Page 67 of Small Town Sash

"Braden?" she called out, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Kitchen," the reply came, followed by the rich aroma of coffee.

Hadley swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her peach-colored skin glowed in the morning light filtering into their on-base housing—a cozy bungalow that had become their love nest since exchanging I do's a few weeks prior. She padded across the room, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Morning, Sergeant," she teased as she entered the kitchen.

Braden stood at the stove flipping pancakes. "Mrs. Wilder-Harding," he grinned, without turning around. "You're up early."

"Early? It's almost nine."

"Exactly," he said with a mock-serious look over his shoulder. His brown eyes danced with amusement.

"Ha-ha," Hadley laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. "What's for breakfast?"

"Your favorite—chocolate chip pancakes."

"I made the right decision. You're definitely marriage material," she teased, pressing a kiss to his back.

"Good thing you put a ring on it," Braden replied, serving up a stack of pancakes onto two plates. He set one down in front of her at their small kitchen table.

"Sometimes I forget this isn't a dream," she murmured, looking around the modestly furnished space that was all theirs.

"Pinch me then," Braden chuckled, sitting across from her. "I'll prove it's real."

"Ooh, so tough." Hadley playfully pinched his arm, eliciting a feigned wince from him. "Guess we're both awake."

"Guess so." He reached for her hand across the table, his touch warm and familiar.

"Happy one year of being together, Mrs. Wilder-Harding."

"Happy one year, Mr. Harding." She squeezed his hand, the simplicity of the moment more perfect than any pageant crown she'd ever worn.

"Let's never change this," Braden said, his gaze earnest.

"Never," Hadley agreed. They ate their pancakes and drank their orange juice, laughter echoing in their little slice of heaven nestled within the heart of military life.

An hour later, Hadley clicked refresh on her laptop, a grin spreading across her lips. Numbers soared, and another dress sold. Her tiny office—a converted second bedroom in their basehousing—burst with swatches and sketches. The hum of the sewing machine was music to her entrepreneurial spirit.

"Braden, did you see this?" she called out, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Footsteps approached, and then Braden appeared in the doorway, his uniform crisp, the insignia of his rank catching the light. Dash sat at his side, tail thumping against the doorframe.

"See what? Another sale?" Braden leaned against the frame, his smile mirroring hers.

"Another seven sales," Hadley corrected, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Seven? That's my lucky number," he teased, crossing the room to peek at her screen.

"Speaking of soaring numbers, how's life at the top?" she asked, swiveling in her chair to face him.

"Being head honcho? It has its perks." He shrugged modestly but couldn't hide the pride in his voice. "Dash here is loving the extra responsibility too."

The golden retriever barked as if on cue, earning chuckles from both of them.

"More like he loves bossing around the new recruits," Hadley joked, scratching behind Dash's ears.

"Guilty as charged," Braden confessed. "But we make a good team, don't we, buddy?" He ruffled Dash's fur, receiving an affectionate nuzzle in return.

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