in his own.
Griffin didn’t hesitate. He reached out his hand to Helen, waiting for her to set her tiny hand in his. Helen had allowed Val to grab her hand, but she probably wouldn’t have been thrilled with her son, a complete stranger to her now, if he’d done the same.
Helen turned to Val in question.
“It’s okay,” Val said, encouraging her. “Take Griffin’s hand.”
Shakily, Helen complied. It made a knot of emotion swell in Val’s throat. Val reached her other hand across the table toward Griffin, needing to close the chain. A surge of attraction lit through her as his hand enveloped hers.
After a quick prayer, Val picked up her sandwich half and took a bite, glancing over at Helen and inwardly praying that she’d do the same. You couldn’t force someone to eat, not unless you ran a feeding tube down their nose. Val didn’t want that for Helen. She didn’t want that for Griffin either, who appeared to be willing his mother to take a bite with his eyes.
“Mom, why don’t you try the sandwich Val made you?”
Helen’s eyes widened. “I’m not your mom,” she said, fidgeting with her hands in front of her. She was getting agitated. The room was full of chatter and smells. And she didn’t know Griffin from the janitor at the nursing home. It must be so terrifying for her to be here, Val thought, instinctively moving her hand over Helen’s.
“Honey and peanut butter was one of my mother’s specialties. She made one for me every day for lunch.” Val laughed to herself. “Kids should really have more variety in their diet, but it was something we did together.” Her father had never stocked honey in their pantry after her mother’s death. He’d made peanut butter and jelly, which was okay, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing had been the same after her mother died.
Val’s throat tightened and she was suddenly hit with those pesky emotions she tried to keep at bay in the company of others.
“Everything okay?” Griffin asked, meeting her gaze. So observant.
She nodded quickly, summoning a yawn, which always brought tears to her eyes. It was a trick she’d learned a long time ago. When your eyes were watering, people shrugged it off in the company of a yawn. Yawns made everyone’s eyes water. “Just tired. I was up late last night,” she said, telling the truth.
“Doing what?” he asked.
Heat moved through her. She hadn’t expected that question. No way was she going to tell him the truth, that she’d been up writing a romance where the hero was suspiciously similar to him, down to the tattooed, muscled arms and military-short black hair. “Um…well, I…”
“You were reading one of those romance novels like you’ve been reading to the women here, weren’t you?” he asked, teasing her.
She relaxed a little, tilting her head. “Maybe.”
Griffin grinned. “When I can’t sleep I count backward from one hundred. It’s something that my, uh—” He hesitated.
“Something your mother taught you,” she supplied, smiling gently.
“Yeah.”
They both stopped talking as Helen lifted her sandwich to her mouth. Val held her breath.
Please take a bite. Please take a bite. Please take a…
Helen’s teeth closed down on the bread and she pulled a small piece off. Val tried not to let Helen see her watching. Griffin did the same. Helen chewed and swallowed. Val felt like plowing a fist into the air. One bite was success, even a small one. From the gentle turn of his mouth, Val knew Griffin felt the same way. She swallowed, sharing a glance that said so many things. It wasn’t often that two people who barely knew each other shared glances that spoke volumes, but she and Griffin had just won a small victory together.
There was something else in his eyes. Attraction. Or maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see. Maybe last night’s writing session made her feel things that weren’t real. She always fell for the heroes she created in her books, and this one was
Griffin didn’t hesitate. He reached out his hand to Helen, waiting for her to set her tiny hand in his. Helen had allowed Val to grab her hand, but she probably wouldn’t have been thrilled with her son, a complete stranger to her now, if he’d done the same.
Helen turned to Val in question.
“It’s okay,” Val said, encouraging her. “Take Griffin’s hand.”
Shakily, Helen complied. It made a knot of emotion swell in Val’s throat. Val reached her other hand across the table toward Griffin, needing to close the chain. A surge of attraction lit through her as his hand enveloped hers.
After a quick prayer, Val picked up her sandwich half and took a bite, glancing over at Helen and inwardly praying that she’d do the same. You couldn’t force someone to eat, not unless you ran a feeding tube down their nose. Val didn’t want that for Helen. She didn’t want that for Griffin either, who appeared to be willing his mother to take a bite with his eyes.
“Mom, why don’t you try the sandwich Val made you?”
Helen’s eyes widened. “I’m not your mom,” she said, fidgeting with her hands in front of her. She was getting agitated. The room was full of chatter and smells. And she didn’t know Griffin from the janitor at the nursing home. It must be so terrifying for her to be here, Val thought, instinctively moving her hand over Helen’s.
“Honey and peanut butter was one of my mother’s specialties. She made one for me every day for lunch.” Val laughed to herself. “Kids should really have more variety in their diet, but it was something we did together.” Her father had never stocked honey in their pantry after her mother’s death. He’d made peanut butter and jelly, which was okay, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing had been the same after her mother died.
Val’s throat tightened and she was suddenly hit with those pesky emotions she tried to keep at bay in the company of others.
“Everything okay?” Griffin asked, meeting her gaze. So observant.
She nodded quickly, summoning a yawn, which always brought tears to her eyes. It was a trick she’d learned a long time ago. When your eyes were watering, people shrugged it off in the company of a yawn. Yawns made everyone’s eyes water. “Just tired. I was up late last night,” she said, telling the truth.
“Doing what?” he asked.
Heat moved through her. She hadn’t expected that question. No way was she going to tell him the truth, that she’d been up writing a romance where the hero was suspiciously similar to him, down to the tattooed, muscled arms and military-short black hair. “Um…well, I…”
“You were reading one of those romance novels like you’ve been reading to the women here, weren’t you?” he asked, teasing her.
She relaxed a little, tilting her head. “Maybe.”
Griffin grinned. “When I can’t sleep I count backward from one hundred. It’s something that my, uh—” He hesitated.
“Something your mother taught you,” she supplied, smiling gently.
“Yeah.”
They both stopped talking as Helen lifted her sandwich to her mouth. Val held her breath.
Please take a bite. Please take a bite. Please take a…
Helen’s teeth closed down on the bread and she pulled a small piece off. Val tried not to let Helen see her watching. Griffin did the same. Helen chewed and swallowed. Val felt like plowing a fist into the air. One bite was success, even a small one. From the gentle turn of his mouth, Val knew Griffin felt the same way. She swallowed, sharing a glance that said so many things. It wasn’t often that two people who barely knew each other shared glances that spoke volumes, but she and Griffin had just won a small victory together.
There was something else in his eyes. Attraction. Or maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see. Maybe last night’s writing session made her feel things that weren’t real. She always fell for the heroes she created in her books, and this one was
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