Shopping for Sara
Chapter 1
Bath Soap, Shower Gel, Thongs, and Cheekies
It wasn't the first time Gil Grissom had shopped for Sara but on most occasions she had been standing beside him. Or had given him a specific list. He raked a hand over his face. There was too much of the stuff—and the store was a small one. He had checked twice and knew he had the right store; he just did not expect so many bottles, pots, tubs, and tubes of bath things. He had thought this would be easy—easy as the first time he had made a purchase for her.
With that thought, he grinned, thinking back to a night in San Francisco. They had eaten dinner and walked for hours before ending up in Chinatown. Sara knew her way around and had shown no concern for heights or narrow lanes as she led him up hundreds of steps through a maze of vines and trees or into narrow lanes and alleys with overhanging balconies covered in trailing flowers. She had been an excellent tour guide as she found and explained historical markers and statues—she knew her way around the city and she knew its history.
At some point, he had purchased a camera which had been taken over by Sara. "You need to be in the photos!" She giggled. They had one photograph of them together with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background.
It was much later, in Chinatown, when she had picked up a simple necklace—a silk cord with a small colored stone hanging from it—that he made his first purchase for Sara. A gift, he said, for showing him around, making him laugh. He did not say how young she made him feel with her quick, broad smile, easy-going manner, and contagious enthusiasm. He was absolutely certain he had fallen in love that night. An invisible web had surrounded him in her presence; he had been caught with such ease. It would be years before he fully realized how that net had wrapped his mind and heart with Sara Sidle.
His hands had worked their way into his pockets and he rocked slightly as he remembered one day that had changed his life in unimaginable ways. His face softened into a smile briefly before he frowned again at the rows of bottles displayed in front of him.
A voice asked, "Do you need help, sir?" A young woman stood at his elbow.
Brought out of his reminiscence state, he nodded. "I'm not sure what to get—a citrus scent, very faint."
"Gel, wash, soap, scrub, or polish?"
His finger pointed. "A bottle—and—and something like a…" his fingers closed together "tub, I think." He had no idea there were so many fragrances in so many containers.
The girl counted on her fingers. "We have lemon, lemongrass, orange, satsuma, grapefruit, and several blends using citrus as a base." She reached for a small bottle. "Is it a specific one you want?"
"It's in a clear bottle and a very faint color, if that helps."
She smiled. "Lemongrass. Over here." They walked to another display. "Very soothing, very mild. We have it in bath soap, shower gel, a body scrub, a lotion." She picked up three items.
"The shower gel and lotion—her shampoo is in a blue bottle," he said, slightly hoping there was only one shampoo in a blue bottle.
A few minutes later, he left the store carrying everything he had wanted as well as several other items. He wanted Sara to feel comfortable in his house, to have familiar things to use.
Passing a bookstore, he remembered another gift he had purchased for Sara—a book. He knew she had mentioned the Christmas gift to Nick and Warrick resulting in a running joke between the two men as they teased Sara; never when he was nearby but he had heard their teasing. His attempt to explain the gift to Sara fell flat—saying they were working Christmas day and he wanted her to have a gift from someone made it sound like charity. When it really wasn't—he wanted to give her a special gift because…because he had feelings he could not easily explain.
He arrived at his second stop, equally overwhelming but a bit manageable because he was buying what he wanted and the store clerks, all female, were experts at providing what men wanted for women. It did not embarrass any of them as they made estimates of sizes by posing for him showing him dozens of styles and colors of very personal lingerie. Lace, silk, cotton, v-string, thong, cheekies—one he had not heard before, hip huggers, bikinis; he knew what Sara wore and could not stop smiling as he made selection. He paid for his purchases and waited while the items were wrapped in the store's trademark bright pink paper.
As he made his way home, he checked and rechecked his mental list: a clean house, lots of food, new sheets on the bed, new towels in the bathroom, bath essentials including a new toothbrush, sexy lingerie of his choice. For the first time, Sara was coming to his house as his—his girlfriend, his lover. He frowned; he did not like either of those words to describe what he had with Sara Sidle. His sole mate, his partner, the woman he loved—he could not keep the smile from his lips. Sara would laugh at his attempt to put a name to their relationship.
After she had come to Vegas, they had developed a complicated relationship—not always a positive one—they would be overwhelmed with work, he was often forgetful. He had finally realized how often he stumbled with his supervision of Sara—and the negative impact it had on their personal relationship. Once she had said he was emotionally unavailable; her words had hurt more than she realized. He tried to change—not quickly, but he never wanted to hear those words from her again. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to her, eating with her, giving assignments so they worked together; then in a split second everything changed—and he made promises to everything holy to change his selfish ways, to be given a chance to change his life.
Remarkably, it had been easy; effortless, they became committed lovers, in her surroundings, in her small apartment. Together, they ate; they read to each other, they watched old movies. They provided comfort, kindness, and compassion to each other, and they made love in her bed, surrounded by her things. Tonight would be the first time she came to him—to his house and his bed—with plans to spend the night.
His stomach clenched with nervousness; he wanted everything to be, if not perfect, then nearly so, for Sara's first over night stay. He checked his watch—two hours. She had worked a double and he had officially taken a leave day. Still, he hurried. He put the bag of bath gel, lotion, and toothbrush in the bathroom which was gleaming after his scrub down earlier in the day; the pink wrapped garments, he placed on the bed.
Quickly surveying the kitchen and living area, he wished for flowers to add color to his white-gray-black furnishings—and remembered sending a plant to Sara when she threatened to leave the lab. He could not remember why he had sent a plant instead of flowers. And shook his head at another one of his knuckle-headed decisions. He dug around in a cabinet and found placemats with colorful stripes and placed those on the table. He paced, returned to the bedroom and brought the pink gift bag to the table.
He set the oven temperature, paced until the oven heated, and placed a vegetable lasagna inside. The bread and salad would wait until last minute. He paced again, decided the pink bag did not belong on the table; he took it back into the bedroom. He rechecked everything, thinking he had not been this nervous in twenty years.
Glancing at his watch, he undressed and stepped into the shower. Afterwards, he dried every drop of water from the walls and hung his damp towel in the closet. Deciding the bottle of gel needed to be in the shower, he emptied the bag of its contents and lined each item beside the sink.
"Looks like a hotel," he muttered as he moved everything again. Giving up, he towel-dried his hair and pulled on pants and tried several shirts before making a decision. To himself, he said "Get a grip—she's been here before." But it had been a different situation. Before he had buttoned his shirt, his phone rang.
"I'm here," her soft voice playfully filled his ear.
"I'll be down." He had parked outside so she could park her car in his garage space and, within minutes, he was opening the car door and extending a hand to her, pulling her to him as the garage door cranked closed. Sara smiled when he said, "You're here" and tugged her into a hug. A long, soft kiss followed. He wanted to hold her, tightly, for the next twenty-four hours.
She broke away. "Your feet—you're not wearing shoes!" Then her hands cradled his face and she kissed him. "I love the way you smell—clean and very sexy." Her lips skimmed across his ear; her palm felt his face change into a smile. "Every light was red," she whispered; a sweet, husky sound warmed his neck as she sighed.
"Come in—are you hungry? Dinner is almost ready." He wrapped an arm around her back.
Sara hesitated. "I—I brought some things—my bag."
"I'll get it later." He realized she was as nervous as he had been all day. He motioned toward the steps. She hesitated again. He turned to face her, lacing his fingers with hers.
"You know I love you." He said the words quietly, just above a whisper.
Her lips twitched into a smile. "You really love me?"
"You didn't know that?" He grinned as her hand touched his chest.
"I wanted to hear it again."
With that exchange they left the garage.