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Chapter Five
Brett
I probably shouldn’t admit it, but I was having fun. I had seen more of that old fire in Hannah’s eyes today than I had in far too long. I couldn’t deny that the blowjob she’d given me had been incredible, but what really had me grinning was remembering how cute she’d been when she’d given me that sassy salute. Though she’d whined and moaned, she’d been a trouper on our run. Did I expect her to be so compliant every day? Hell, no. I knew her too well. This was the ‘honeymoon stage’ where she’d do her best not to get in trouble. I’d seen her roll her eyes more than once and had pretended ignorance, but if that became a habit, I’d nip it in the bud—or more precisely, I’d nip her butt.
“Feel better?” I asked as Hannah walked into the kitchen, moving to wrap my arms around her.
“Well, I don’t stink anymore,” she said.
Burying my nose in the blonde tresses that cascaded down her back, I inhaled deeply. “No, you definitely don’t. You smell like lemons.” Kissing the top of her head, I pulled back. “Ready for breakfast?”
“I normally don’t eat breakfast, but I’d love more coffee.”
I poured her a fresh cup, and while she took a seat at the table, I spooned oatmeal into a bowl. Dropping the last of the bread into the toaster, I took her bowl to her. When she turned up her nose, I grinned. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, so don’t knock it until you try it. You can doctor it up if you want.” I pushed the small bowls of sliced strawberries, whole blueberries, slivered almonds, and brown sugar closer to her. Fixing my own bowl and bringing the toast to the table, I sat down and was pleased to see that she was eating.
“What would you like to do today?” I asked, taking my own bite.
“Take a nap.”
Slathering my toast with jam, I said, “Babe, you just got up. Let’s wait until mid-afternoon at least.”
She took another bite of her oatmeal and then answered. “We’ve talked about starting a garden. Maybe we can work on that?”
Nodding, I leaned back in my chair, finishing my own coffee. “That’s a plan. Finish up and we’ll run to the home improvement center. I don’t think we can do it all in one weekend, but we can make a good start.”
* * *
For someone who’d wanted to crawl back into bed, Hannah’s mind was still going a hundred miles a minute. On the way to Home Depot, she’d decided that a full-blown garden might not be the best idea, reminding me that I could be given new orders at any time.
“It would be a waste of time and energy tilling and fencing and planting only to find that we won’t be around to harvest.”
I couldn’t disagree as this was the third base I’d been stationed at and knew there were more moves in my future. “So, what’s Plan B?”
“A container garden,” she said instantly. “We can get all sorts of pretty pots and plant in them instead. Oh, and I’ve always wanted to try a hanging garden. Can we do that?”
Some pots, a few bags of dirt, a variety of seed packets sounded far easier than digging up half our backyard. “Sure, and speaking of hanging, how about a porch swing? That way we can sit outside with our coffee every morning and watch all the squirrels, rabbits, and birds steal our bounty.”
She swatted my arm, but giggled, and I knew I’d give her whatever she wanted. I had missed that sound as well as the excitement that practically had her bouncing up and down the aisle as she made her choices of containers. Leaving her to it, I found a swing and had an associate help me strap the box to the top of the car. Rejoining Hannah, I found she’d filled one flatbed cart full of pots and bags of soil. I pushed it out of the store, Hannah following with another cart with plants of various sizes. My wife had to peer through green foliage to see where she was going.
“I thought we were going with seeds,” I said, pushing buttons to lower the seats in our Suburban to give me a flat surface to put all our purchases.
“Oh, I got some of those too, but this way we have instant gratification. I can practically taste the tomatoes we’ll have soon,” she said, handing me two red wire cages that would support the plants as they grew. “The next time I eat oatmeal, it will be with strawberries picked from our own hanging garden. Just think of the money we’ll save. We won’t have to go to the commissary to get fresh vegetables.”
Loading more plants into the car, I grinned. “And when I shoot those rabbits who raid the cabbage patch, you can throw them into the pot as well.”
“Ewww, I’m not going to eat some poor little bunny!”
I didn’t care about the military frowning on PDAs—public displays of affection—she was just too cute not to grab and kiss. Granted, I’d meant for it to be just a quick smack, but the moment she melted against me, my cock rose to stand at attention. Releasing her, I saw that she was well aware of the affect she’d had on me.
“I hope you paid for that big zucchini in your pocket, Major. I would so hate to have to bail my husband out of the brig.”
Grinning, I shook my head. “Maybe an up close and personal inspection of that zucchini will remind you that you are an army wife, not a navy swabbie, recruit. Brigs are on ships.”
“Your command is my wish, sir,” she said, purposely skewing the phrase. “After all, you are the officer in charge.”
Damn straight I was. We finished loading and every time our fingers brushed as she passed me something, I swear there were sparks popping between us. Once in the car, the smell of plants and soil and manure seemed to bring out my baser nature. She’d thought I was prepping her for a bit of kinky sex last night, which I hadn’t been. But as an officer, I was used to making multiple contingency plans. I’d tossed that blanket over her last night to preserve her modesty. Today I planned on tossing her down on it and having her squirming like a little earthworm.
“Why are we stopping here?” she asked as I pulled into another parking lot. “I thought you were tired of fast food.”
