eyes, perfect cheekbones and lush mouth made for kissing...

  Hearing footsteps, Coop spooned out a generous portion of stew into a bowl and set it on the kitchen table upon a hand-sewn place mat, where a spoon rested. Meg entered the kitchen, the dog on her heels. She carried a can of dog food and a monogrammed dog dish and went to the can opener on the counter.

  As the opener whirred and clicked, Sophie whined and pawed at Meg.

  “Down, Sophie,” he said mildly.

  The dog sat on her haunches, looked up at Coop and growled again. He shot the furball an amused look as he found a spoon for Meg to dish out the dog food.

  “Well, hello to you as well. Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal your chow. Mom’s stew is much better. But if you’re staying here, you will learn manners.”

  After setting the bowl of dog food on the floor, Meg slid into the seat with an appreciative sigh. “Thank you. This looks delicious.”

  As he started out of the kitchen, she blinked. “Aren’t you eating? I hate to eat alone.”

  Sighing, he fetched another bowl. Ever since his leave, he kept up with PT, but watched his calories, mindful of his weight. Two dinners tonight. But he’d work it off tomorrow.

  He joined her at the table. “It’s not filet mignon, but it’ll fill you up on a cold night, Princess.”

  She frowned. “You don’t like using my name? Why do you keep calling me ‘Princess’?”

  Cooper blinked. “You look straight out of the pictures I’ve seen of beauty queens. And I give nicknames to everyone. I do on the teams and around here.”

  “Oh? And what did they call you?”

  He considered. “Usually Coop. Farm Boy, too, because I grew up on a farm. Sometimes Beast because I get real ornery when I get hungry.”

  As they ate, she kept stealing glances at him, maybe wondering if he’d rocket off into a temper because of his beast rep. Knowing she had been abused, he hastened to add, “I may get mean, but that’s only around the guys. You’ll see.”

  “I won’t be around here long enough to find out,” she told him. “This is temporary.”

  “Doesn’t matter if it is, you’re going to need new clothing if all you packed are clothes fit for Palm Beach. Like those fancy boots you were wearing.” He shook his head. “Totally inappropriate for New England weather.”

  “Those are my eight-hundred-dollar Jimmy Choos. They’re suede,” she shot back.

  “Jimmy’s shoes? Who’s Jimmy?”

  “Jimmy Choo,” she said very slowly, as if conversing with someone with the mental capacity of a three-year-old. “He’s a famous designer.”

  He knew this, knew all about expensive shoes because an ex-girlfriend raved about them. “So you like wearing shoes with a guy’s name on them? Your Jimmy’s shoes aren’t fit for snow and slush and mud. They’re worth about ten dollars now at a yard sale.”

  “What’s a yadh?”

  “Yard.” He spoke slowly. “My accent is coming out. Happens when I get tired. Better get you to a store tomorrow to fetch you some real boots.”

  “Real boots?” Meg frowned. “What do you wear around here?”

  He stuck out his foot. “Tractor Supply. Steel toe.”

  Meg stared, a look of incredulity on her pretty face. “You expect me to wear Tractor Supply? I expect you’ll next want me in Farmer John overalls and a chambray work shirt?”

  More like out of them, wearing nothing but skin. He swallowed hard at the mental image. And a pair of red suede pumps with stiletto heels. Coop imagined her wearing those only for him with the crimson panties and bra. Hoo-yah.

  He assumed his best poker face to hide his thoughts and adjusted his jeans.

  “Jeans will do just fine. We don’t put our hired hands to work in fancy yoga pants. You’ll need something that will wash out real good after you muck out the stalls.” He cocked his head. “You did come here to work in the stables. That’s what Jarrett said.”

  “I, er, no, I...”

  Laughing, he waved a hand. “I’m teasing.”

  “Thanks,” she said through gritted teeth. “Not. Lacey didn’t tell me you were such fine entertainment.”

  He sat back, enjoying the glare. Made her eyes all sparkle like Fourth of July. “Got you to stop thinking about it.”

  “Thinking about what?” Meg dug into her stew and ate a spoonful.

  All seriousness now, he glanced down at her dog. “What you’re running from.”

  She didn’t look at him. “I didn’t pack much. There was no time, and I couldn’t risk my ex-husband seeing my warm clothing gone. He’d guess that I fled north.”

  Wise move. “I’d have done the same. Tomorrow we’ll go into town, get you dressed for this weather.”

  A faint pink flushed her cheeks. “I’ll be okay with what I have. I can’t afford to pay for it right now...”

  Knowing how that admission must have dented her pride, he softened his voice. “No worries. Part of SOS’s services. Jarrett will foot the bill.”

  The dog gulped down her food and finished, then sat by Meg’s side, growling at him. Cooper pointed his soup spoon at Sophie.

  “Hey, watch it, mutt, or you won’t get dessert.”

  Meg’s mouth curled into the first real smile he’d seen from her. She was so pretty, her mouth all rosebud red, her cheeks flushed.

  “Sophie is not a mutt. She is a purebred shih tzu.”

  “A shih-what?”

  “Shih tzu.”

