Shielded by the Cowboy SEAL

by Bonnie Vanak

  “That’s what Coop says. He said Max is in heaven, helping to take care of Brie and Dad, just like he took care of Coop. Max saved his life.” Aimee bent down to stroke Sophie’s soft, silky fur.

  She blinked. “He did?”

  “Max was on patrol with Coop when he sniffed out a bad guy hiding alongside the road. Max barked a warning and the bad guy went to shoot at my brother and Max leaped in front of the bullet. My brother and his team shot the bad guy, but they couldn’t save Max.”

  Aimee’s lower lip wobbled. “I wish I could thank Max for saving my brother. I don’t want Cooper to die, too.”

  Meg hugged her. “He’s too tough to die, sweetie. Cooper’s going to be around for a long time.”

  “I know.” Aimee hugged her back and then spun the box around on the table. “I wish he’d take care of himself, too. But he’s too busy worrying about us. He’s always worried about where I’m going and what I’m doing, and nagging me more than Mom.”

  Startled at the insight, Meg set the bobblehead box upright. “He’s being a big brother. Maybe you and your mother should let Cooper know that you’ll be okay.”

  “Thanks, Meg. I like you. You’re not like Cooper’s other lady friends, who wouldn’t even talk to me.”

  She hugged the little girl back, liking her immensely, and then snapped on Sophie’s leash to return to the cottage.

  Inventorying her clothing in her mind, she knew exactly what to wear for dinner. Not the fancy designer clothing she’d purchased, but the soft powder blue sweater her grandmother had made her. It was the last item Gran had knitted, and Meg treasured it.

  Using her key, she unlocked the side door leading to the hallway where her room was. As she entered the cottage, Sophie hung back, growling.

  “What’s wrong, girl?” Meg looked around, her nerves frayed.

  Cooper wasn’t here. The cottage had been locked. But still, her dog growled.

  Meg picked up Sophie and went into the kitchen, first locking the door behind her. In the kitchen, Sophie circled around the rag rug and then lay down.

  Odd. Why did she growl at the entryway?

  Shrugging it off, Meg headed to her room. It was exactly as she’d left it, the bed made in haste, pillows lopsided. Relief filled her. She’d done this on purpose to see if the housekeeping staff actually did as Cooper said, and didn’t clean the room.

  Humming again, Meg opened the closet door and froze. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

  The powder blue sweater hung in tatters, shredded in useless strips. She removed it from the hanger and clutched it in horrified disbelief.

  The tears were long and jagged, as if made with a serrated knife.

  This was malicious and deliberate.

  Someone wanted her to know she was being watched. And only one person knew how much that sweater meant to her.

  Prescott.

  Chapter 9

  The sweater fell from her shaking fingers. This kind of maliciousness was on Prescott’s level. Or someone he’d sent to find her and give a clear warning.

  The rose on her bed, like Prescott once gave her.

  The card that looked sweet and romantic, until you read the inside message.

  And now the shredded sweater.

  All the same things that documented her wreck of a marriage over three years. Romance at first, then followed by a growing mean streak. Meg sat on the bed, holding the sweater and rocking back and forth, moaning. In the distance, she heard something, but the terror buzzing in her ears blocked out all else.

  He found me.

  He found me. Not safe, never will be safe, no one can protect me...

  A shadow fell over her and she screamed. And then a furry body wriggled next to her and began licking her face.

  Meg began to shake.

  “Meg!” Two strong arms gripped her shoulders, but the grip was gentle, not punishing. Cooper’s worried eyes scanned her face. “What happened?”

  Still trembling, she held out the sweater.

  “Someone did this.” Her voice came out shaky and unsure. “And I locked the cottage, I always lock it. It’s my ex. He’s here.”

  “It’s okay,” he soothed. “Tell me what happened.”

  “He once ordered the maid to rip up a new dress I’d purchased for a business dinner because I had insisted on wearing it against his wishes.” Her voice rose in hysterics. “This is exactly what Prescott would do. But he’d never lower himself to do it. He’d order someone else to destroy my things.”

