A/N: I realize that it's December and a bit chilly in Las Vegas, so a cookout might not have been the best idea, but let's just pretend it's warm, OK?

Chapter four, The Cookout

Sara stared at door nervously. Maybe she really shouldn't be here. He had only invited her because his mother had insisted. And he couldn't invite everyone else without inviting her. He was just being polite.  She had the feeling her presence would make him uncomfortable. As it was, he was very private. He surely wouldn't appreciate the intrusion of so many people into his home. He certainly wouldn't appreciate her intrusion after he had made it perfectly clear over the last year that he wanted to keep her at a distance.  She checked herself over one last time. Her black slacks and button-up blue blouse seemed fine. Her curls had been tamed somewhat, but she had left it wavy. She swallowed the lump in her throat and knocked on the door.

A familiar voice from inside the townhouse rang out. "Come on in. It's not locked."

Entering the house, she scanned the surroundings. In one corner, a large screen television displayed a football game in progress. Many of the walls were as she remembered; adorned with various species of butterflies under glass.  Normally, she had a strict policy against men who decorated with dead animals, but somehow this was different. The captivatingly beautiful butterflies were much more acceptable than a deer head or a fish carcass on the wall. A sound from the kitchen drew her attention.

"Sara. I'm glad you could make it."  Grissom smiled fondly, and then turned his attention back to the task at hand. He was busy preparing the hamburgers for the barbeque.

Sara walked into the kitchen as casually as she could. She noted his fitted blue jeans and dark red shirt. "Hi. Where is everyone?"

"Well, my mom is out back and as for the guests, you are the first to arrive." The entomologist glanced at her anxiously, looking for a way to break the ice. He hated that their once easy friendship was now so strained. "Want something to drink?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

"You name it," he gestured toward the refrigerator. "Help yourself."  Gil retrieved a glass for her from the cabinet above his head.

"Thanks." She quickly chose the pitcher of iced tea and poured herself a glass. 

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Sara watched her boss work on dinner. Hamburger, ugh! As if reading her mind, he reached beside her, opened the refrigerator and removed a plastic grocery store bag. Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise when he pulled a package of veggie burgers from the bag and winked. "Did you really think I'd forget again?"

"I almost stopped on the way over and picked some up," she admitted sheepishly. Her blush gave way to her trademarked gap-toothed grin.  Catching her eyes with his own, Gil couldn't stop the warm smile from spreading across his face.

Neither of them heard the approach of his mother from the townhouse's small back yard.  The older woman paused in doorway at the sight before her.  Her heart warmed as she felt the genuine affection passing between the two. She smiled to herself. It was intriguing to finally see the interaction between Gil and the woman he had spoken of so many times. He had never openly admitted to romantic feelings for his employee, but she knew from the expression on her son's face when the subject would come up that his feelings for Sara went far beyond mere professional respect. The interaction she observed now only served to prove that point in her mind.

"Hi, Sara," she announced her presence.

"Hi." Sara smiled courteously and put her best foot forward, "It's a pleasure to finally be able to talk with you."

"It certainly is. I've heard so much about you."

I wish I could say the same thing, Sara thought.  She poured herself another glass of tea.

"Hmm…I guess I was supposed to do that." Gil both spoke and signed, referring to the beverage.

"Yes, what were you raised by wolves?" Ruth also employed both methods of communication with her affectionate teasing.  "What's with the tea? We need margaritas. Where's your blender, Gil?"

Sara laughed aloud. She was delighted by the older woman's sense of humor and recognized that by speaking as well as signing they were careful not to exclude her from the conversation.

Grissom rummaged through the cabinets and located the blender and all of the necessary ingredients for the perfect pitcher of margaritas.  Ruth quickly mixed the drinks.  "These glasses aren't chilled. How is the salt supposed to stick?"

"Oh, non-chilled glasses. How could I commit such a major social faux pas?" Gil deadpanned.

Sara tried her best to appear unamused, suppressing a grin. "It's a serious party foul, Grissom."

