Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Twelve

‘She’s just like me,’ Grissom thought as he’d captured that single drop of syrup and popped his thumb in his mouth. She’s afraid to fall in love. She’s been hurt too many times to trust her instincts. Her gut.

Tuesday’s eyes tracked the movement. She was as turned on by that presumptuous touch as he was. Her nostrils flared when he’d put his thumb in his mouth and sucked the syrup from it. Her eyes were suddenly bright crystal emeralds as he let the maple sweetness roll over his tongue. They weren’t just green, but had deepened into spectacularly dark emerald jewels, glimmering with a fire that came from somewhere deep inside. When her chest heaved, Grissom’s gaze fell to the fluttering pulse in the hollow between her collarbones. She felt it too, the hum of sexual tension between them. He’d bet money she’d taste sweeter than any syrup.

Such a simple thing, touch. He’d never known the tenderness of it, only the absence of it in his life. His boys always gave it to him unconditionally, without reserve or judgment. But Pam’s constant complaining about his lack of finesse during lovemaking drove his mother’s point home. Through birth, he’d been cursed to repeat his mistakes. Through marriage, he’d been damned.

But how to make Tuesday want to stay? That was worth considering. He refused to use his boys as lures. Not like he needed one. If anything, they were already snagged and looked happy as clams, snuggled beside her with her arms around them. What male, no matter how old, wouldn’t be happy? If anything, he was the outsider, sitting opposite the contented threesome, watching his sons soak up the light that radiated from Tuesday. Was it wrong for a father to be jealous of his children?

“So what’d ya think, Daddy?” Luke chirped. “Can she?”

Grissom blinked to get his wandering brain back on track. He’d been caught daydreaming about the lovely woman his sons were already enamored with, and he’d missed the conversation at the table. “Uh, what?”

Tanner giggled. “Stop looking at Miss Tuesday like that, Dad. I said I wanna show her my combat jet picture collection. Can she come home with us? Please?”

Grissom’s internal self-defense mechanisms kicked in. He barely reined in the panic that sharing his sons induced when an instant “No!” burst out of his mouth. Allowing anyone inside his new house—into his sons’ one safe place—risked everything. Their peace of mind. The daily routines he’d established to help them recover from their trauma. Tanner and Luke were all Grissom lived for, and they needed to feel completely secure before he allowed anyone—

“It’s okay. Another time maybe,” Tuesday said quietly.

Grissom saw it then. She thought she was the problem. She was only pulling away because—he was pushing her away. The ‘No’ came easier this time. “No, Tuesday. I mean, yes. Please come home with us. I think you’ll be impressed with what Tanner’s done. It’s the best collection of F-16 fighter jet art I’ve ever seen.” Because it was the only art collection compiled by a six-year-old Grissom had ever seen.

Her lips pursed into a small O, as if she couldn’t decide. Grissom didn’t blame her. He was having a hard time keeping up with his panicky-self as well. A woman had to be nuts to want to be anywhere near a nutcase like him. But there she was, considering doing just that.

“Okay, but I can’t stay long,” she replied, her voice soft and hesitant. “I still have… things to do today.”

Damn it, Grissom had put that uncertainty in her head. He was the problem here, not Tuesday. He needed to turn this around. He’d goofed up, again. If he could only get his brain to stop throwing him off the cliff of despair every time he had second thoughts. Being paranoid was exhausting.

His mind went back to his original realization: She’s just like me. Afraid to trust. Afraid to fall in love. No sooner had that epiphany swept over him when something in his head clicked. Tuesday Smart wasn’t the threat here, and neither was he. They were both fighting the same dragon: Emotional Trauma.

The weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. Something that felt a lot like his old confident self, surged to the surface of his psyche, as if it were fighting for air. He could breathe again. Okay then. Grissom reached his right hand across the table, the palm up and open in invitation. “Can you stay long enough to have dinner with us? I grill a pretty mean steak.” He shrugged both shoulders. “I mean, I am a guy, and that’s what us guys do.”

Talk about lame.

“Yes!” Tanner shrieked, bouncing his butt on the bench beside Tuesday. “Please, oh please, say yes. It’ll be our very first picnic in our brand-new house!”

“And I got Tonka trucks,” Luke proudly announced, as he climbed to his feet and squeezed her neck. Damned if the little guy didn’t press his sticky face into her cheek and plant a sloppy, syrupy kiss on Tuesday.

Grissom’s eyes teared up. There he sat, looking at the woman who’d jumped at the chance to save his sons. Yet they weren’t worried Tuesday might hurt them. Not at all. They already knew she wouldn’t. If anything, they loved her because she’d loved them first. She might not have said the words, but she’d surely proved it. Over and over again. Just look at her. Sitting there with her arms full of— my boys.

He coughed, then closed his eyes. He couldn’t see anyway, not through the tears about to run down his face. That was when he felt it, Tuesday’s delicate hand in his palm, skin against skin, squeezing some of her special kind of warmth into him. His fingers circled hers carefully. Getting close to a woman again was a dangerous thing. He didn’t want to mess this up.

“Please say yes,” he begged, sounding a lot like Tanner. “I know we just ate, but stay long enough for me to fix dinner for you. It’s the least I can do.” Stay with me. With us. Please, just for one evening.

“I’d love to,” she replied.

Before he knew what he was saying, Grissom blurted, “That’s my girl.”

Tuesday winked at him, as if she really, truly was his girl.