by Bonnie Vanak
Meg set down the uneaten portion of her sandwich. “That sounds more appetizing than this sandwich.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
She poked at the blackened toast. “If the shoe leather fits...”
Shaking his head, he finished his sandwich. “Princess, you’re breaking my heart. Here I went all out to prepare a gourmet meal fit for a beauty queen, and you’re looking at my fine creation as if I served you toasted grasshoppers on rye bread. Which, I might add, are very fine when you’re starving on a training op.”
As he placed a hand over his heart, she considered. “Burned rye bread and raw grasshoppers? Is that what the Navy teaches you? What an epicurean delight.”
“Philistine,” he told her in a mocking tone. “You have no appreciation for the finer art of field cuisine.”
Meg laughed and sipped her hot tea. When he finished, she went to clean the table. Cooper caught her wrist. The warmth of his calloused fingers on her skin sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Such strong hands, and yet so gentle...
“I’ll get the dishes, Meg. You’re a guest.”
“I’m not helpless. You said you have work in the barn, and I have two good hands.”
Cooper’s fingers slid up her hand, and then he raised it to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with a light kiss. Heat flared between them, so powerful it felt like the very air would combust.
“Thanks,” he said in a husky voice.
Then, as if regretting the action, he gathered his coat and hat and went out the kitchen door, heading to the barn. But there was a spring in his step she hadn’t noticed previously.
Meg finished cleaning up and looked out the kitchen window as Cooper climbed on a ladder to attend to a broken light on the barn. Hearing a sound at the doorway, she turned to see an innocent-looking Fiona standing in the doorway.
“Did you have a nice lunch with Cooper?”
“The company was good. The food...”
Fiona went and began to put dishes away. “I’m afraid my son is spoiled when it comes to meals. We never let him cook on his own. He once almost burned down the kitchen. If I wasn’t making him something, then it was his aunt—my sister-in-law Jean. Or Brie. Brie always liked to treat her big brother when he came home...”
Fiona’s voice broke. She closed her eyes, her hands gripping the pot handle so tight, her knuckles whitened. Meg went to her and touched her shoulder. “I am so sorry about the loss of your daughter.”
The older woman nodded roughly. “She’s been gone only six months. I miss her so much, even though we seldom saw her after she began working in Boston’s rougher areas. We weren’t happy about it, but she felt compelled to do something more.”
Meg picked up a dish towel and began to dry the dishes. She didn’t want to bring up the subject of a diseased loved one, but if Fiona needed to talk, she’d listen. “She sounds dedicated.”
“Brie was a lovely woman. Even after she married that...man...she never lost her sense of joy. We were very grateful when she finally got divorced.”
“Cooper said something about a bad relationship.”
“Her ex-husband used to hit her,” Fiona said, clanking the pot as she put it away. “Cooper put an end to that. If he hadn’t, well, I own a .38 and I know how to use it. No one hurts my children and gets away with it.”
Driven by sympathy, remembering her own loss, Meg hugged Fiona. For a moment the woman hugged her back, her shoulders shaking. And then she finally stepped back, wiping her too-bright eyes with the back of her hand.
“You’re a good person, Meg. I can tell about people.”
Oh, how she wished Fiona were right. But good people didn’t operate companies that killed police officers. And they faced up to those who hurt them instead of running away. Cooper wouldn’t be afraid. He would not run away. He would have stood up to Prescott.
As she walked away, rolling down her sweater sleeves, feeling dejected, Fiona called out, “Wait.”
Meg turned at the door.
Cooper’s mother glanced at her left arm. The bruised left arm. Meg bit her lip, waiting for the questions she didn’t want to answer.
“I want you to know you’re safe here, from whoever and whatever is in your past,” Fiona said gently. “My son is a good man, and he’ll protect you.”
Awkward. She liked Fiona and the woman’s warmth, but this was too personal. Nothing could protect her once Prescott found her. And she didn’t want to hurt these kind people.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m not staying once I get my car back.”
“It’s not easy to pack up everything and leave your family, Meg. Sometimes the familiar proves too tempting. It takes a great deal of courage to put it all behind you. Especially when you have no one backing you up and your own family turns away from you.”
There was such frank bitterness in her words it made Meg wonder if Fiona referenced something even more personal. Yet Cooper said his father was a good man, and the way Fiona had fondly recalled her husband as they talked about life on the farm indicated he wasn’t anything more than an ideal husband. “I don’t have any family left, so that made it easier.”
“There are good men out there, Meg. Learn to lean on them when you need it.”
Nodding, she raced out of the kitchen, not wanting to pursue this conversation anymore. There were good men in the world.
Cooper was one of them.
But he wasn’t meant for her.
Chapter 7
While waiting for her car to get a new alternator, Meg kept busy over the next two days in the barn, working with Adela. She enjoyed horses, and teaching a traumatized horse to trust again proved one of her great joys.
She’d created Combat Gear Inc. to show herself that she was more than a Palm Beach socialite and a pretty decoration for her wealthy husband. Knowing she produced a product that would protect law enforcement officers and soldiers gave her a sense of peace she hadn’t felt since the terrible day Caldwell died. It gave her empty life purpose and a quiet sense of pride.
