by Bonnie Vanak
Once she’d felt like this with Prescott. Instant attraction. Meg forced herself to dial it down. Attraction could be deadly. Hadn’t she learned that?
Far from looking heartbroken, the waitress looked interested. “About time you stopped waiting for me, Cooper. Pleasure to meet you, Megan.”
“Pleasure to meet you, as well. I’m so happy I can finally meet Cooper’s family and friends,” she said, playing the part.
“Well, you get tired of Cooper’s meals, you just come out here for the best home cooking this side of the Mississippi. Cooper’s cute, but he could burn water. Even his mother says so.” Jackie grinned.
“Hey, I can cook,” he protested.
“Cutie pie, a man like you doesn’t need to cook. You just blink those pretty blue peepers of yours and you melt hearts.” Jackie sighed. “Including mine.”
He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’d date you in a heartbeat, darling, if I wasn’t worried about Mark coming after me with a stick.”
The waitress rolled her eyes. “That would mean Mark parting from his recliner and the widescreen. You’re free to flirt with me until football season is over, Coop.”
Winking at Meg, she strolled off, pad in hand.
Meg smiled. “She’s nice.”
Cooper sipped his water. “Most people in town here are. Nosy as hell, too, which goes with small towns. A few you have to watch. Like Roy.”
“I didn’t like him,” she admitted.
“Roy’s married, but he’s a hound dog who roams. He thinks he’s a gift to women.” Cooper snorted and drank his iced tea. “The kind of gift you wish you could return.”
“He seemed awfully interested in how long you’re home.”
Cooper shook his head with disgust. “Roy knows I’m Navy, but he, like everyone else in my family, thinks I’m an ordinary sailor. He likes bragging he was a Navy SEAL. Went around telling everyone he took a bullet that dented his Budweiser when he was on a mission in Iraq, and he had to retire. Bunch of bunk that gets the ladies oohing and aahing. I just let him talk, make a fool of himself.”
“Didn’t you tell him you know what the real deal is?”
He lowered his voice. “Real SEALs don’t brag about themselves. I have no desire to broadcast what I do for a living. The fewer who know, the better.”
Her respect went up a few notches. Prescott always bragged about himself. It was refreshing to meet a man who did not, and instead, demonstrated his abilities through his actions instead of words.
They talked about the town and their favorite meals during lunch. Meg enjoyed his company. Cooper had a sincerity about him, but the entire time they were at the café, he never lost his aura of watchfulness. His quiet, solid presence was reassuring. She liked this man and felt safe with him.
But she knew soon enough, she’d be gone.
Cooper paid the check and they left the diner. Jackie called him back inside for a moment, asking him for a word in private. He glanced at her. “I’ll be only a moment.”
“Go on. I’ll stay here.” She nodded at the shop next door. “They have a wonderful collection of quilts. Time for a little window-shopping. Something a guy can’t understand.”
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he told her, and vanished inside.
The store had a lovely display of handmade quilts. Meg studied the creations, wistfully thinking of her grandmother. For a woman who ran a multimillion-dollar sporting goods company, Gran had never lost her country roots. She’d passed that on to Meg, along with a dose of common sense.
She moved on to study a blue-and-white wedding ring quilt hanging from a rack when she saw movement reflected in the window.
A man was standing in the street behind her. A man wearing an expensive camel-hair overcoat, dark trousers and polished loafers. Big loafers.
Meg’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled tight as she fought for control.
Impossible.
She glanced to the right at the overhead traffic light, which turned red. Guy in the street, no traffic, nothing unusual. He was probably crossing the street.
Guilty of jaywalking, nothing more.
Turn around and see who it is. Just a guy, out for a walk. Maybe he wants to go into the quilt shop and he thinks he’ll look silly, a guy entering a sewing shop.
Do it. Turn around.
One, two...
Three!
Meg turned. The light turned green and a stream of cars went past. She craned her neck, looking up and down the street for the man.
