Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs by Sharon Hamilton Page A

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 enough 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