  “Sounds like something I suffered downrange in Iraq that the medic had to treat with antibiotics,” he muttered.

  Coop stared in frank bewilderment at the growling mop of fur. Any temporary bond created when he’d rescued the dog had been broken, as evidenced by the bared fangs.

  “Sure has a sharp set of teeth for such a little thing.”

  Guilt flashed across Meg’s face. “She’s very protective and loyal. Unfortunately, she hates men.”

  “Selective,” he murmured. “Or did she learn from her owner?”

  Her big green eyes narrowed in apparent anger. “She learned it from my ex-husband, who tried to starve her to make her mean.”

  Coop looked at the dog. “You had it rough, huh? Guess I can’t blame you for biting me if you thought I was a threat to your mom here.”

  Meg blinked. “Most people think I’m exaggerating about my ex. He’s very well respected in the community. He’s on the board of several charities and he’s known for his contributions to society.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not a jerk. What people show in public can be very different from their private lives.”

  “You believe me?”

  She sounded incredulous, as if she’d stated her ex was a little green alien instead of a bastard. Cooper carefully set down his spoon. “I believe the dog. Dogs, like horses, learn to be mean when they’re treated badly. It’s self-defense.”

  Judging from the bruises Meg sported and the suspicious looks she cast him, the princess had been treated the same.

  “Let me try something.” He picked up a piece of meat from his stew and held it out to Sophie. “Look, Sophie. Good stuff.”

  More growling. Cooper avoided looking straight at the dog. Looking head-on at the canine would indicate aggression. “It’s ok
ay. Come on.”

  Sophie trotted forward, snatched the meat from his outstretched fingers and pranced backward, as if afraid he’d suddenly hit her.

  Cooper leaned back, well away from the dog as she ate the meat.

  “Good girl,” he crooned.

  Sophie sat back and licked her nose.

  “Lacey told me you’re good with dogs. You’re a Navy SEAL and Jarrett was your leader. Did you work much with dogs when you were deployed?”

  Grief pinched him as he thought of Max. He stiffened. “I’d rather not talk about me. Let’s get you and the furball settled for the night.”

  It took a few minutes for the tour. Meg gripped the dog as he showed them the master bedroom upstairs and the bathroom with the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. The guest room where she’d sleep was downstairs next to another bathroom. He stood in the living room, wondering if she’d noticed how worn the plaid sofa was, with bits of fabric fraying at the armrest, or how the chair by the fireplace sagged a little too much.

  Beneath the northern window overlooking the barn was a small table and two chairs. Brie had found the set at an antiques fair in Maine. He remembered that day so clearly it hurt. He’d taken her for an outing before one of his deployments, and they’d eaten hot dogs at a stand. It was a crisp, cool May day with pink and purple pansies and petunias starting to bloom, and she’d seen that little table with a long scratch down the middle and declared it needed a little TLC and would fit perfectly beneath the window.

  He’d sanded, buffed and stained it, and she’d hugged him so tight he could barely breathe.

  Soon after, she announced she was going to work in the inner city where she could do more good in protecting women and children. He’d tried to talk her out of it, but Brie was stubborn. So he’d purchased a new bulletproof vest his brother Derek said was the best. Combat Gear Inc.’s vests were lighter and more flexible, allowing Brie to get out of a tight space quicker.

  He knew all about getting out of tight spaces.

  She’d thanked him over and over when she’d tried on the vest, marveling at how thin and sturdy it seemed. He’d hung up the phone that day, relieved his little sister would be safe.

  That body armor had proven faulty when Brie was killed. If he ever found M. E. Franklin, the man whose name was on the corporate documents... His jaw tightened as Coop shook the cobweb of memories from his mind. Had to focus on the present, and Meg, who kept staring at him as if he were an ogre.

  “You look really angry,” she whispered.

  “Sorry. Just woolgathering. This place used to be my sister’s.”

  “Does she mind if I stay here a few days? I don’t plan on being here long.”

  Meg wasn’t going to settle here for a while. She probably saw how shabby everything was and figured this wasn’t the Hilton. He wouldn’t force it. “She’s dead,” he muttered.

  Ignoring her apology, he focused on building a fire. As the flames caught and flickered, he thought of how homey and cozy the cottage was. Brie had teased him about how he should use it for a tryst with a sexy brunette.

  Funny how the princess fit the description. Her body, yeah, just his type, but not the personality. He preferred country girls who loved riding horses, didn’t mind baling hay and enjoyed dancing at the local honky-tonk.

  Not wealthy women who carried dogs in designer purses.

  After piling wood into the fireplace and igniting it, he dusted off his hands. “There’s plenty of food in the pantry. Thermostat’s on the wall behind the sofa if you get cold. Power may go out in this storm, but the heater is gas so you’ll be set. I’ll leave candles and a flashlight on the hall table.”

  Meg sat on the sofa, eyes huge and round as she clutched her dog. “You’re leaving us alone here?”

  Damn if she didn’t look lost and forlorn, like a stray puppy. He stood and cleared his throat. “I have to spend the night with Betsy.”

  Her expression fell. “I understand. I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you to stay here with us.”

