7.
The results were in. "Omelet a la O'Neill" was excellent. The Colonel… Jack… honestly could cook. And, now that she was a homeowner herself, she realized that she loved his house. It was warm and welcoming, relaxed and informal, not what one would expect given his demeanor at the SGC. The kitchen was especially interesting; the set-up was great.
She thought about it, wondering if there was a way she could replicate some of the design in her remodel, particularly the placement of the stove in the island that took up most of the middle of the room. It made a lot of sense; you could get at all of the burners at once from various directions. Probably made for a great room for entertaining. And the windows here were spectacular as well. Lots of glass, opening into what was a lovely garden behind them. The Colonel… Jack… wasn't very interested in flowers as far as she could see.
She shuddered, trying to imagine the Colonel planting pansies. The idea was too horrific to contemplate. But the bushes were really fantastic, at least in fall. There was a dark red bush over to the right that was truly stunning.
"Earth to Carter."
"I -- sorry, si.. Jack. Breakfast was terrific. Thanks."
"And you were on what planet?"
"Uh, pretty sure I'm on Earth today, sir."
"Ahh--"'
"Jack."
He grinned. "So what's the story, Carter? You've been happily chittering away about your house for the last thirty minutes and then you suddenly blanked-out on me. View this as a helpful comment from a neighbor who's wondering about your sanity."
She looked up at that. "I don't chitter."
He raised his eyes to the ceiling, picking up the plates and stashing them in his dishwasher. "Of course you don't."
"I don't."
He groaned. "Carter, I didn't even know the meaning of the word until I met you. Trust me. You chitter when you're happy or excited. It's cute."
She bristled. Damn, he always knew exactly what to say to annoy her, and she knew he did it deliberately. But she couldn't stop herself from rising to the bait.
"I am not cute."
He threw the remainders of their breakfast into the garbage, moving through the kitchen. "True. You're incredibly beautiful."
Whoah. She stared at him, shocked, not sure how to take the comment, but somehow a warm glow settled in. When he turned to look at her, she knew he was clearly appalled and somewhat shocked as well at what he'd said.
He cleared his throat. "Carter, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
Her expression must have been confused, because he continued. "Oh, hell. I don't mean that I didn't mean what I said, I just meant that I'm sorry I mentioned it. It's not like you're being incredibly beautiful isn't a well known fact, or anything, because it is."
"What?"
"But I-- damn." He swallowed. "Is there any possible way I can get out of this without getting a completely justified harassment suit filed against me? I meant the comment as a casual statement, nothing more."
He was clearly totally flustered. She smiled. She had never, ever, seen the Colonel this flustered before. Not ever. It was great.
She considered his question, and decided to turn the tables. He had spent the last three weeks teasing her about her house, after all.
"Might be a way."
"Thanks." He looked relieved, and apologetic at first, but something in her expression must have given her away, because his expression turned to one of suspicion.
"You're not upset at all, " he commented accusingly.
She grinned. "I've been called worse things than 'incredibly beautiful', and yes, I know what you meant, and that you didn't… uh… mean it. It's ok, Jack. I understand."
But he still looked worried, so she tried to lighten the moment by mimicking his jokes." And while it's possible that I may be known to 'chitter' upon occasion, you are well-known to engage in the 'insert foot into mouth and watch what happens' scenario with relish pretty frequently."
He looked annoyed. She backtracked. Maybe teasing your CO was not a good idea. "Uhh… sir. Sorry, sir."
He grinned. "'Jack', Carter, and thanks for letting me off the hook."
"So, what's the payment?"
"What?" She wasn't quite sure where they were in the conversation. But talking to the Colonel tended to do that to one.
"You said there might be a way I could make it up to you."
"Uhh, yeah." She thought about it. Might as well go for the whole nine yards. "Can I borrow your truck?"
"Nope."
"Oh, well, ok, then."
"Carter, the truck and I are a combo. No one drives the truck except me. However, given that I do want to apologize, you can borrow both of us. What do you have in mind?"
"Bushes."
"Excuse me?"
"I need to get a handle on the grounds around my house. So, first I wanted to head out to the hardware store and buy some equipment -- pruners, stuff like that. And, I want to put in some new bushes." She gestured towards his backyard, and to the deep red bush she'd admired earlier. "Like that one." She paused, thinking. "I can get most of the equipment into the Volvo, but to bring home bushes I need a truck."
The Colonel looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Have you ever pruned or planted anything?"
She grimaced. "Well, no, but I've been reading about it and it can't be that tough." She paused, defending herself. "And now is the right time to prune and plant, before the frosts."
Jack grinned. "True."
She stared at him suspiciously. "I am not out of my mind. This is the right time to do structural outside work on bushes and trees, before the frosts."
He shrugged, smiling. "Of course it is."
"So, you have no problems with this plan?"
"Nope."
"Okay, what then?" Huh. This was new, and slightly unnerving. An accommodating Colonel. Very unnerving. "I'm serious, Jack. What am I missing?"
He shrugged. "You did ask, right?"
"Yes."
"Okay, but remember you asked. Do you have any idea what you want to plant, where you want to plant it, and whether your preferred plants will like where you want them to live? We have a lot of light in Colorado, but most new plantings around here require water regularly. Given the recent droughts, the city's restricting local watering to regularly scheduled times, and given we work at the SGC, we don't have the option of being very regular. The only way to keep anything alive in the west that isn't a weed or a trash tree " -- he gestured out towards his yard-- "is to set up an automatic watering system. Last time I looked, Goblin Manor didn't have good electrical, let alone an automatic system around the place. And you really ought to put that in first, before planting the bushes."
She thought about it. "So, no planting until I get in a watering system."
He shrugged. "Seems like a sensible approach."
"I can still do the pruning."
"Yeah. In fact, that is a good idea. Last time I saw your place it was seriously overgrown."
"Can I borrow you and your truck to help?"
He smiled. "Oh yeah, you betcha. The truck is ready to pick up parcels and I am willing to help prune, seeing as you've never pruned a bush before. Takes some skill."
"I suppose you're an expert on that."
"I do know a few things, Carter, and pruning is one of them."
"Uhuh." She didn't believe him.
"I'm serious. I've owned houses for nearly twenty years now in Colorado, not to mention the cabin and the land in Minnesota. I've done my share of pruning."
She looked out at his backyard, and had to admit the point. His land was beautiful.
"Why?"
"What?"
"I mean, why gardening? I wouldn't have thought that you'd care about something like that." When he looked slightly annoyed, she continued. "Don't get me wrong; your place is beautiful. But I've always thought of you as the type that hired a gardener, sir."
"Not a chance, Carter. I can tend to a few trees. Sometimes, some need a little help growing. You have to be paying attention personally to make sure that happens."
She angled her head, thinking. If she'd been a betting woman, she would have lost the bet. She'd never have predicted that the Colonel was interested in watching things grow. Which just went to prove how wrong you could sometimes be, even about people you thought you knew. Clearly, she had a lot to learn about Jack O'Neill. And that, she admitted to herself, could be fun. And consequently dangerous. Yep, could be fun.
"Carter? Hello?"
Oops. She'd lost track of the conversation again. "Sorry."
"You with me here? Because if this new house is resulting in your spacing out with regularity, maybe I should have a few words with the resident ghosts."
She grinned. "My house is not haunted."
"Whatever you say, Carter. Ready to head out for hardware?"
"Ready."
TBC…