LITMIR.BIZ

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down M. E. Franklin, owner of Combat Gear Inc. Digging into this company was like a game of Chutes and Ladders he’d played as a child, and he’d just slid down a very long chute.

      He dug into his pocket and withdrew a jeweled figure no bigger than his thumbnail.

      It had a gold halo, a white crystal for a head and body, and two blue crystals for wings. His guardian angel.

      “I’m sorry, Brie. I let you down again,” he whispered. “God, I wish you were here. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to keep you safe.”

      Brie had bought it for him the day he enlisted. She’d pressed it into his palm as he slung his duffel over one shoulder. “To protect you, Super Cooper. No being the hero, okay? You come home to us,” she’d told him, and then hugged him tight.

      He treasured it as much as he did his Budweiser SEAL pin. He’d tucked that angel into his uniform pocket and it had traveled with him ever since. The little angel had seen him through BUD/S, the Basic Underwater Demolition/SEALS training all SEALS endured, and was in his uniform when he’d taken a bullet in Ramadi that should have killed him. Jarrett had teased him about it at first, but later, his LT started thinking maybe that angel pin pulled Coop out of a bad scrape or two dozen.

      He’d been banged up bad, came through it intact. But no angel pin could keep Brie safe. Only a damn vest that should have never been sold.

      Coop ran a hand through his hair, his guts churning. He looked at the little guardian angel charm and felt his throat close up.

      A noise at the barn door jerked him out of his ruminations. Coop pocketed the angel and stood, muscles tensing, his hands itching for a weapon as the barn door opened.

      Wind blew the snow inside as Meg and her dog ran into the barn. Meg struggled to close the doors.

      He stood, alarm pelting him. “What’s wrong?”

      Had to be a hell of a reason to bring her out of the nice, warm cottage in this mess. Scanning her body, he felt relieved to see no obvious injuries, nothing but a hint of distress in her green eyes. At her side, the dog wagged her tail and then shook, spraying melting snow everywhere.

      “I need to talk to you.”

      She braved this snowstorm for a chat? Exasperated, he shook his head. “I told you, I’d be by the cottage later.”

      “I know.” She came forward, snowflakes dusting her soft brown hair. “I also wanted to see how Betsy is doing.”

      Nice of her to check, but he resented Meg’s intruding on his personal space, his retreat away from the world. “She’s good.”

      Cooper splayed his legs and tensed. “Go back to bed and stay warm. You’ve just been through one bout with exposure. Unless you want me warming you all over again.”

      Not a bad idea, his body cheerfully agreed. Amid the earthy scent of horses and hay, he caught a tendril of her fragrance, all floral and feminine. Yet another reminder it had been a long time since he’d had a woman warm his bed. Or warm anything of his.

      Meg flushed a little and she bit her lip. He caught sight of her pulse pounding at her temple, as if she thought it was a great idea as well.

       Right. Put that thought out of your gray matter, chum, ’cause it ain’t happening in this lifetime.

      He heard a whuffing sound and hooves clicking against the cold cement floor, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Adela had nosed her way out of the stall and now stood in the aisle, right in front of Meg and her furball.

      Son of a...should have fixed that damn latch. But it had been yet another thing on his long to-do list.

      “Stay where you are and don’t move toward her,” he warned in a low voice, not wishing to alarm Adela.

      Wariness faded from Meg’s expression. Instead, she pulled off one glove and started toward the horse. Terrific. Now I have to save you a second time tonight?

      He murmured to the horse, hugging the left side stalls, not wishing to get kicked by Adela’s hind hooves.

      “Hey there, pretty girl,” Meg crooned. She picked up the abandoned apple.

      “Careful. Back off, now,” he warned. “She’s a rescue and had a tough time of it.”

      “A rescue horse?” Her face lit up and she smiled with such warmth, it nearly took his breath away.

      What would it be like to be greeted with a sweet, sunny smile like that every day? Marriage, family, a wife who would stick by his side, someone he could talk with, encourage her hopes and dreams like she did to him. Not the women he’d taken to bed and watched walk away, women who simply wanted sex because he was a Navy SEAL.

      Shaking free of the thought, Cooper watched Meg with wariness. Adela had been a rescue from a group out West. Her owner failed to care for her, leaving her alone in a pasture without enough water or feed. Ribs stuck through her skin, and Adela had huge trust issues.

      One didn’t simply walk up to a horse, let alone an abused one, and start chatting. But Meg walked toward her, nice and easy, approaching from the side, talking slow and soothing.

      Adela trembled at Meg’s approach, her ears pinned back. Meg stopped and stepped to the side, her gaze averted.

      “I know, pretty one. Someone was mean and hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you, baby. I just want to offer a little treat. A nice, fresh apple.”

      Meg took the fruit and held it out. “I’m going to stay right here and let you see me, see I’m not going to do anything until you give the okay.”

      She kept talking in low, soothing tones to the horse. Finally the mare’s ears returned to the side and she lowered her head.

      Meg kept palming the apple. “I’ve got a good friend who really likes horses, just like Cooper here does. She’s small, so you have to be real careful around her. Sophie, go say hello to Adela, nice and slow, like I taught you.”

      The mare didn’t retreat, and her muscles didn’t tense.

      Tail wagging, Sophie went to Adela, approaching very slowly from the side to avoid the horse’s blind spot just as Meg had. The dog stopped about thirty feet away, watching the horse, as if gauging her reaction.

      Ready to spring into action—it wouldn’t be good if the horse trampled the princess’s furball—Coop tensed.

      When Adela relaxed, Sophie loped over to the horse. For a moment, the pair sniffed at each other. Jaw dropping, he watched as Sophie nuzzled the horse’s neck and Adela responded by playfully butting the dog.

      Well, look at that. The dog and the horse. Remembering what Meg had said about Sophie being abused, Coop shook his head. Animals never ceased to amaze him. All the times he’d worked with Max, the Belgian Malinois who had been an integral part of the teams, he’d learned a lot.

      But he’d never seen anything like this. Instant friendship. His gaze whipped over to Meg, whose attention remained riveted to the dog and the horse.

      Meg made a hand gesture to Sophie, who moved away from the horse. Then Meg continued sidling up to Adela, holding out the apple. Adela plucked it with her big white teeth and munched. Meg stroked her neck, continuing to murmur soothing words.

      With a reassuring pat to Adela, Meg left, Sophie trotting on her heels.

      He must look like a fool, standing there with his mouth open. Coop approached Adela after she finished her treat and led her back to the stall. She went docilely, and he made certain to latch the gate firmly.

      Then he turned to Meg, who was crouching down and petting Sophie. “Where did you learn that trick?”

      She stood up. “I work with a local animal rescue group in Florida for abused horses, everything from feeding them to caring for their needs. Sophie has been a natural at getting the horses to calm down. I spent a lot of time at the stables

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