My Kind of Love (Finding Love 1)

I try—and fail—to ignore the fact that today was the first day in years where I didn’t feel the need to run.

Micaela

“Up and at ’em,” a deep voice says, waking me from my slumber.

I release an annoyed growl and turn over, so the light shining in from the open door disappears, and pull the blanket up to my head to cover my face.

“Time to get up.”

“Go away,” I groan.

There’s a slight tug on my blanket, so I fist it tighter, but Ryan’s too strong, and he easily rips the blanket from my body, dragging it off the bed.

“It’s cold,” I whine.

“That’s because you turn the air down to arctic temps before you go to bed.”

“Which is why I need my blanket,” I argue, my eyes still closed and my hand blindly waving in the air, trying to grab the blanket back. “Please.”

“Nope, breakfast is ready. We have plans today.”

I open one eye, my interest piqued. “Plans?”

Ryan smirks. “Come eat, so we can get going. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

I crack up laughing. “I thought you were married.”

Ryan scratches his head. “I was.”

“And your wife ate and got ready in twenty minutes?”

His face twists into confusion. “I…” He scrubs his hand up and down the scruff on the side of his face. “We didn’t really…” He sighs. “Look, I wasn’t a good husband, and we didn’t have a normal marriage. We didn’t hang out all that often. I’d been overseas for the majority of our marriage, and when I wasn’t over there, I was working.”

I nod my understanding. Not about their marriage not being normal, but about him being busy with work. When Ian told me he was going to be a SEAL, I did my research and learned how busy it would keep him. I knew the divorce and cheating rate for couples in the Navy was higher than others, but I was determined to make sure we weren’t a statistic. Unfortunately I never considered something as permanent as death would be the reason I wouldn’t spend my life with my husband.

“Well, just a word of advice for the future, women take at least an hour to get ready. More if we’re expected to look good.”

Ryan scans his eyes down my body, and my girly parts tighten in response. It’s been a long time since a man has checked me out, and it’s obvious he likes what he sees. Too bad nothing can ever happen between us. “You already look good,” he says, clearing his throat. “Let’s go.” He throws the blanket on me and walks out.

“Why are we up at the crack of dawn?” I ask, sitting at the table. I quickly rinsed off and threw on a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a tank, unsure where we’re going.

“We have about an hour drive south, and I want to get going before traffic hits.”

Ryan made eggs Benedict with hollandaise sauce this morning. I take one bite and release a moan in pleasure. If it’s possible to orgasm from eating delicious food, I would be having the orgasm of my life.

“My God, can I keep you?” I take another bite and moan again.

Ryan’s eyes bug out in fear and I laugh. “Calm down, I didn’t mean literally. You’re just such a good cook. I can’t cook for shit. Since my siblings and I are older, my parents tend to order in, or on special occasions, my dad will grill. But usually I live off pizza and cereal.”

“I like cooking,” Ryan says, taking a bite of his food. “My dad taught me how to cook, said a man should know how to take care of himself. If I’m home and have time, I like to cook. It’s healthier. I usually include ham, but I wasn’t sure your stance on animals after yesterday.”

I stab a potato with my fork and pop it into my mouth. “Oh, as much as I love the animals, I can’t live without meat. But I think I might have to skip fish for a while, just until I’ve had time to get over what happened.”

Ryan snorts a laugh and takes a sip of his orange juice. “Noted. No fish until you’ve recovered.”

“My mom knows I’m here.” Ryan is taking another sip of his OJ when I say this, and he spits it out, his eyes going wide. “Not with you. I don’t think my dad mentioned he gave you the key. And I asked her not to tell him where I am.”

“He would try to kill me if he knew we were here alone together.”

“Nah.” I wave him off, taking a bite of my yummy food. “I’m an adult. Plus, I’m mourning. It’s been a rough year. He would just be glad I’m finally attempting to move forward.”

“I’d rather not find out.”

“Well, hopefully my mom doesn’t tell him.” I pick up our empty plates and bring them to the sink. “So, where are we going?”