Page 39 of Cowboy SEAL Homecoming

“Give him a break, Jack. It’s hard to treat someone like a sister when you want to get her into bed.”

Everything inside of Alex tensed. “I do not.”

Gabe just grinned. “Your nickname in the SEALs may have been ‘Dad,’ but here in Montana it should be ‘Denial.’”

“Can we get some fucking sleep before we have to get up and shovel cow crap tomorrow?” Jack muttered.

“I don’t want to sleep with her,” Alex said with as much unemotional conviction as possible.

Gabe and Jack exchanged a look that clearly said they did not believe him.

“I don’t,” he repeated. Because he did not. If he had ever noticed her…attractiveness, that was not the same as wanting to sleep with her.

“Guess you’ll have to prove it,” Gabe offered as he and Jack opened the door and walked inside.

Alex looked down at Star, who panted happily up at him, the tension of the argument having not affected him at all.

“Oh, I’ll damn well prove it.”

* * *

The trouble with crying herself to sleep was waking up feeling like her eyes were sandpaper and her head was stuffed with cotton.

But Becca had gotten the crying out of her system, and today was a brand-new day. She tried to find some strength in that as she walked downstairs to make the coffee.

But Gabe had beat her to it and was standing there stirring something into her mug. She thought briefly about not going into the kitchen, about scurrying back to her room so she didn’t have to face this.

But that would be cowardly, and she hadn’t been wrong. So she steeled her courage and stepped forward. “Morning, Gabe.”

“Hey.” He nudged a full mug of coffee down the counter. “Doctored up just the way you like.”

Becca stared at the mug suspiciously.

“I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I was more worried that you put salt instead of sugar, but sure, poison too.”

Gabe chuckled, but any amusement quickly died. In fact, everything about him kind of changed. His posture straightened and his expression was grim. She figured this was what soldier Gabe looked like. None of the easy smiles or big laughs. Serious, ramrod-straight stillness.

It made her more than a little nervous, but his dark gaze met hers head-on. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you last night,” he said, his voice clipped.

“Oh.” Becca didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t…have a lot of people apologizing to her. What was the gracious way to accept one?

“It was out of line, and I promise that while I may disagree with you in the future, I will not speak to you as harshly as I did. It was unacceptable, and it won’t happen again.”

“Aren’t you supposed to call me ‘sir’ when you talk in that military monotone?” Which wasn’t what she should have said. It just tumbled out because she didn’t know how to respond to this in any of them. The way they adopted these blank, rote ways of talking.

Gabe smiled. A real smile. “You’re a trip, Bec,” he said, shaking his head. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re good for this thing we’re trying to build. We need someone like you, even when we push against it.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

The front door creaked open and Jack poked his head in. “Um, Becca,” he called. “There is a goat on the porch roof.”

“Damn it, Ron Swanson.” She looked longingly at her mug of coffee and then resigned herself to reheating it later. She headed for the front door. Ron hadn’t gotten up on the roof in a while, but whenever he did, getting him down was quite the production.

She tried to hide a smile, imagining the guys’ reactions, but it was nearly impossible as she shoved her feet into her boots and pulled on her coat.

“What are you grinning at?” Jack asked.

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