Page 45 of Grant’s Flame

She was worth everything.

Slowly, she leveled her chin with the table again and met my waiting stare.

“You did not embarrass me. There isn’t a single thing you could do that would embarrass me. Do you understand that?” I asked in the most serious tone I could muster.

“You say that now.”

“Well, it’s true.” I paused thoughtfully, cocking my head. “Oh, hold up. I haven’t seen you dance yet. Is it that bad?”

“Be careful now, Tree—” She chuckled at first, but the sound gave way to a real laugh. I was instantly grateful that I had quickly decided to inject a little humor into my last comment to lighten the mood.

“But seriously for a second.” She was the one to put her hand on mine now, and I wasn’t going to be a dumb shit and waste the opportunity. I spread my fingers and let her slim feminine ones fall between them, locking us together in a small way. My heart swelled a bit more when, instead of the usual tugging away, Rio squeezed her hand tighter with mine and finished her thought.

“Before our server comes back, did you want to leave? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable now,” my beautiful woman said.

“Well, I’m still hungry and we’re already seated,” I commented while scanning the crowded restaurant. “But I want you to enjoy yourself, too, so I will do whatever you want. You make the call.” I really hoped she would choose to stay because, at some point, she was going to have to stop running and face Sean’s death head-on.

Maybe I wasn’t the right person to help her through that particular struggle in her life. Obviously I’d lost all objectivity on the subject of her personal, private life. But when it came to her happiness, I cared as much as—no, more than—everyone else, that she saw her way through this grieving and healing and found joy in living again.

Our waitress approached, and I looked to Rio with a hopeful nod. She both surprised me and made me so proud that instead of asking for the check for our drinks, she placed her lunch order. I followed suit, and when the server walked off, I scooped up her hands in mine. It was becoming harder and harder to not be touching her all the time. Even if just in some small way.

Of course, the bigger ways were so much more fun…

“I had an idea today. I wanted to get your thoughts on it. Also, I have something I need to ask you…” Rio looked to me nervously while she sprinkled salt on the communal basket of chips the waitress placed between us.

“Yes, we should definitely get a sex swing for the Naples house.” I pretended to be preoccupied with something on my phone, just to mess with her by throwing the random comment out nonchalantly. When she didn’t respond after a couple beats, I looked up to find her frozen with a chip halfway to her mouth. A wide grin was plastered across her face.

“Oh, I see my queen likes that idea, too. Noted.” I’m sure my grin matched hers then.

“You’re damn crazy, do you know that?”

I winked at her over the rim of my beer, partly because I knew it infuriated her, mostly because I already had the glass to my lips when asked the question, and the heat we had been shopping in really made me thirsty.

“What I really wanted to talk to you about…” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, and her gaze moved around the dining room again, much slower this time, not the wild, unfocused way they had before. When it seemed as though she was going to take a second lap visually, I spoke up.

“Baby, do you remember one of the first times we met for lunch after I stopped working with you at Abstract? We met at the Bunker Hill Steps?”

“Yep. Sure do.” She smiled at the memory, too. “Empanadas, if I recall.”

“That’s right,” I agreed while my beam grew in direct proportion to hers. “You told me you wished more people would just say what they meant, would stop beating around the bush. Do it, girl. Speak your mind. It’s me.” I thumped the middle of my chest. “I may actually be one of the least judgmental people in LA.” I finished the last of my beer and waited for her to speak.

“Tall, handsome, and a lock stock memory, too.” The little imp narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re quite the package, Mr. Twombley.”

“I listen. Because…you matter to me. But if you don’t understand that by now, you’re never going to.” I leaned over more, to really grab her attention. “And I’d be happy to reacquaint you with my package, Ms. Gibson.”

The red flush—the one I was completely addicted to coaxing from her—spread across her chest and moved up her neck. If we weren’t in the middle of a crowded patio in the heart of Honolulu, one more illicit comment or perfectly placed kiss or bite, and she’d go slack in my arms. My cock swelled painfully in my shorts at the thought, but fortunately she’d gotten back to girding herself for the confession at hand. Or whatever it was. After tossing back the rest of her beer like a frat boy, she sat up straighter and directly met my gaze.

“Okay, here goes.” She searched my face for a long moment, and I silently gave her all the strength I could. Not that she actually needed it. She was one of the strongest people I knew. I just wished she’d believe that too. “I—well, I went ahead and joined an online support group.”

She took a deep breath and held it. She frantically studied my face for a reaction.

“Hey. Breathe, baby, so you don’t hyperventilate. Please.”

She shook her head as if my request had been in ancient Greek. “Breathe?” she sputtered. “That’s seriously all you have for me here?”

“Of course not.”

But she wasn’t any calmer as I stood abruptly and moved into the empty chair to my right, repositioning myself right next to her. No way could I accept this news from her with nothing but a polite smile and a few pats on her hands. This was huge. Important. A gigantic, courageous step forward. I had to show her that, with all my actions as well as my words. She had to feel every ounce of my sincerity, pride, and admiration. Nothing else would be sufficient. I was committed to the cause despite her bewildered gasp as I firmly wrapped her hands in mine.