  Cooper gently removed the ruined sweater from her shaking hands. “It’s okay, Meg. Deep breaths.”

  Following his instructions, she forced herself to calm. He nodded in approval. “Good. Stay here. I’m going to look around.”

  “Don’t,” she begged. “If he’s here, he’ll kill you. He’s ruthless.”

  “And so am I.”

  He left the room, and she heard him run up the stairs. When he returned, the pistol in his hand didn’t alarm her, but proved reassuring. That, and his determined look, eased the tight knot in her stomach.

  Hugging Sophie, she remained on the bed until he returned. Meg set the dog down on the ground and Sophie went into her little pink dog bed.

  “No discernible footprints. But the lock is loose on the hallway door. Whoever did this must have tampered with it. It wasn’t the housekeeping staff. They don’t have a key to the cottage.” Cooper holstered his pistol. “From now on, use only the front entrance. I’m going to nail this door shut.”

  As he set about securing the hallway door, Meg rubbed her clammy palms against the designer blue jeans. She should have purchased a suit of armor, because she’d need it to combat Prescott.

  The man had tentacles all over the country, and he would find her if he hadn’t already. Would send a legion of hired hands to find her. He could pay to make her vanish...

  When he finished, Cooper returned to her room.

  “All set. I doubt it’s your ex. There’s little chance of him finding you here.”

  “Then who was it?”

  “Someone could be messing with you.” He picked up the shredded sweater. “Or trying to scare you into leaving.”

  “Well, it’s worked.” Meg plucked the sweater from his hands and tossed it into the trash. “I’ll pack my things and call a taxi. I can grab a motel room in town.”

  “Whoa, Princess.” Cooper held out his hands. “Running now won’t solve anything. You’re safer here with me. I’ll get a security system, cameras. Been meaning to do that for a while.”

  He sounded so determined and assured. “You’d do that for me?”

  Cooper nodded, his expression grim. “When I take on an assignment, I finish it to the end.”

  An assignment. That’s what she was. Exhausted and spent, Meg buried her face in her hands.

  The bed dipped beneath his weight as he joined her. He pulled her against him and stroked her hair.

  “It’s okay, Princess. It’s someone playing tricks on you, to rattle your cage. I’ll find this bastard and deal with him. I promise I won’t leave your side.”

  She wanted to burrow against him like Sophie curled up against her when she was scared. He smelled so good, spices and sage aftershave, and his arms were solid and reassuring.

  Meg could remain here forever, secure in his embrace. It had been far too long since anyone held her like this. Gran had been far too ill in the last year, and Prescott knew only how to hurt.

  So she indulged in the comfort of Cooper’s embrace. Tears threatened, rising in the back of her throat. Meg tried to blink them away, but the trauma of the unsettling incidents, coupled with the raw emotions over Randall’s death, undid her.

  She felt warm salt water trickling down her cheeks and sniffled as if she were
Cooper’s kid sister, not an adult who knew how to take care of herself.

  “Aw, hell,” he muttered. “Don’t cry now, Princess. You and the furball are safe here, I’ll make sure of it. If you want to cry over something, cry over my lousy cooking. It’s enough to give a seasoned sailor a bad stomach.”

  Meg smiled against his chest.

  He stroked her back in caresses that soothed, and began to stir different feelings as well. Desire. It tickled her insides like a feather and began to grow, pushing aside the mingling fear and dread. She raised her face to find him studying her with an intense and purely male look. But along with the sheer lust on his face was concern.

  Tenderness.

  Parting her mouth, she started to close her eyes as he dipped his head close. And then the image of Prescott flashed in her mind. His sneer of triumph as he threw her against the bed...

  She jerked away as Cooper’s mouth touched hers.

  Flustered, Meg rubbed her hands against her legs. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “No prob.” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s get you some dinner. Then we’ll figure out plan B.”