Grissom turned to Sara, pointing at her with a mock glare "You should choose your words carefully. The next three decomps could be yours." The brunette's broad smile was his cue to continue. "Out of the kindness of my heart, I'll give you a margarita anyway."

"Oh, no thanks," Sara politely declined. "I'm driving."

Grissom placed the glass in front of her and smirked playfully. "Not for hours yet Sara. Besides, you're off tonight. You can stay as long as you need to."

"It does look good." She shrugged and grinned, sipping her drink.

Another knock at the door announced the arrival of Warrick and Nick. Catherine and Lindsey followed shortly thereafter.

The barbeque ready, Grissom went to the yard to cook the burgers. The others joined him. Sara participated in the small talk, surprised that she felt more comfortable and at ease than she had in a very long while.  Sara was enchanted with Ruth. Grissom's mother was much like him: witty and intelligent, only more outgoing.  It wasn't difficult to imagine how she could run a business on her own.  She was very independent.  Sara had the distinct impression that the woman liked her as well, but she was afraid to read too much into it. The other CSIs had consistently called her "Mrs. Petersen" and Ruth did not correct them, yet when Sara had done so, Ruth had immediately bid her "Oh, Honey, call me Ruth."  How do you misread that?  What did Grissom tell her about me?

For his part, Grissom seemed to be pretty relaxed as well. His mother's recovery had removed a heavy burden from him. He knew he owed a huge debt of gratitude to Sara, but as always, he encountered great difficulty whenever he attempted to express raw emotion.  No one flummoxed him like Sara could. No one affected him like she could.

"Hey, Sara," Nick began. "I know I told you this before, but I've got this friend that you would absolutely love…"

"You've had too much booze, Nicky. Or I need more. Or both." Sara snorted.

"Really, you should give him a chance.  He's six foot one, a lawyer…"

Grissom almost wished he hadn't had his hearing salvaged when he heard Nick trying to convince Sara to date some guy.  Don't do it, Nick…I promise you they'll never find your body…

"…And he drives a Hummer…" Nick jabbered on.

"I definitely need more booze." Sara stared into her empty glass and retreated to the kitchen for a refill.  The pitcher was dry.

"I can make more if you like." She had not seen Ruth sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's time to switch back to tea anyway."  She poured herself a glass of iced tea.

"He loves you, you know."  Ruth said matter-of-factly.

Ah, there it is. She's going to cut right to the chase. No ambiguous aphorism. No literary reference. Wow, she's not as much like her son as I thought.  Sara sighed deeply, trying to mentally prepare herself, and sat across the table from Ruth.  She wasn't sure whether or not she was glad that Ruth wouldn't hear the sadness in her voice. "I'm not so sure about that."

"He does. It's in his eyes every time he talks about you. And now I know it's there when he looks at you, too."

Sara looked downward, covering her face with her hands for a moment. "Maybe he does, but…"

"You have to look at me, Honey."

"I'm sorry," Sara rolled her eyes and blushed, her embarrassment evident. It was easy to forget that Ruth was deaf. "Maybe he does, but he doesn't want to do anything about it. I can't tell.  He's confusing."

"He's a brilliant man, Sara, but he's not good with…expressing his emotion. Maybe you've noticed?" Ruth smiled. "Be patient with him. I think he's working on it."

Sara stiffened, but managed to keep her composure. "I, um, I know that you're trying to help, and I'm flattered. But, this...this is really painful for me.  He knows how I feel, and he's made it pretty clear that, um, it's not gonna happen."

Ruth put her hand over Sara's in understanding. "Like I said…he's bad at this. But he does care."

"Jerry Rice is a has-been?! Did you actually just say that, man?" Warrick asked Nick incredulously, as everyone filed in from the yard. Warrick shook his head in disbelief.

"Puh-leeze! Just look at the Oakland's record…"

"The Raiders suck, Nick! That's not Jerry's fault. He can't carry the whole team."

"You guys heading out?" Sara asked.

Catherine grabbed her purse. "Yeah, some us actually have to work tonight."

They said their goodnights and departed, leaving Sara once again alone with Grissom and his mother.

TBC