But working with animals that had been unwanted, abandoned or abused made her feel an equal sense of accomplishment.
After an hour, Cooper left her alone with the horse. His trust fed her confidence. No more incidents had happened to alarm her, and she was beginning to relax. Still, it would be best once her car was fixed and she was on her way.
She was beginning to like it here too much. The farm was peaceful. Fiona was friendly and motherly, and Aimee was a bright, intelligent girl.
And Cooper...the man was hot, honorable and quietly protective. Each time she was near him, the air snapped and sizzled with the attraction.
They fell into the habit of riding each afternoon, exploring the trails along the river. She rode Snowflake, a frisky young mare, while he rode Farmalot, a big gelding.
Cooper was a mighty fine sight in a saddle. Black Stetson tugged low on his forehead, sheepskin jacket hugging his broad shoulders, he looked like a poster for a rugged cowboy in Montana.
The previous night, Meg and Cooper had taken Aimee to enjoy a bonfire at the fire pit Fiona lit for the guests. The gray-haired widow from Georgia was Paula, a homemaker who lost her husband earlier in the year. Paula talked with a thick Southern accent and kept making eyes at Cooper.
Not a widow in deep mourning, Meg had whispered to the uncomfortable Cooper.
The nature photographer, Richard Kimball, even joined them, saying nothing and stuffing his hands into his pockets. The couple from England, Joe and Cathy Murphy, talked about their retirement dream of traveling the world. They offered peanut butter s’mores they’d made, but Aimee declined.
The girl had a peanut allergy.
After a while, she and Cooper had been left alone to the dying bonfire. They’d shared a bottl
e of wine, not of the expensive vintages Prescott stocked, but it has been aged in oak and fruity.
And the company had been far better.
Today Cooper was fixing things around the farm, but promised to be finished for their late-afternoon ride. While waiting, Meg decided to take Sophie for a long walk. She snapped on Sophie’s leash and took her outside. The weather was brisk, but delightfully so. She headed for the cottage, waving to Cooper as she passed.
Randall had indicated he’d meet her at his family’s summer home in New Hampshire. The house was located on a small lake. The evidence must be there, someplace around the house. If the documents were there, she had to act quickly before Randall’s estate was settled and his heirs decided they might keep the house. But Meg was no closer to deciphering the mysterious numbers than she had been upon her arrival. If only Randall had given her more information before she left. It had been too risky. Prescott watched her every move, except when he went on one of his business trips to Boston or to oversee production of the vests.
Even then, she had to be careful because he had his staff watch her. A few months ago Prescott had left for Boston, and Meg went to a shelter for abused women. Just to check it out. Just to see what it was like, to see if someone could help...
That night during Prescott’s evening phone call, he’d asked her why she’d gone there. Meg had stammered an excuse about charity work.
She walked Sophie down the driveway paralleling the horse pasture, enjoying the wind sending the dead leaves skittering across the ground.
Sophie sniffed at a tree and tugged on the leash, whining.
“Okay, let’s go back. Maybe I can find you some nice...”
Meg stopped, every hair rising on her nape as Sophie whined. The gate at the end of the driveway swung open in the wind.
Barely one hundred feet away stood a black-and-white dog. Weighing roughly eighty-five pounds, it looked like a pit bull mix. All muscle. And he bared his teeth, big, bad teeth, growling low, starting to pace toward her.
His gaze locked on Sophie, who whined and backed away, ready to run. Pete’s runaway dog. He was going to tear Sophie apart. And maybe her as well.
Meg froze, but Sophie turned.
“Sophie, stay,” she said in a low voice.
Dear heavens, please let her listen to me this time...
Her pet whined, but did not move.
Slowly, as to not anger the strange dog further, Meg crouched down and picked up Sophie. That gate wasn’t open when she started her walk. Who could have opened it?
Terror iced her veins. No pepper spray. She had that back in the room, thinking the farm was a safe place to walk her dog. If she ran, she and Sophie were toast.
Her gaze whipped over to the horse pasture. Hank, the foreman, was at the barn. Too far away to shout. With her right hand, she reached into her pocket for the cell phone Cooper had given her. Meg slowly pulled it free and pressed the number one and the speaker button.
“Cooper,” he said in a brisk tone.
“Nine-one-one,” she said in a panic. “I’m facing a really angry dog right now who wants to tear into Sophie.”
“Don’t move,” he told her. “I’ll be right there.
Meg slowly pocketed the phone. The pit bull mix growled at Sophie, who struggled to free herself from Meg’s grip. She knew the moment she put Sophie down, the bigger dog would attack.
Behind her, she heard Cooper pull up in a four-wheeler, heard him climb off, leaving the engine running. He reached her side.
“Meg, you okay?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes, but in about one minute, I won’t be. He has Sophie’s scent and he looks ready to charge.”
Cooper nodded. “Don’t move. I know you want to run, but it’ll trigger his chase instinct. Stay here. I know this dog.”
He began sidling up to the growling animal very slowly.
“Easy, boy,” Cooper murmured, avoiding direct eye contact. “You’re not gonna get an inch near Sophie there, are you, Buddy? Not even to make friends. I’m your friend. You know me, Buddy. Remember me, Buddy?”