  There was no plan B for her. She’d always lived from plan A to the hopeless feeling that there would never be a second alternative. Cooper was solid and strong, but he didn’t know Prescott.

  Meg glanced down at Sophie, her stomach churning. Was the dog next? How easy would it be to take the scissors and hurt her beloved pet? She might have lost more than a mere sweater.

  It killed her to do it, but perhaps it was best for Sophie to adjust now to living with new owners. Meg pushed past the lump in her throat.

  “I want to give Sophie to Aimee.”

  Cooper’s keen blue gaze sharpened. “Why?”

  “She’ll be safer with Aimee. And with your mom at the inn.” She caught his arm. “Please, Cooper. If this person had taken the scissors to Sophie...”

  He rubbed a hand over her nape, and the gesture felt soothing. “All right. We’ll tell her it’s part of Sophie’s training to get used to new people.”

  They took the dog and her belongings to the delighted Aimee, who began playing fetch with Sophie’s squeaky toys.

  But she canceled dinner and instead, she and Cooper grabbed sandwiches from the inn. Meg retired early with the excuse of a headache. As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t fathom who would want to do this to her.

  And if it was Prescott, why was he going to all this trouble?

  * * *

  Two days after the sweater incident, Meg started to feel the ever-present tension ease. Nothing more had happened. Cooper had installed security cameras and motion detectors around the grounds and the cottage.

  He’d questioned all the staff. Jenny, the new housekeeper, admitted to being in the cottage. She said she’d gone there to borrow the vacuum.

  But she denied touching any of Meg’s things.

  With the new locks on the cottage, Meg felt more secure. Sophie had adjusted to sleeping in Aimee’s room and being with the girl. After receiving strict instructions to never let Sophie wander outside alone, Aimee promised to watch over her.

  During the day while Cooper’s sister was in school, Fiona kept the dog with her. Knowing her pet was in good hands made the separation easier. And Cooper’s calm, steady demeanor soothed her frayed nerves. With Cooper, she felt safe. Cooper was so normal and easygoing, she could almost forget why she was at the Sunnyside Farm.

  She was almost ready to trust him with her secret about the lake.

  Almost.

  The nightmares had finally receded, replaced by images of Cooper’s lazy grin, the way he sat on a horse, his long legs easily guiding the gelding on their afternoon rides. His intense blue eyes would light up as he told her about growing up here and the winter sports he and his older brother played. And his voice would grow soft as he mentioned his mother and Aimee.

  The only family member he never mentioned was the mysterious Brie. Meg didn’t ask, not wanting to stir his grief.

  His big, muscled body had power, but he’d shown her only gentleness in the small ways he’d touched her. Taking her hand to help her off the horse, or placing a hand at the small of her back as he escorted her into the inn for dinner last night.

  There are good men in the world, Fiona had told her. She wanted to believe this.

  He took to carrying his pistol on one lean hip in a leather holster when they went for their rides. Guns used to upset her, but seeing him with the weapon gave her peace of mind. Cooper was a trained warrior who knew how to handle a weapon.

  And he’d given her a bright silver whistle to blow if she was in trouble and not within reach.

  Meg hummed as she popped an apple pie into the oven that afternoon at the cottage. Fiona was hosting dessert night at the inn and she’d offered to help. She had spent hours in the kitchen, rolling the dough, recalling Gran’s recipe as she peeled the apples. The pie would sit fine with a sprinkling of cinnamon and ice cream.

  For once, she wanted to forget everything and enjoy herself.

  “I’m headed outside to say good-night to the horses,” she called up the stairs to Cooper, who was headed into the shower.

  Betsy hadn’t been faring well. Meg wished there was something she could do. She headed outside and shivered. The temperature had fallen and she could use a hat. Remembering Cooper told her to feel free to borrow Brie’s clothing, Meg ran back inside and up the stairs. She found a ski hat that fit perfectly.

