Free The SEAL’s Secret Lover by Anne Calhoun

said. “Running herself into the ground won’t help her handle it.”
    “And she’s always been able to handle it,” Grannie said. “Look, there she is.”
    Everyone looked up as Rose walked into the dining room. For five seconds Keenan let himself appreciate the way she moved. She wore her staple leggings and boots, with a creamy shirt decorated with flowers at the neckline, and another swingy cardigan, this one in a shade of brown that set off her hair.
    She saw them looking at her, lifted a hand, and gave a little wave. “Morning,” she said as she set her shoulder bag on an empty chair. “Can I get anyone anything from the buffet?”
    The Babes had switched to Rumi, and shook their heads.
    “I’ll get coffee,” Keenan said.
    She lifted a brow at his full plate, remembering his sharply delineated muscles. “Must be nice”
    “I went for a run this morning,” he replied.
    “I can’t even,” she said.
    He got coffee for her while she ladled out a bowl of the traditional lentil soup, spritzed it with lemon, then added a side of dates and pastries. “Thanks,” she said when she sat down and saw the coffee waiting for her.
    “So. Konya.”
    “The home of Rumi and the birthplace of Sufism,” Keenan said. “We should get to the museum when it opens. The later it gets, the more packed it will be.”
    “Do we have a guide joining us?”
    “Not here,” Keenan said. “According to my research the museum is well organized. I can handle the architecture.”
    “How much time do we have?”
    “It’s seven hours to Ephesus,” Keenan said. “I’d like to be on the road by early afternoon.”
    Rose delicately sipped her soup, then looked at her grandmother. “I don’t want to rush her. Rumi is her favorite poet. This particular stop means the most to her.”
    “Understood,” he said.
    “Have you seen the museum?”
    “No,” he said. “I’ve been based out of Istanbul for a few months, but I haven’t done much sightseeing.”
    “I’m glad you could come,” she said. “It seems a shame to live so close to so much history and not visit it.”
    He finished his mouthful of su böreği . “I’ve gotten to know Istanbul fairly well,” he said. “Plenty of history there.”
    She swallowed the last mouthful of soup. “I really need to get a good recipe for that soup,” she said. “But you haven’t been to Troy?”
    “No.”
    “It’s just a few hours from Istanbul,” she said, her tone making the statement an interrogative.
    The ancient site of Troy was close enough for a day trip, as close as his fears. “I’ve read The Iliad so many times I’m not sure I want to replace that with the reality of an archaeological dig,” he admitted.
    Her gaze sharpened. For a moment he thought she was going to call him on his bullshit, but instead she said, “Grannie really wants to go to Troy. Is this going to be a problem? Because I can hire another driver or guide.”
    “No,” he said firmly. “I’m good.”
    “I started the book last night,” she said. “That’s why I was late coming down.”
    His eyebrow ghosted up just a millimeter or two.
    She pulled the book out of her shoulder bag and showed him the sheet of hotel stationery she was using as a bookmark. “‘Now’s the time for killing! Later, at leisure, strip the corpses up and down the plain!’ I’ve watched Jack play Call of Duty , but this is something else entirely.”
    “It’s personal,” he said. “It’s intensely personal. It begins over a woman and ends over a best friend.”
    “I couldn’t put it down,” she said quietly.
    He wasn’t sure what to make of the look in her eye. The only thing he knew for sure was that, based on the shadows under them, she’d fall asleep in the Land Rover, probably ten minutes out of Konya.
    “Ready?” he said with a look at his watch. The Babes were already packing up.
    Rose knocked back the rest of her coffee. “Let’s go.”
    The GPS navigated them right to the museum, where