  Cooper grinned. “Betsy’s not my girlfriend. She’s a horse with colic.”

  Meg’s eyes widened, and then a lovely smile graced her full lips. She gave a little laugh. “Oh! I thought...”

  Admiring the pink flush on her china-doll cheeks, he pointed to the window. “I was going to spend the night in the barn, checking up on her. But I’ll come back here later, make sure you’re okay.”

  “You really do care about your animals.”

  His throat went tight. “Yeah, and ole Bets is special. She belonged to my sister.”

  He didn’t want to launch into an explanation, but Meg nodded and a soft expression filled her face. “Of course. I understand. The animals come first. Because they can’t defend themselves. Your sister would do the same, I’m sure.”

  Cooper rubbed a hand across his flannel shirt, suddenly uncomfortable. He hated talking about Brie. Any time her name was mentioned, it sent fresh grief through him, and he had to fight hard to maintain his composure.

  “I’ll leave my cell number if you need anything. Barn’s not far.”

  “My cell phone couldn’t get a signal, probably because it’s an inexpensive throwaway phone. Otherwise I would have called you.”

  “Ah. That’s why you never called. I waited and waited. Hate it when a woman says she’ll call and never does.”

  He liked her smile, wished she would relax. But he saw in her eyes the same trauma he’d seen overseas in women who had suffered much.

  For a minute he imagined what this must be like for her—homeless, on the run, at the mercy of a stranger. A big stranger. She was so tiny and frail-looking, yet he suspected within hid a core of steel. It took courage to pack up and leave everything you knew. He couldn’t imagine doing it....

  “When did your husband beat you?”

  At first she didn’t answer, and the pink of her cheeks warned he’d stepped over an invisible line. Coop suspected she was ashamed of the incident and what happened to her.

  He gentled his voice. “I only want to know if you need medical attention. If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me.”

  Meg’s head bobbed in a jerky nod, and she looked away. “He wasn’t that bad this time. But the time I ran off last year, before my grandmother got sick, that was very bad. I was in the hospital for a week. When I returned home, Sophie was gone. I found her in a shelter known for euthanizing dogs.”

  Cooper wanted to find her husband and show him exactly what he thought of men who beat women and animals. He’d had plenty of experience in dealing with those types and didn’t tolerate them well.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she picked up Sophie and hugged her until the dog whined. He started toward her, but Meg flinched.

  It would take time for her to trust him. Sighing, he took the pad and pen by the old-fashioned rotary phone hanging on the kitchen wall and scribbled his cell. “Service out here is sporadic, but I installed special equipment to boost the signal. I’m going to call your cell to make sure it works.”

  After he dialed the number, the cell phone he’d plugged in at the counter began to chirp. Nodding, he hung up the phone.

  “Everything’s okay.”

  “I wish I could believe you.”

  “No one knows you’re here,” he assured her. “Only Jarrett and Lacey, and they wouldn’t tell a soul. You’re safe. And no one has the phone number of this cottage except my mom and me. Tomorrow we’ll move you up to the main inn.”

  Wishing he could make her believe him, he snatched up his jacket from a peg by the door, along with his Stetson, and tugged on his gloves.

  Cooper paused at the kitchen door. “Remember, you need anything, just call me. You’ll be fine.”

  The dog looked at him and growled.

  “You too, furball.”<
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  Then he winked at Meg, opened the door, went onto the sunporch and into the storm.

  * * *

  When Cooper left, she peered outside, watching him struggle against the howling wind. Meg rubbed her arms, shivering from nerves, not the cold. Certainly it was warm enough here. But she hated being alone in this cottage. And how did she know he wouldn’t turn her over to Prescott? Judging from the faded, worn furnishings, Cooper didn’t have much money. Money could influence people, even those with the best intentions.

  She’d seen it before too many times. But Lacey trusted him. And she trusted Lacey. It would suffice for now.

  Not for long. Prescott would find her eventually.

  The only person she could trust besides Lacey was Randall Jacobs, the longtime family friend who worked for the company. Randall had invented the fiber they used for racquetball paddles and Meg got the idea to incorporate it into flexible body armor.

  After Randall discovered the material was too unstable to stop bullets, he pleaded to halt production. Prescott ignored his entreaties. So Randall hid copies of Prescott’s internal confidential documents ordering the shipment of the defective vests to Boston.

  He’d told Meg he would give her those documents for her to turn over to federal authorities, and then give himself protection under the federal whistleblower act.

  She picked up the cell phone and checked the charge. She’d texted Randall while on the road. He had this number and promised to call by tonight to arrange to meet her at his family’s summer house in a nearby town. What if something happened? Could someone trace this phone back to her? She’d been so careful.

  Where could Randall have hidden those documents?

  Sophie trotted on her heels into the living room after Meg washed the bowls and cleaned up. Sitting before the fire, she stared at the flickering flames.

  Leaving Sophie to doze before the fire, she went into the bedroom and fetched her grandmother’s quilt. Meg wrapped it around herself and curled onto the sofa.

  “I miss you, Gran,” she whispered. “Why did you have to leave me?”