All Tommy has ever cared about is being a SEAL and the best captain for his team, but on a run along the glistening coast of San Diego an odd beauty needs his help, and Tommy finds himself locking lips with the woman who would change his life foreve...
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It's incredibly noisy and busy. I look for my gate as I nervously tap my foot on the San Francisco International Airport floor. I'm a mess. I hate flying. It's my biggest fear, but I needed to go to this veterinarian conference where I learned all about abdominal ultrasounds and different techniques.
My hands shake when I find my gate number on the screen and follow the signs. I weave through the crowd and feel my anxiety climbing.
God, I hate flying.
I barely made it on the flight here. The girl next to me kept complaining to the steward that I was going to barf on her... I did.
It was embarrassing.
It's weird because I love the ocean, I love swimming, sailing, deep sea fishing, scuba diving... you name it, I do it. But flying... I just flat out hate it. I'm that person that clutches onto the chair's arms, with my eyes screwed shut and praying to the good Lord that I don't die.
I see my gate number and head towards the section where people are sitting, waiting patiently. I take a seat, clutching my bag into my sternum, and my legs ache from my shaking. I probably look suspicious...like there's a bomb in my little Vera Bradley backpack.
Taking deep even breaths, I whisper, "You're in the ocean doing the butterfly stroke against the waves." For a second, I swear I can taste the salty water. My usual approach to calming myself isn't working, though, so I go on to something else. "When I get back, I need to go see Cynthia Richter and check on her dog's amputated leg."
This isn't working either.
Okay, think Peyton...
I close my eyes to wander through my brain, looking for anything that can help with my oncoming panic attack, but it doesn't work. Instead, I glance around at people, and my eyes stop on an older-looking guy leaning on a post with a military duffle bag. He's thumbing through something on his phone and looking bored with everything and everyone. I notice girls eyeing him as they walk by, but he pays them no mind.
My heart picks up speed when the guy causes a memory from six months ago to come to mind.
I was at the beach in my normal spot and heard a scream, saved two kids, and then got harassed by a group of guys. I had no idea why those Hollywood boys had hit on me. I'm far from the slamming body type. I have no curves, and my face is plain, I also, almost always, wear my hair up in a messy bun.
I'm not bad-looking, I'm just normal.
Then, out of nowhere, this amazing.... Outstanding specimen of a man came to help me, looking like a Greek god or more like a warrior. I knew immediately he was a SEAL from his uniform pants with boots and by how he was built. Like a machine.
He was the type of guy who could have supermodels draping over him. He certainly had the women in tiny bikinis eyeballing him. He was so tall, powerful, and definitely older... my guess is that he was in his thirties.