He was gone.
But for a split second, she could have sworn he looked exactly like her ex-husband.
* * *
Cooper thought he could teach her young dog new tricks. Meg hoped so, for if Sophie kept growling at men, she wasn’t certain who would want the dog. And she needed to find Sophie a home if the worst happened and she went to prison.
Late that afternoon, Meg went into the barn to watch them work. In his jacket, Stetson and faded jeans, Cooper looked more like a rugged cowboy than a dog trainer. But Sophie watched him attentively.
“Sit,” he told Sophie.
Sophie promptly sat.
“Good girl,” Cooper crooned. He opened his hand and said, “Stay.”
Sophie promptly got up and wagged her tail, ignoring him.
He tried it a few more times, his voice soothing and deep, never rising in tone. Sitting on a bale of hay, Meg marveled at the man’s patience.
Finally Cooper ordered Sophie to sit, and then walked backward, his gaze never leaving the dog. “Stay,” he ordered.
Her dog never moved. Meg held her breath.
Cooper walked up to Sophie, gave her a treat and praised her, stroking behind her ears. Sophie seemed to enjoy the attention as much as the treat. Hope filled Meg. Perhaps after all this time of suffering shouts, insults and the occasional kick from Prescott, Sophie would heal under Cooper’s gentle hand.
Cooper tugged at the brim of his Stetson, a wide grin touching his full mouth. He turned to her. “Hey there.”
She smiled. “Hey there yourself, dog whisperer. You’re good.”
He gave a modest shrug. “Takes a little time and patience, but she’s a smart furball. She’s learning.”
Jumping off the hay bale, Meg started for Sophie.
“Sit,” he ordered in a mocking tone.
Meg scowled.
And then he laughed, went to her and clasped her hand. “C’mere.”
He tugged a little too hard and Meg collided with his firm chest. She stared up into his dark blue eyes. “And what kind of treat do I receive for obeying?”
His pupils expanded, and his breath hitched. Unsmiling, he stared down at her. “When you’re ready, Princess, I’ll show you.”
Deep and husky, his voice washed over her like a velvet stroke. Meg pulled her hand from his. This man was dangerous. Sexy. Charming. And he adored animals as much as she did.
All the more reason to keep him at arm’s length.
“Thank you for working with her. Please continue. She responds well to your voice. I’m cold and need to go inside.”
Wasn’t true, for the heat of the man still burned through her jacket. She turned, ignoring the whine of her dog. But as she walked away, she could swear Cooper tracked her with his gaze, as if he wanted to teach her a few commands of his own.
She spent two hours at the inn with her laptop because the Wi-Fi was better there. Meg surfed the internet, looking for news articles on her ex and any updates on Randall’s murder investigation. The police seemed to think it was suicide.
Meg tried to put the odd incident in town out of her mind. Lots of men wore nice overcoats and looked like Prescott and had big feet. The reflection hadn’t been clear, either, so it m
ust have been her overactive imagination.
When she finally returned to the cottage, Sophie was inside the kitchen. No sign of Cooper. Meg went into her room to set down her laptop and noticed a red rose on her bed.
Meg went still, fear curling inside her. Prescott used to give her red roses.
But this was an inn, and she was being silly, her imagination going wild. It was a welcoming gift, nothing more. She picked up the bloom and inhaled the scent. Sophie looked up and wagged her tail.
“Look,” she told her, holding out the rose so Sophie could sniff it.
But the dog growled and backed off, and then suddenly dashed for the open door.
Setting the rose on the dresser, she went into the bathroom. Sophie was hiding in the shower. “Silly girl, it’s okay, just a little prickly rose,” she crooned, gathering the dog into her arms. She placed Sophie on her dog bed and patted her head until she relaxed.
She’d mentioned how much she used to adore red roses as she and Cooper explored the pathway cutting through the farm, down the hill to the nearby river. Fiona had a greenhouse, Cooper told him, and she grew roses year-round.