  Coming out of the bedroom, Meg nearly collided with Cooper, who stood on the landing, toweling his hair.

  Dripping.

  Nude.

  “You’re naked.” She felt her face heat. Smart observation coming from a college graduate who was summa cum laude.

  He gave her a crooked grin.

  “I like to shower naked. And I sleep naked, too, Princess. You said you were headed outside.”

  Meg tried to avoid looking at his lower extremities, which were on display like a shop’s wares. Her breath came in jagged pants as she stared at him.

  The very magnificent maleness of him. All tanned skin over smooth muscle.

  Cooper leaned against the doorjamb, water dripping onto the antique wood floorboards. Drip, splash, rolling down his flat belly, following the thin line of dark hair that dipped into the much darker hair at his...

  Her gaze riveted to the floor and his feet, she refused to look up. Nice feet, square toes. The man was a well-put-together package.

  Package. Don’t think package; don’t say it, either!

  “See anything that interests you?” he inquired.

  “Very nice floor. Reminds me of Dade County pine and the Mizner cottages in Boca Raton. Those pine trees were very sturdy and...”

  Like a bystander trying to avoid looking at a train wreck, her fascinated gaze whipped up to the very male part of him. Oh dear heavens, that part of him was getting aroused.

  Meg hastily looked down again, staring at the curve of one strong calf.

  “Thick,” she finished.

  A low chuckle from Cooper.

  “I should leave for the bed. I mean the barn. I was going to the barn.”

  And yet she could not bring her feet to shuffle toward the staircase. Deep inside, the woman who had been neglected and longed for love cried out for attention, for a man to give her great sex and then hold her long after, making her feel cherished.

  Or just loved, with lots of great sex.

  Cooper studied her, the intensity in his gaze making her knees wobbly.

  “What do you want, Meg?”

  Dangerous. Forbidden. He had strength enough to snap a man’s neck.

  Or stroke a woman’s thigh with equal focus, and bring her to such a pleasure that she’d scream and never stop...
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br />   She’d picked the wrong man to guard her and provide her with twenty-four-hour protection. Because she wasn’t certain if she could protect herself against his raw sexuality. The man smoldered with it.

  Authoritative without being overbearing or arrogant. Quiet and confident, unabashed at being caught with his pants down.

  And much more.

  “I wanted to go to the bedroom. I mean the barn.”

  His gaze darkened. Drip, drip, the rhythm echoing her heart beating faster.

  “Alone? Or do you need warming up?” he suggested.

  Her lady parts tightened in anticipation. Oh yeah, lots of warmth. I’ll get undressed and you can snuggle against me with all those delicious muscles and hot skin sliding over me, and then you can warm me up from the inside when I spread my legs open and you...

  “You look flushed. Hot,” Cooper told her, his voice deepening.

  Meg put her hands to her burning face. “I’m fine. Tired. I need to lie down for a while before dessert. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  She sounded like a fool. But Cooper didn’t laugh, nor did he sneer as her ex would have when she babbled. He left his perch and came closer, the water splashing onto the floor. Water slicking back his dark hair, droplets clinging to his ebony eyelashes.

  “Do you want me to check downstairs, make sure no one else is there? Check the locks and double-check? I had the locks changed, and only you and I have the keys.”

  Cooper’s body tensed ever so slightly. In a minute he’d gone from relaxed, playful in his sexual banter, to watchful protector. The offer startled her, made her scramble for her lost composure because she didn’t know how to react around a man intent on protecting her instead of punching her.

  Strong, she had to be strong, because men like Cooper Johnson were a blip on her radar. Here and gone. She had to rely on only one person—herself.

  “No. Thank you. I’m fine. I came upstairs only to grab a hat before heading to the barn.” She gathered her dignity around her like a tattered cloak, clutching Brie’s hat.

  And then she couldn’t help it. “You’re naked and wet, and it’s got to be no more than sixty-five degrees up here. Don’t you ever get cold?”