Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs

by Sharon Hamilton

  “Not now?”

  “Nope. You gotta wait. And I’m gonna enjoy seeing you wait.”

  She pulled his hands from between her legs and made him feel her satin bra.

  “I like this very much.”

  “You get me when you can remove it with your teeth, but not until then. And not until we get back to the Inn.” She removed his hands and slowly raised her body up and off his still-glistening and stiff cock. She reached down into her bag and brought out another tee shirt and gently dried him.

  “There. Good as new,” she whispered, delivering a devilish look that hooked his heart again.

  His knees were weak. He struggled but eventually got his pants back on. His boxers were still bunched up somewhere and he was fairly certain his waistband was lodged somewhere down around his mid thighs, extending up into his scrotum. He’d take a leak and straighten it when he got to the house.

  “Okay, you finally ready, little one?” he said as he slid over to the driver’s seat.

  She sat smugly back, unlocked the seatbelt and pulled it across her chest. The strap was a little too tight against the tits he wouldn’t be able to sample for a few hours. He expelled a sigh before he could mask it.

  “Lizzie, I confess, maybe I’m too old for you.”

  “Come on, Jameson. Three years? That isn’t too old.”

  He tore his gaze from hers and started the truck. “So what’s your secret? Where’d you learn all that stuff?” he said as he pulled into the gravel roadway at last.

  “I know a good opportunity when I see, or rather hear one. I think we should have sex every time we think about it. That way, our marriage will stay strong.”

  “It’s gonna stay strong, even if we couldn’t have sex. But dayam! You’re blowing my mind, girl.”

  She faced straight ahead but he could seep the beginnings of a grin she couldn’t hide. She was pleased with herself. Finally she turned and faced him. “You know how you talked about all those girls who stopped by your hotel room night after night?”

  He nodded in her direction, but quickly eyed the road, not sure where this was going.

  “Have you ever figured it out how many women you’ve slept with?”

  “No. I have no interest in that. Especially now.”

  “But haven’t you ever tried to figure it out, like do the math?”

  “Hell no. Why would I do that?”

  “So it didn’t mean anything to you?”

  Now he was in a real box. If he said no, then he wasn’t one of the good guys. If he said it did, then he’d just admitted he’d been a man whore. The winery couldn’t come fast enough. He squinted, looking through the poplar trees to see if he could find it and save himself.

  “Jameson, answer me.”

  This was frustrating. He stopped the truck. An old Ford beater pickup barreled out from between the vines, a dusty trail obscuring their view for nearly a minute. If he hadn’t stopped, the truck might have hit him.

  “Lizzie, why is all this coming up now? We’ve just—” he was going to say “fucked our brains out,” but knew he had to take a more conciliatory tone. He leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek, guiding a golden ringlet behind her ear. “Honey, don’t I make you happy?”

  Her eyes got big. “Yes! Oh my God, Jameson, of course you do. Why would you think that?”

  “That was my past, sweetheart. You are my future.”

  “But you asked me about…what I was doing, and I thought—”

  Then it hit him. She felt like she had to compete with all those women who had come before. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one in the whole damned world for me. If I didn’t feel that way, I’d have never married you. Why tie you up, if I’m going to run around on you right and left? What would be the point? So I could debase myself and let you down?”

  “Did you run around on your girlfriends?”

  “Honestly, Lizzie, I don’t know why you have to keep bringing all this up. I’m taken. I’m done for. I belong to you, fair and square. There’s no hesitation on my part here, and God, I hope there isn’t any on your side. You’re my woman until the day I die. Don’t go thinking about the past. It won’t do any of us good.”

  Her smile was warm, and he could see she was comfortable with the discussion. “You get me wrong, Jameson. I decided I would take the challenge.”

  “What challenge?” Now he was getting worried again.

  “I decided I’d have you so sexually active with me you wouldn’t have time to think about anybody else.”

  He chuckled, not sure he heard her straight.