So, to thank Cooper for going to all the trouble, she asked Fiona for ingredients to make dinner. His mother was happy to oblige. And when Meg asked her to join them for dinner, Fiona made excuses about eating earlier.
Meg whipped up a green salad and a casserole from chicken she’d found in the freezer, noodles and a can of mushroom soup. When she called Cooper from the upstairs bedroom to come to the kitchen to eat, he gave a sigh of relief.
“I was going to cook some canned ravioli. I bet your cooking has to be better than that.”
“Even your cooking is probably better than canned ravioli,” she teased.
Sophie joined them. Meg watched as Cooper opened a can of dog food.
He set the bowl down and made a hand signal. Sophie did not move.
Then he snapped his fingers and the dog began to eat. Delight shot through her. “You really made progress. Usually she’s on me, jumping up and down, as soon as she hears that can opener.”
“I’ve been told I’m very good with animals...and women,” he told her. His voice went husky. “I can be very, very patient when it comes to getting something I want.”
Wow, there certainly was a message there. Heat spiraled through her all the way to her toes, and it wasn’t from the oven, either.
As they sat down to eat, he praised her salad and then spooned up the casserole mixture eagerly.
“This is very tasty, Princess.”
“I grew up with a grandmother who believed in self-sufficiency,” Meg told him. The nickname was beginning to grow on her.
He smiled. “Better than the chow I make myself. I swear my cooking makes Sophie’s dog food look tasty.”
She was beginning to like this man, who adored animals as much as she did. But Meg didn’t dare trust him. He had made it clear his family came first. And he was too interested in Randall and what Randall had on Prescott.
She had survived too much to ever get involved again with a man who wouldn’t consider her needs first, both emotionally and physically.
“Prescott hated my cooking. He called it simplistic.” She chased around her food on the plate with a fork, her appetite diminished at the thought of her ex. “He insisted on hiring a French chef.”
“Idiot,” Cooper muttered. “Not that he wasn’t a big enough of one for what he did to you.”
Meg kept her gaze focused on her plate, uncomfortable with talking about her past. “I should have learned to defend myself, but never did.”
“Not necessary. Men should protect women, no matter what.” His gaze darkened as she glanced up. “Not hit them.”
“But a woman should learn to handle her own problems.” Meg wasn’t about to make excuses for herself.
“A good husband cares for his wife and is a shoulder for her to lean on, and he should take the burden off the woman.”
“So you think the little woman should stay in the house and the kitchen? How very 1950s of you,” she shot back. “Most women these days can fend for themselves. I certainly can, and so could my grandmother. She headed up a major business and knew how to do more than sew a quilt or bake.”
Cooper looked at her calmly. “I didn’t say that. I meant a woman shouldn’t have to do all those things by herself. God knows my mother shouldn’t have to run this place alone. It’s one reason I’ve thought about quitting the teams.”
Glowering, he sat back and scrubbed a hand over his chin. Meg sensed she’d struck a very deep nerve. “Your mother sounds like she is a hard worker who could use a vacation.”
Those broad shoulders relaxed the slightest. “She sent my uncle, aunt and cousins to Oregon to visit relatives for a month. One reason I returned home on leave was to help out while they were gone. But I wish she’d take a vacation, too.”
Cooper’s cell phone rang. He glanced at caller ID and told her, “It’s Mike from the shop.”
Finally.
But Cooper made a face as he talked with the man. “You sure? Okay, do what you need and send me the bill.”
Meg’s hopes shattered as he hung up. “Bad news. You bought a real lemon. I’m amazed you got this far without a problem. The good Lord must have been watching over you.”
Her heart sank. “What is it?”
“Not your battery, but your alternator. It’s going to take at least five days to get the parts shipped up here from the distributor.”
Worrying her bottom lip, she felt her stomach roil. “I need that car back.”
