Bonnie Vanak - Shielded By The Cowboy Seal

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 okay. 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.”