  “So, I’ve been watching movies, you know, those kinds with guys and girls doing it?”

  “Porn. You’ve been watching porn.”

  “Yes. Think of it as training.” She examined her fingernails and blushed. “I kind of like them.”

  This took him aback. He never thought of Lizzie as being this adventurous. Her nipples had knotted, showing under her quivering shirt. God, he’d just promised he wouldn’t touch her until they got home, and he was already trying to figure out a way to get around that promise.

  She faced him honestly, and without a bit of self-consciousness, she said, “I want you to do some of those things to me.”

  “What things?”

  “Things with toys, you know, those rubbery things in bright colors.”

  He knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Have you done that with girls a lot?”

  He cleared his throat. He looked for an out, but there wasn’t one. “Lizzie, I didn’t do that very much, no. You have to understand, I dated a lot of women just for what I thought would be fun. But in the end, it wasn’t fun. I mean, it just didn’t last. It felt good at the time, especially getting my ego stroked, as well as—” He swallowed hard and continued. “I can count on one hand the girls I remember. You were always at the top of that list. As God is my witness, Lizzie, you were. You always have been.”

  He took her left hand, and cradled it between his, fingering her diamond. “This means something to me. This isn’t about sex. This is about being together for the rest of our lives. This is forever,” he said as he held her hand up. He kissed her ring. “I belong to you forever and forever.”

  Their lips touched. “Forever, Jameson.”

  “Absolutely, forever.” He turned the motor over, and pulled out into the roadway again.

  “One more thing, though.”

  “Lizzie—”

  “I still want you to use sex toys on me. But I get to pick them out, okay?”

  Jameson couldn’t figure out if he was incredibly lucky or incredibly stupid. But one thing was for sure, he was going to have a good time tonight, and he prayed she would feel the same. He’d make it his mission, just like yesterday and last night. His job was to make sure she never had to worry one minute about where she stood in his life. He didn’t want her to feel an ounce of inadequacy. She was way more woman than he expected, and off the charts when it came to what he deserved.

  Chapter 7

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  Lizzie wasn’t sure what she expected, but the winery the SEALs were in contract on didn’t look like a real winery. It looked like an old house in need of repair in the middle of a vineyard. There was no tasting room. No fancy signage and no tour buses like she’d seen at wineries down south and in North Carolina. In fact, they were the only people on the property, other than the worker they’d almost collided with. There was a four-door truck next to the house with the wraparound porch. A wooden screen door opened and out stepped Captain Hook. She’d met him for the first time at the wedding yesterday.

  The tall dark-haired man with the black eye patch was even dressed in knee high black boots. On inspection, she noticed they were muck boots like she used to wear cleaning the stalls at the horse farm. It was the khaki pants and long-sleeved white work shirt with the eye patch that gave him the rogue pirate look.

  “Hey Zak!” Jameson said as he leaned out the driver window, extending
his arm. The pirate shook his hand enthusiastically.

  “Glad you made it. Was wondering if you’d changed your mind.” He winked at Lizzie. The man, just like all of Jameson’s friends who were on Kyle’s squad, either former or current active duty SEALs, was handsome with a quiet, confident demeanor and a powerful body built for action. Zak had recently been detached from SEAL Team 3 due to his eye injury. “Nice to see you again, Lizzie.”

  “You too.” She found it easy to smile in front of the handsome former SEAL. “Is Amy here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Coffee’s on. You guys have breakfast yet?”

  “Yes,” Lizzie said just as Jameson said, “No.”

  Zak gave them a long, penetrating look. “I completely understand. Let’s get you inside, and I’ll show you what we’ve done.”

  Lizzie followed the two men. The porch steps were sagging, several years past replacement time. As they entered the wood-paneled living room adorned with lace curtains, smells from the kitchen were mouthwatering. Amy shed her apron and ran to give her a big hug.

  “You look even prettier today than you did in your white gown. So glad you took the time to come see our little project.”

