Duty(35)

Lindsey scoops up a suddenly protesting Lance, who waves as they leave in the cart. I let them go around the curve before hurrying off in the opposite direction. Lindsey was right. I don't have half my shopping ready, and I need to get something in my cart if I'm going to be eating anything tonight. If anything, I need some more damn milk.



My fingers shake as I look at the phone number on the piece of paper, and I wonder again if I'm doing the right thing. My heart and body are saying one thing, and my brain is saying another. I've been lonely for too long. I haven't even gone on a date past a couple of group things with other junior officers on post in the past six months, and seeing Lindsey, I know what I want. I want her. Seeing her just reignited the burning ache that's been sitting inside me for all these years.

But that's the problem. I want her, and I can't have her. Hell, I don't know if she even wants me still. Sure, maybe I saw something in the commissary, or maybe my imagination was filling in gaps that weren't there. What can't be argued is that triple chevron that rests in the middle of her chest, or the butter bar still in the middle of mine.

But I have to know, even if it's dangerous. Even if I just talk to her this one time. I have to find out. I have to ask questions that have haunted me for four years, and more importantly, the questions that have been running around my head for the past two hours.

Finally, I tap in her phone number, hoping that she picks up. The phone rings two, three times . . . “Hello?”

“Lindsey? It's . . . it's Aaron.”

There's fear and worry in her voice, but also a bit of what sounds like relief too. “Aaron. I wasn't sure if I was going to pick up or not.”

“I wasn't sure if I was going to call or not,” I admit, sighing. “The idea kinda scared the hell out of me.”

“I know what you mean,” Lindsey says, letting out a shaky laugh. “Seeing you today was like seeing a ghost.”

“I hope I'm a little livelier than that,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Lindsey's chuckle is more relaxed, and I find myself leaning back onto my couch, my body thrilling at the sound. It feels like the old days again, and I relax a little bit more. “Yeah, I guess so. I'm sorry if I surprised you.”

“You gave me a lot of surprises,” I tell her. “And to be honest, I've got about a hundred thousand questions running around in my head.”

“I figured. I could see it in your eyes. If it helps any, I've had my own questions, and there have been things I've wanted to tell you,” Lindsey says, her voice dropping. I don't know if she's doing it intentionally, but she's back in that sexy, throaty whispering purr that used to drive me crazy when we dated, the voice she used when we were making out in the woods, her fingernails dragging down my back, and my cock twitches at the memory.

“I know it's dangerous, but I have to see you,” I tell her. “These questions, some of them aren't the type that should be asked over the phone while I'm sitting in my ACU pants and wondering if I can wear them for work tomorrow for Sergeant's Time.”

“I live on post, Aaron. There's no way that you could come by and not be noticed.”

“That's okay,” I hastily reply. “I rent a house off post. It's in a quiet neighborhood, and there isn't another soldier in my entire block. Hell, my neighbors are two gay guys, and the house on the other side next to me is empty.”

“I don't know, Aaron. It feels . . . dangerous,” Lindsey says. “And I don't mean because of the Army regulation issues.”

“I know,” I reply. “But Lindsey . . . I think this is something that has to be done. Bring Lance, and I'll set up the little gas grill I've got. I'll make some food. Are you single?”

“I am,” Lindsey says, then chuckles. “A good man is hard to find as a single mom.”

“A good man . . .” I muse, thinking how that saying could be switched so easily. A good woman is hard to find, too. “So, what do you say? Civvies. I'll make sure to pick up my dirty t-shirts, and if you're lucky, my socks too.”

Lindsey laughs, another little thrill running down my body as she does. “Okay, okay, how can I turn that down? Saturday afternoon, say one o'clock?”

“That's great,” I reply. “So . . . what does Lance like to eat? I assume he can eat barbecue food?”

“Keep it mild, but if you pick up the stuff to make cheeseburgers, he's a happy camper. Put cheddar on it, and he'll be your best friend for life.”

“Cheddar it is then. Any other requests?”

“Yeah,” Lindsey says softly. “No sugary stuff. I like putting him down for a nap on weekends around two thirty or so for an hour, and I think you might want some privacy for your questions. Mine too.”

“Well, it might not be his bed at home, but this couch of mine is soft and fluffy. In fact, I rack out on it often. I'm sure he'll like it,” I tell her, running my hand over my comforter from my Academy days. This 'green girl' has seen a lot of nights wrapped around my shoulders. “So how about instead of one, maybe twelve thirty? I'd like to talk to him a little more.”

“We'll see, Aaron,” Lindsey says. “But I'll see you Saturday. What's your address?”