Keeping his body sideways, he kept talking in a low, soothing voice to the growling dog, approaching him cautiously. Cooper spoke over his shoulder.
“Meg, on my word, turn around very slowly. Once he can’t see Sophie, he’ll lose interest. I’m going to grab his collar and then you walk away. Don’t run. Go back to the cottage. I’m going to take him back to Pete on the four-wheeler.”
Cooper reached into his pocket and withdrew a biscuit. It was small, but she prayed it could distract the dog.
“Look what I got, Buddy. A treat, just for you. Bet you don’t have many of those lately with ole Pete being so sick. You hungry, boy? You want a nice dog biscuit? It’s good.”
He tossed the biscuit to the dog, who loped forward and snatched it up.
“Now Meg, turn around real slow and walk off,” he ordered.
Every cell of her body cried out to bolt for the house. Still holding Sophie, she turned around, her heart racing. That was a big, mean dog. She didn’t see how Cooper could tame it to his hand.
Very slowly, she began to walk away.
“Gotcha!”
Daring to peek over her shoulder, she saw the most incredible sight. As he scratched behind the dog’s ears, the monster wagged his tail, licking Cooper’s face. The Navy SEAL had a leash attached to the dog’s collar.
Relief spilled through her. Gripping Sophie, she walked slowly back, fighting the urge to race for the safety of the cottage. Once inside, she closed the door. Meg watched Pete’s dog run alongside the four-wheeler as Cooper steered it through the gate. He got off, closed the gate and continued down the road, the dog barking joyously as he raced alongside him.
Trembling, Meg sank into the sofa in the sunroom and set down Sophie, who jumped onto her lap and crouched there, whining.
She stroked her dog’s head, trying to calm her. Poor Sophie. First Prescott’s nasty streak and now this. Was there any place safe for them?
“I know, baby. That was one huge set of teeth. I wasn’t going to abandon you, sweetie. No way. Where you go, I go. It’s you and me now. We’re all alone.”
Wagging her tail, Sophie licked her face.
Emotion clogged her throat. She could have lost Sophie today, and Pete’s dog would have hurt her as well. Anyone who knew her knew she’d never sacrifice her dog to an animal attack. Knew she’d defend her best friend with her life.
Cooper drove up, parked the four-wheeler. He let himself in and looked at them.
“You okay?”
At her nod, he went into the kitchen and she heard water running. Cooper returned and joined her on the sofa. Sophie still curled up against Meg. She allowed him to pat her on the head.
“You washed your hands to get rid of that dog’s scent,” she guessed.
Cooper nodded. “Don’t want to upset Sophie any more than she already is.”
Meg shuddered. He stopped, sat beside her and slid his palm over hers. “You’re still trembling. Can you tell me what happened?”
Meg told him about the walk, staring down at her hand as he held it. Not too tight, with just the right comforting pressure.
“Who could have opened the gate? I never would have done that and endangered Sophie.”
“I don’t know.” Cooper gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Everyone around here knows to close it. And the guests know this area is off-limits. I’ll check into it with Hank, see if he saw anything. Pete’s old and forgetful. I heard he had a relative come and stay with him this week and I thought things were better. I’ll call Pete’s daughter, who lives in the next town over, see if her family can take in Buddy. They have a nice spread, lots of room for Buddy to run without him getting into trouble.”
It f
elt so good to have him here next to her, his solid body muscled and capable. For two years, she’d struggled on her own against Prescott’s ill will.
Tempted to lean against Cooper, absorb some of his strength, she pulled her hand away. He had enough to contend with, and soon she’d be away from here. She liked his family. What would they think if they knew they’d sheltered a criminal in their midst? Fiona thought she was a well-bred socialite, accustomed to pampering. Not a woman whose trust fund founded a company that killed a police officer.
Meg gently disentangled herself from his arms. “I’d like to return to my room now.”
His quiet gaze searched her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
Meg headed for her bedroom, Sophie in her arms, glad the dog disguised her trembling palms.
Good Wi-Fi or not, she switched on her laptop.
Meg began surfing through websites about Randall’s life and Randall’s summer home.
For an hour, she found nothing that would indicate a favorite spot where Randall might hide the documents.
Her thoughts drifted to Cooper. Family man, devoted to his little sister and his mother. Holding it all together. The pull of attraction between them was strong, but she couldn’t get involved with a man like that.
A man who would always put others first before her. Cooper wasn’t self-centered like Prescott. Cooper’s rugged, quiet determination and his heart-stopping grin could coax a legion of women into bed. Prescott had almost the same charisma, until you got to know him.
All Prescott cared about was money.
Cooper cared about his family.
She needed a man who would put her needs first. And she needed a man now, as the old saying went, “like a fish needs a bicycle.”
Except Cooper remained in her thoughts as she dragged her index finger over the touch pad and kept surfing the web. Cooper with his solid body, those athletic legs and his hands that were so gentle in currying a horse...
So gentle and strong as he’d massaged her tired feet. His hands would feel wonderful against her naked skin, touching her every place she liked...