The Cowboy SEAL. Laura Altom Marie

the eggs and make sure the heat lamp’s still on.”

      “But, Mom, I—”

      “Lee, just go.” Millie hated being short with the girl, but felt at least temporarily removing her kids from this toxic environment was best for all involved. Deep down, as tough as this father-son duel was to witness, she suspected it was doing them both good.

      “Fine.” LeeAnn held out her hand to her brother. “Come on, brat.”

      “You’re a brat!”

      “Both of you, knock it off!” Millie snapped. What a difference a day made. She’d grown accustomed to constant worry, but this added a whole new dimension to family fun.

      When the kids were outside, Millie drew Cooper into the hall, shutting Clint’s door behind her. “Look, I think I get what you’ve been trying to do with your dad—the whole tough-love routine—but maybe adding stress to an already difficult situation isn’t the best course.”

      “I wasn’t trying to do anything. I heard him banging around in there, and since you were still sleeping and your friend Lynette called and said because her car won’t start, she won’t be able to make it today, I figured I’d give you a hand. Turns out the old bastard didn’t want breakfast, but to give me a hard time.”

      “Cooper... You belittling him makes me uncomfortable.”

      “Sorry.” Outside, the wind howled. In the cramped hall, he paced, his expression every bit as tormented as the storm. “At the moment, his very existence isn’t doing much for me.”

      “You don’t mean that.”

      “No, I don’t, but honestly?” His pinched expression broke her heart. No—what really broke her heart was the way so much time had passed, yet everything between father and son had not only stayed the same, but maybe even grown worse. “I’ve been here just shy of twenty-four hours and feel like I’m going batshit crazy. I know my dad’s going through a rough patch, but we’re all in this together now.”

      She winced at his language, though mirrored the sentiment.

      “If you don’t mind taking over in there—” he gestured toward his dad’s room “—I need to check the cattle.”

      Though he was yet again retreating, Millie knew that this time it was only temporary and for a noble cause. Their prized herd did need to be checked, and the fact that she wouldn’t be the one making the long ride out to the south pasture in these treacherous conditions made her heart swell with gratitude.

      “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” His gaze met hers and locked.

      His intensity 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 upon realizing that Cooper was still the most handsome cowboy in town. Don’t get her wrong—she’d loved her husband with every ounce of her being, but Jim had been a kind soul. Cooper? Well, even back in high school his downright sinful sooty-lashed stare had made rodeo queens swoon and female teachers forgive missing homework.

      From the kitchen came the sound of the back door crashing open. “Mom!” LeeAnn hollered. “Come quick!”

      Covering her suddenly flushed face with her hands, Millie found herself actually welcoming whatever emergency her daughter had brought inside. At least it would distract her from Cooper’s mossy-green gaze.

      The rooster’s crow coming from the kitchen was her first clue that she should abandon all hope of finding peace that morning.

      “Mom, the heat lamp’s not on and the chickens were shivering. We’re bringing them inside.”

      Millie pressed her lips tight while J.J. set his favorite golden wyandotte on the kitchen floor. She fussed a bit, fluffing her feathers and preening, then made a beeline for the cat food.

      Cooper cut her off at the pass to set the food bowl on the counter. “Mill, before we get the house full of feathers and chicken shit, do you have a spare bulb for the lamp in case it’s an easy fix?”

      J.J. gaped. “Uncle Cooper, you’re not allowed to say that word.”

      “Sorry.” He had the good grace to actually redden.

      “Apology accepted.” Millie was embarrassed to admit she didn’t have spare anything. The bulbs had been on her shopping list for ages, but with barely enough money to pay for food, let alone heat, what was the point of even having a list? “And no, I don’t have an extra.”

      “Okay...” He covered his face with his hands, then sighed. “J.J., how about you help your mom build some kind of pen, and I’ll help your sister bring the chickens inside—”

      LeeAnn shuffled through the back door, carrying a hen under each arm. “It’s freezing out there, and a branch knocked a hole in the roof.”

      Millie groaned, looking heavenward to ask, “Really? Our plates aren’t already full enough?”

      “Relax.” Behind her, Cooper lightly rubbed her shoulders. “We’ll keep the chickens inside until the storm passes, then, after our next supply run, I’ll rig a lamp for them in one of the empty horse stalls in the barn. Hopefully, the coop shouldn’t take but a day or two to fix.”

      “Sure. Thanks.” She didn’t want to find comfort in his take-charge demeanor and especially not from his touch, but how could she not when it felt as if she’d been running uphill ever since Clint’s stroke? To now have a man around to do the stereotypically manly chores made her feel as if her uphill charge had, at least for the time being, transitioned to a stroll through a nice, flat meadow. Call her old-fashioned, but when it came to gender roles, she missed doing mostly so-called woman’s work. “J.J., hon, do me a favor and run out to get some firewood. Pretend it’s giant Lincoln Logs and build a little fence.”

      “Cool! That sounds fun!” He dashed outside.

      LeeAnn had placed the ladder-backed table chairs in front of the living room and hall pass-throughs. She was such a good girl. Always eager to help. It broke Millie’s heart to see her always so blue—even more so ever since Cooper had shown up. Would she eventually cut him some slack?

      Millie glanced his way to find him bundled up, once again wearing Jim’s duster. He’d slapped his hat on, and the mere sight of him took her breath away. She wanted to stay mad at him for having left all those years ago, but she lacked the energy to fight.

      “I’ll bring in the rest of the hens then check on the cattle.”

      “Thank you,” she said to him, then again to her daughter, who’d cleaned poo with a damp paper towel.

      Cold air lingered when Cooper left. It smelled crisp and clean. Of cautious hope.

      “He’s awful,” LeeAnn said after Cooper had closed the door. “I wish he’d stayed away.”

      “I’m sorry about what you saw between him and Grandpa. When your grandma died, things were...” Where did she start in explaining to her little girl just how terrible Clint’s grief had actually been? True, what’d happened to Kay had been an accident, but Clint had treated his elder son as if the tragedy had been no less than murder. The uglier details weren’t the sort of matter she cared to casually discuss with her daughter. “Well... Things were really hard. And Grandpa and your uncle... They didn’t get along. Your uncle didn’t leave because he wanted to, but because Grandpa made him.”

      LeeAnn furrowed her brows. “Grandpa Clint wouldn’t do that. He’s nice.”

      “Sure, he is. But, honey, remember that this all happened a long time ago. Way before you were even born. Your uncle has a right to be upset. So does Grandpa. The two of them have a lot of talking to do, but that’s kind of hard with Grandpa not being able to talk.” Millie would be lying if she didn’t admit to also harboring a deep well of resentment