The Best of Us (Love in Isolation 2)

I notice Ryan isn’t on the couch anymore and wonder where he went. The kitchen is empty, so I grab a Pop-Tarts, then return to my side of the couch.

As I slowly eat, Ryan returns wearing gray sweatpants and a T-shirt this time. Too bad. He has nice abs.

“Morning,” he says groggily. I can tell he’s still tired. “Please tell me I’m not the only one with a hangover.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Nope. Please tell me you brought meds.”

“I sure did.” He walks over and drops two white pills in my palm. “I’ll grab some water.”

“Thanks,” I say softly, wondering if he remembers what position we were in this morning. His hooded eyes tell me he’s still half-asleep and probably doesn’t.

Ryan returns with two bottles of water, gives me one, then sits on his side of the couch. Though I’m covered with blankets, I’m shivering. When he notices, he stands and puts a couple more logs on the fire.

“Think we’ll get power today?” I ask optimistically.

“Not sure. I’ll turn on my phone and check for updates.”

As he does that, I swallow down the meds, then continue eating.

“Eli and Cami texted me and said there’s more heavy snow coming.”

“Great,” I mutter. “Another night on the couch.”

While I don’t mind, I’d rather sleep in a warm bed and be able to flush the damn toilet. And have a hot meal.

“It’s only been twenty-four hours,” Ryan says, chuckling. “At least the couch is comfortable.”

I blush thinking about how his erection was saluting me this morning. Especially the way he pushed himself into me and moaned.

Fuck, I gotta stop thinking about that or he’s going to wonder my face is red.

“That’s true. Plus the fire gives a nice cozy feeling.”

“The plows won’t be coming down the private road for a while but hopefully the crews can fix whatever power lines are down.” His tone changes as if it just hit him that we can’t leave today.

“You okay?” I ask and turn toward him.

He brushes a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, which is hot as hell. Even sexier is his facial hair. I wouldn’t mind him scratching my thighs with his jaw.

“Just frustrated and worried I’ll get penalized for being gone.”

“You work a ton of hours, they should be happy you’re taking some time off. It’s good for your mental health,” I tell him matter-of-factly.

“Staying busy is better,” he retorts.

I can think of something to keep us both busy but I don’t say that aloud. At least not now.

“Are you hungry?” I ask. “I can try to make something.” Though my head is still throbbing a little, I hate seeing him like this. Perhaps getting some food in his stomach will help him from worrying so much.

“You don’t have to—”

“Let me!” I pop up and immediately regret it. A dizzy spell hits me and Ryan stands, then grabs my arms.

“Whoa, you okay?”

Blinking at him and noticing how close we are, I nod. My face flushes with embarrassment but the way he holds me doesn’t go unnoticed, and I wonder if he feels the connection too.

“I’m fine, just stood too fast.” I stay rooted in place and wait for him to make a move or run away.

“I’ll go with you to the kitchen and make sure you don’t pass out or something,” he teases, then flashes a wink. “Plus, I’m pretty sure our options are limited anyway.”

“Yeah…” I blow out a breath when he releases me. We go to the pantry and look at the shelves.

“Peanut butter and apples.” He reaches in and grabs the jar.

I look up at him in shock. “You eat PB and apples too?”

“Yeah, it’s the best snack, especially when I only have a couple of minutes between patients.”

Smiling, I agree. “Cami always teased me for snacking like a kindergartner, but there’s just something about it…”

“It’s sweet and salty.”

“Yes!” I laugh. “The perfect combination.”

I grab the apples off the counter and cut two into slices, then put them on a plate. While I do that, Ryan scoops peanut butter into a bowl and we both go back to the couch.

We set everything on the coffee table and share.

After a few minutes, it grows awkward, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

“So, guess we’re both lightweights, huh?” I say, easing into the conversation.

“Pretty much. Though to be fair, when I do have a drink, it’s usually beer. I don’t have time to go to a bar and get shit-faced.”

“Oh you should,” I cackle. “It’s pretty fun when you’re with a bunch of your girlfriends.”

He pops a brow at me and I burst out laughing.

“Well, I’ve only done that a few times since the bars opened up again. Otherwise I usually just drink wine or have a margarita for lunch.”

“For lunch?” he asks.

“You can’t go to a Mexican restaurant without having a margarita, especially with chips and salsa. It’d be a sin not to.”