“Not going to happen right now, Princess. And you can’t drive it with a bad alternator, because the car will keep dying on you.” He gave her a pointed look. “I’m not going to send you out of here with a vehicle that will leave you stranded on the road like you were before.”
Terrific. “I’m stuck here.”
“For now.” He leaned back, stretching out his long legs. “I’ll try to make it as pleasant as possible and not torture you. We only do that to our long-term guests.”
Maybe she could spend the time searching on her laptop for other clues. She didn’t like it, but had no choice because the sedan was her only means of transportation.
They made small talk about riding horses, and then he insisted on cleaning up. But she could see how weary he was, and she made excuses about retiring early. And then she remembered the rose.
“Oh, do you have anything here I can use for a vase?” she asked. “I need one for the rose.”
A puzzled look came over him. “What rose?”
“The one you left on my bed. It was very nice of you, after I mentioned I used to like roses.”
He frowned but quickly smoothed out his expression. “I didn’t leave you a rose, Meg. But Mom is known to do stuff like that for guests.”
Cooper hunted through the cabinets and found a dusty glass vase. Meg thanked him and rinsed it out.
“If you want dessert, there’s apple pie at the inn. It’s great heated up with vanilla ice cream,” he told her.
Meg washed Sophie’s dog bowl and set it in the dish drainer. “The pie sounds delicious, but I’m far too exhausted to have dessert. Good night, Cooper, and thank you for everything.”
He nodded. “Going to check on the horses, and I’ll be back soon.”
When he left, she picked up the rotary phone and dialed the inn to thank Fiona for the rose. The inn’s main number was on a sheet by the phone.
The woman answered in a brisk voice, “Sunnyside Farm.”
“Hi, Fiona, it’s Meg.”
“Meg! How was dinner?”
“It went well. I wanted to thank you for the rose.”
A pause came over the line. “What rose?”
“The one yo
u left for me on my bed at the cottage.”
Another long pause. “I didn’t leave a rose. It must have been my son.”
Meg felt her dinner start to churn in her stomach. “Probably. Well, good night and thank you again.”
She hung up the phone, her hand trembling. Cooper hadn’t left a rose, either.
If Cooper’s mother and Cooper hadn’t left the rose, who did?
Chapter 6
The next morning after an early breakfast at the inn, she took Sophie for a long walk by the cottage. The forest flanking the drive to the cottage looked pretty, and the grounds were private, far enough away from the inn’s other guests who arrived last night.
Remembering how Prescott had hired people to watch her every move, Meg had asked Fiona about the guests. There was a couple from England taking a second honeymoon, the reserved and taciturn nature photographer who’d arrived the same night as Meg, and a lonely gray-haired widow from Georgia who wanted to escape the heat.
Cooper met her at the fence separating the cottage from the private dirt road. He handed her a prepaid cell phone that had been programmed with his phone number and that of the inn. “We keep an extra for emergencies. Fully charged and set to go.”
With old-world courtesy, he opened the white gate and waited for her to walk through. “When you come here to walk the furball, make sure you keep this gate closed. Sometimes Pete, our neighbor down the road, forgets to lock up his dog. That dog has a mean streak when it comes to other dogs, but he’s sweet as a pup with people.”
She touched her pocket where the cell phone rested. He didn’t know who put the rose on her bed, but said it could have been the maid. Still, the gesture made her uneasy. Meg hated the idea of someone going into her room.
Cooper promised to take away the housekeeping key to make her feel more secure.
They walked for a while, and she asked questions about his family. His older brother, Derek, was a police detective in Boston. And, Aimee, now eleven, had been a “change of life baby” for their parents. Their father had been killed when his convoy encountered an IED.
“Dad was retired Army, who re-upped after the September 11 attacks. He wanted to serve again. Mom was worried, but she knew how important it was to him. When he died, it broke her heart, but she knew he died doing what was important to him.”