Sources

Chapter 22

Sara awoke at dusk to find that she and Grissom had both fallen asleep on the porch swing. Stretching her back slightly, she groaned at the cramped muscles.

"I could help you out with those," he whispered huskily. Sara looked up at him with raised eyebrows as he blinked away the last vestiges of sleep.

"You hungry?" she asked softly. The evening was so still, it felt dreamlike.

Grissom stifled a yawn. "Actually, yes. Know of any good restaurants in the area?" His fingers pressed into her back, kneading away the knots with ease.

She could only answer with a moan as his hands worked their magic.

An hour later they were seated at Avanti, a nearby Italian restaurant. Remembering the night of the drinking game, Sara had chosen to wear a short black skirt with a black sweater and sandals. Grissom couldn't keep his eyes off her legs.

Purposely running her fingers down her calf, she pretended to study the menu. "What are you getting?"

"Aroused."

Their eyes met in mutual amusement and desire. "Why, Grissom, are you baiting me?"

"Well, I am a master baiter," he conceded, taking a sip of red wine.

"You will be later tonight, I'm sure."

He choked on his wine as she smirked at him. The game was on.

"Good evening, are you ready to order? Any appetizers to start you off?" A waiter appeared, poised with a pen and notepad.

Grissom stared at Sara while he ordered. "Yes, I'd like to start with a bowl of French onion soup. I like it hot. and thick."

Sara matched his stare. "I want the stuffed mushrooms," she said. "Make sure they're stuffed really, really tight." She slid her leg against Grissom's, and he inhaled sharply. She fought a smile. This was too easy.

"I, uh." Grissom tried to focus on the menu. "I'm still deciding on an entrée. You go ahead."

"I'll have fettucini alfredo," she told the waiter with a smile, adding, "Extra cream, please." Her leg inched higher.

Grissom cleared his throat. "I'd like the filet mignon, rare." He threw their menus at the waiter, who was ogling Sara openly.

As the waiter walked away, Sara leaned forward. "Rare?" she asked innocently. "I'm surprised. I thought you liked your meat hard."

"You win," he chuckled, raising his hands in defeat.

She smiled with satisfaction. "Good idea," she said. "You don't want to know how I'd planned to order the cannoli."

He bit his lip in mock agony, and they shared a slow smile. After years of hiding behind clipboards and beakers, it felt amazing to be so brazen with their innuendo.

"It's a nice place, isn't it?" Sara said, mercifully changing the subject.

Grissom nodded, looking around. "Very. Did I ever tell you I like to cook?"

"No," she replied, looking intrigued.

"I do. And I'm pretty good at it. But when it comes to ambiance, romance, and perfectly prepared Italian food." he shook his head. "I love eating out."

Her mouth flew open to respond, but he was quicker, covering her lips with his finger. "The game is over, Sara! You won!"

She pouted. "No fair, you were master baiting me."

When they got back to Moody Blues, Sara was relieved to note that the combination of a heavy meal, wine, and Grissom's company mostly chased away the butterflies she felt at the sight of the B&B. He opened the door for her, and she stepped out with a pensive expression.

"Penny for your thoughts," Grissom said, slipping an arm around her waist.

She was quiet for a minute, staring at the building. "I was thinking. that I haven't had a home since I was thirteen."

He was startled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I was in foster care, then in college, then in grad school. Then I lived in a series of apartments that I spent almost no time in."

"Do you think of the B&B as your home, Sara?" Her hesitation surprised him.

"I guess so. I mean, I was born here," she said. "Literally. My parents were into the whole hippie midwife thing."

"A lot of good memories," he supplied, watching her.

She nodded. "Oh yeah. My parents were really supportive of my interest in science, and I spent most of my time peering into books or microscopes. I felt very. nurtured, growing up. I was fearless." She wiped away a tear as Grissom held her tight, both of them studying the B&B.

"Is that why you're here?" he asked gently. "To become fearless again?"

She turned toward him suddenly. "What are you afraid of, Grissom?"

He blinked. "What?"

"I'm trying to think of a way to explain it to you. So, what's your biggest fear?"

Grissom gazed at her. "Well," he began slowly, "it used to be you."

"Me?" Her eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion.

"You. I was afraid that you would make me love you, and you'd leave me."

She stared at him. "You said it used to be me."

He nodded. "Then you went missing. And I realized that my biggest fear wasn't falling in love with you and losing you. Truth was, I was already in love. And you'd been abducted by a monster, and I thought I might have lost you." He took a shaky breath. "The idea that I could lose you without having told you how I felt, without spending time with you or even kissing you. that was my greatest fear. I guess Tennyson was right after all."

Sara laced her fingers through his. "So you faced your fear."

"I did," he affirmed with a soft smile. "It was terrifying, and it still is. But I feel stronger and more. whole, than I ever have before."

She turned back to look at the B&B. "That's why I'm here. I want to feel whole again." Her grip on his fingers tightened. "Griss."

"Yes?"

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" She saw the question in his eyes and rushed to clarify. "Just sleeping, I promise."

He kissed her forehead gently.