  “So this is where you two live?”

  “Yes, we just moved in last month. The escrow has been opened. We’ve got a strict timeline to meet, and we’re spending more time on business plans and discussions about hiring staff with money we don’t have than actually making wine.”

  “One good thing about grapes, they grow no matter what, as long as you give them enough water and tend them.” Zak held up his hands, showing off three fingers that were bandaged. “I can testify that cluster thinning is an art and a damned difficult one, too. Twelve-year-old Mexican kids work circles around me, and I don’t think they’ve cut themselves since they were old enough to prune.”

  Amy laughed, slipping her arm around her husband’s waist. “Come on, Zak, they just don’t think you can see. You’ve lost your depth perception with only one eye.” She planted a kiss on his lips and then addressed Lizzie again. “They’re very superstitious, and the children are afraid of him.” She drew him to her side again. “If they only knew what a pushover he is, especially around a golf course.”

  Lizzie wasn’t sure what inside joke this was, but she’d ask Jameson later. Zak was actually blushing.

  “Come, let’s sit and have some coffee. I made some scones too.” Amy directed them to the hand-hewn dining table that could seat twelve easily. They occupied the four seats at the end, two across from each other. Zak and Amy waited on them with the coffee, adding the fresh blueberry scones and butter to the table.

  After Zak sat down, he held the plate of scones to her. “You know, Coop and Libby brought their brood over here last weekend, and the staff called little Gillian “Diablita.” She was into everything and nearly caused a cascading wine bottle mishap that could have buried her.

  “They must think we’re nuts,” said Jameson.

  “True. Old Mr. Santos was apparently a very strange bird. He had a very public brawl with the next-door neighbor. You’d recognize him. He’s Marco Zapparelli. He directed all those zombie decapitation films.”

  “Oh, Lord. Don’t ever tell Alex and especially Sydney. She turns into a wild woman-beast when she gets a whiff of a zombie movie.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  “Anyway,” Zak began, “Maybe we could do a run over there so I can show you what a world class operation looks like.”

  “Yea, with someone who has millions to spend, which we won’t and probably never will have,” added Amy.

  “From what I hear, it’s a trophy winery. It’s all about branding, finding your niche. That way they won’t mind so much if the wines aren’t good,” said Jameson.

  “Except their wines have won shows all over the world. They’re really excellent.”

  “LA County Fair? San Francisco?”

  “Very good, Jameson. Yes, they’ve taken gold in both.” Amy winked at her.

  Lizzie was surprised he knew so much about the business. “That’s very impressive.” He accepted her praise with a grin, followed by a kiss.

  “You’re very impressive this morning, Mrs. Daniels,” Jameson murmered.

  “Okay, you guys. Let’s keep it clean—for now!” Zak laughed, his arm around his wife. “It’s great to have you two here. Want you to work on those guys on your deployment, Jameson, get them to commit. We could do this. Not like the neighbor, of course, but with a little luck and some investment, I really think we got something.”

  “I intend to. I think most of them are already in.”

  “You thought up a name for the winery yet?” Lizzie couldn’t wait for the answer.

  “Oh, sure. We’ve got Frog Heaven, or Haven. There’s Vintage Toad.”

  “Vintage Trident?” Jameson offered.

  “I like that!” Amy was animated.

  They threw out some other names, most of them jokes, like Bottles and Bullets.

  “You could do Pirate Port, if you make port, that is,” Lizzie added. “You could do a lot with that theme.”

  “Pirates and SEALs and the Navy—all go together perfectly, my dear,” said Jameson, hugging her tight against his side. “You’re pretty good at name-calling. But then, I like just about anything that little mouth of yours does.”

  “Jameson!” Lizzie was seriously embarrassed. She could feel her cheeks flush.

