The Cowboy SEAL

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken off, but honestly?” Cooper shook his head and his crooked smile further lessened her anger’s hold. “I was scared.”

He removed his battered straw cowboy hat and crossed the room to hang it on the rack by the door. Even with his military haircut, he sported a wicked case of hat head and damn if it didn’t look good.

“Those kids of yours asked tough questions. I don’t even know the answers for myself.”

“I get that, but they’re kids,” Millie replied. “They weren’t even born when your mom died and they took your disappearing act personally.”

“You know damn well I didn’t just disappear.” His gaze met hers and locked.

The intensity in his eyes startled her to the point that she had to look away. Her pulse raced and she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, so she fussed with her robe’s belt, feeling all of thirteen when she realized that Cooper was still the most handsome cowboy in town.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

After college (Go, Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author LAURA MARIE ALTOM did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy-girl twins and a bonus son. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.

When not immersed in her next story, Laura teaches art at a local middle school. In her free time, she beats her kids at video games, tackles Mount Laundry and, of course, reads romance!

Laura loves hearing from readers at either PO Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, USA, or by e-mail, [email protected].

This story is dedicated to Dr Keith L. Stanley and Dr Brent C. Nossaman, as well as the nurses and staff of Tulsa Bone & Joint.

Thank you for giving me back my hand!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Hey there, cowboy.”

From his stool at Tipsea’s crowded bar, Navy SEAL Cooper Hansen cast a sideways glance at the stacked brunette who’d slipped her arm around his shoulders.

“Buy a lady a drink?”

“Be happy to...” After tipping the brim of his raggedy straw Stetson, he nodded to the bartender. “Only I’m gonna need you to finish it over there.”

When he pointed to the opposite side of the most popular squid hangout in town—her expression morphed from confusion to anger. “I should’ve known better than to chase after a no-good cowboy in a SEAL bar. Obviously, you don’t have a clue what it’s like to be a real man.”

“Guess not.” Rather than watch her go, he swigged his longneck brew, intent on enjoying his few remaining hours of freedom for what he feared could be a good, long while.

His pal and team member, Grady Matthews, took the stool alongside him. Everyone called him Sheikh due to the fact that on any given night of the week, he was surrounded by his own personal harem of beauties. “You do know the object of hitting a bar is to go home with the pretty girl, not to run her off, right?”

After taking another deep pull, Cooper snorted. “Thanks for the advice, but given my current dark-ass mood, the only place any sane woman would want me is far away.”

“There you are, Cowboy!” Another longtime friend and team member, Heath Stone, wandered up. “Everyone’s looking for you. The whole point of this gathering was to give you a night so good, you don’t forget to hurry back.”

“I appreciate it, man—” Cooper patted his friend’s shoulder “—but knowing what’s ahead of me, any hellhole on the planet looks better than where I’m headed.”

“Which is where? Sorry, I only paid attention to the guys’-night portion of the email.” He gave him a wink and an elbow nudge. “Not that I’m complaining, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve been out of the house. Libby keeps me on a tight leash.”

“And if you don’t kiss me, I’ll give that leash a good, hard tug.” Heath’s wife, Libby, snuck up behind him to nuzzle his neck. Cooper was no expert on the whole love thing, but if he was a betting man, he’d say his friend was a goner.

While the two indulged in giggling and good, old-fashioned necking, Cooper discreetly looked away. The bar was dim and Pearl Jam loud. Tipsea’s was a legend in Norfolk, and since another team member’s wife purchased it, SEALs always drank free—a perk Cooper would very much miss. The grunge rock? Not so much. He was more of an old-school Hank Williams kind of guy.

His pals meant well by hosting this shindig, but the God’s honest truth was that he’d just as soon get on with things. No amount of beer or pretty women would sugarcoat the fact that what he had waiting for him back home in Brewer’s Falls, Colorado, was good, old-fashioned hell.