dog sat on her haunches, looked up at Coop and growled again. He shot the furball an amused look as he found a spoon for Meg to dish out the dog food.
“Well, hello to you as well. Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal your chow. Mom’s stew is much better. But if you’re staying here, you will learn manners.”
After setting the bowl of dog food on the floor, Meg slid into the seat with an appreciative sigh. “Thank you. This looks delicious.”
As he started out of the kitchen, she blinked. “Aren’t you eating? I hate to eat alone.”
Sighing, he fetched another bowl. Ever since his leave, he kept up with PT, but watched his calories, mindful of his weight. Two dinners tonight. But he’d work it off tomorrow.
He joined her at the table. “It’s not filet mignon, but it’ll fill you up on a cold night, Princess.”
She frowned. “You don’t like using my name? Why do you keep calling me ‘Princess’?”
Cooper blinked. “You look straight out of the pictures I’ve seen of beauty queens. And I give nicknames to everyone. I do on the teams and around here.”
“Oh? And what did they call you?”
He considered. “Usually Coop. Farm Boy, too, because I grew up on a farm. Sometimes Beast because I get real ornery when I get hungry.”
As they ate, she kept stealing glances at him, maybe wondering if he’d rocket off into a temper because of his beast rep. Knowing she had been abused, he hastened to add, “I may get mean, but that’s only around the guys. You’ll see.”
“I won’t be around here long enough to find out,” she told him. “This is temporary.”
“Doesn’t matter if it is, you’re going to need new clothing if all you packed are clothes fit for Palm Beach. Like those fancy boots you were wearing.” He shook his head. “Totally inappropriate for New England weather.”
“Those are my eight-hundred-dollar Jimmy Choos. They’re suede,” she shot back.
“Jimmy’s shoes? Who’s Jimmy?”
“Jimmy Choo,” she said very slowly, as if conversing with someone with the mental capacity of a three-year-old. “He’s a famous designer.”
He knew this, knew all about expensive shoes because an ex-girlfriend raved about them. “So you like wearing shoes with a guy’s name on them? Your Jimmy’s shoes aren’t fit for snow and slush and mud. They’re worth about ten dollars now at a yard sale.”
“What’s a yadh?”
“Yard.” He spoke slowly. “My accent is coming out. Happens when I get tired. Better get you to a store tomorrow to fetch you some real boots.”
“Real boots?” Meg frowned. “What do you wear around here?”
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