  “Okay, troops. I think we’re in need of some serious distraction. Let’s round up these dishes and go look at some dirt.” Zak was still shaking his head as he took his and Amy’s dishes to the sink, then came back to clear the rest of the condiments. Lizzie wasn’t looking at Jameson, who kept trying to get her attention, and gave her laughing apologies. She waited until her cheeks settled down before speaking to him.

  “You just wait. I’m going to get even, Jameson.”

  He put his hand over his heart. “I’m all yours.” He followed it up with a wink, grabbed her and pulled her to him. Whispering in her ear, he added, “Seriously, Lizzie. I gotta get you to one of those stores. Haven’t been able to think about anything else. I think you’re ready.”

  “You think?” She tried to back away from his kisses, easing to the side as he pressed his groin against her lower belly.

  “I know it.”

  Zak drove up to the back door in a two-seater all-wheel drive Kubota, with music blaring. It only took a few bars before Lizzie recognized one of Jameson’s songs.

  “Holy cow, Zak. This thing plays music?” Jameson was duly impressed.

  “Of course, and it plays right from my iPhone. I installed two extra speakers in the canopy just for my own sanity. You like?”

  “What’s not to like?”

  Lizzie settled into Jameson’s chest as the ride took them on dirt trails winding through the vineyards. Steam was still rose from the soil, which just added to the magic.

  “You can see that most the grapes are green still. They’ll begin to turn here in the next month, depending on the variety.”

  “Are you going to change out some of the vines?” Jameson shouted out over his own song.

  “Not sure yet. We’re waiting for the report from the expert. We’ve got our eye on a couple of winemakers and want their input too.”

  Amy spoke next. “My dad’s retired Chief of Police. All the retired guys want to be involved. Some of them make pretty good wine in their own garages. We’ll be letting them have their pick, since we don’t have a contract.”

  “Contract?” Lizzie asked.

  “You have to sell the wine in advance of the harvest, well at least that’s what’s usually done,” said Zak. “We’ll be working on contracts for next year.” He looked at Amy, and they nodded together in agreement. “Thinking positively that we can finish raising the money.”

  “You gonna actually make money at this, Zak?” Jameson asked.

  “Hardly. Not the first few years at least. So we’ve set up a little stipend—just en
ough to pay for the rent here, the bills, and give us a little spending money. Amy’s father has helped, too. When I say a little, it rivals what we got paid on the Teams.”

  Jameson had to second that. Money was going to be tight. He and Lizzie had had that talk. No vacations or trips anywhere for a while after he got his active duty pay. His signing bonus was used cleaning up some of his bills and adding what he could to defray the cost of the wedding. There was little left. It would be six years before he could get another one. Lizzie told him she was looking for part-time work, and although he didn’t like it, hoped Charlotte could be watched by one of the other SEAL wives while Lizzie found the part-time teaching job she wanted.

  They stopped the vehicle and stepped out onto the vineyard floor. With sun on her face, the gentle breeze lacing through the green leaves spilling over stations and crawling along wires, the distant call of a hawk treading air, Jameson could tell Lizzie felt her destiny was here in this valley. It wasn’t North Carolina. It wasn’t San Diego. Jameson wove his fingers through hers as they walked, he wanted to remind her that this was not only her future, but his and Charlotte’s futures too.

  Zapparelli Winery loomed above the hills like a giant copper and stucco crystal. The green patina on roofs of the two main grand halls, connected by the tasting room and restaurant overlooking the Dry Creek Valley, made the whole site look like an old Italian villa—a very expensive Italian villa fit for a king. Amy explained that Zapparelli was known to the community as a good guy, often underwriting events benefiting the schools, women’s groups and other non-profit enterprises, but a vampire of a businessman when it came to protecting his own. The fact that he’d never contributed to the Police Benevolent Association, a sore spot to several of the retired officers on her father’s force, made their interest in the adjoining property more keen.

  “We think his attitude stems from his college years in San Francisco,” said Amy.

  “So that would spill over to the military?” Jameson asked as they climbed the enormous white steps to the tasting and showroom.