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Mia hadn’t been kidding when she’d said that she was good at board games. Grant was no slouch himself, but she’d trounced him in three hands of Uno, a game of Clue, and was so far winning at Monopoly - a game at which he’d thought he excelled in. Since she’d bought Boardwalk, she was beating him rather handily.
She was also smiling, and Grant was sure there was never a woman more beautiful than Mia when she was happy. In the last two hours, the wariness had gone from her eyes, and even her shoulders seemed to be more relaxed. She was having fun, and he was damn glad that he could help her with that.
Because she didn’t seem to want his help with her problem.
He’d tried a few ways to perhaps get her to talk about it, but it was easy to see that she didn’t want to discuss it. She’d referred to it, of course, but she hadn’t even said his name. He wasn’t going to push - that wasn’t his style. But he was sure that he could help her if only she’d give him a chance. He could find a safe place for her to stay, monitor her ex’s whereabouts, help her get a job, and some independence.
“You’re going down, Grant Anderson,” she said when he rolled a six that had him landing on Park Place. “I hope you can pay the rent.”
He could but it would pretty much bankrupt him. He’d have a measly utility and about a hundred bucks which wasn’t going to take him far. Mia had won, and he was going to be a gracious loser.
“I want a rematch,” he said, handing over the loot. “But after we have some ice cream.”
“That sounds like a good plan.”
Grant scooped out two bowls of chocolate marshmallow, and they sat down on the carpet in the living room to eat. The television was on with an on-the-spot reporting of what was happening outside in the storm. He was going to have his hands full in the morning from the looks of it. He wished he could be out there, making sure no one was doing anything foolish, but he couldn’t help anyone if he got hurt in the process. He needed to stay put until the worst had passed.
Their bowls were empty when Mia spoke.
“I know you want to ask how I got myself into this.”
Was she ready to talk about it? Would she let him help her?
“I’m going to guess he wasn’t like this when you met him. He was charming and he made you feel special.”
“You really are a mind reader.”
“Like I said, I’ve seen this before. Part of my cop training was to handle domestic issues.”
“Domestic issues,” she echoed. “That’s a nice polite way of putting it. I’d call it a fucking mess.”
“But you got away. You left. That’s a huge step forward, Mia. You don’t have to go back. Don’t give him that power anymore.” He sighed, placing his bowl on the coffee table. “I know that it’s easy for me to say it. Doing it is another thing.”
“He’s never hit me,” Mia said, her tone almost robotic as if she was reciting a play or reading a passage from a book out loud. “I guess I’ve been lucky.”
“But you’re afraid of him.”
“Yes.”
She was staring down at the carpet, her legs tucked underneath her, her bare toes painted red poking out. He didn’t push her or say anything. She’d been pushed around enough. She needed to know that this was in her hands. He wasn’t in charge here.
“Do you know what I really want?” she finally said. “I really just want to forget about it all tonight. I want to pretend that I’m the Mia Gamble from three years ago. That she isn’t gone after all.”
“I think she’s in there.”
“I’m trying to find her.”
Grant didn’t know what made him do it, but he found himself climbing to his feet, his hand outstretched. This woman needed to feel special. She needed to be safe, secure, and cared for. This wasn’t in his job description, but somehow Mia had crawled under his skin in only a few hours. He could see the glimmer of the person that she’d been before and could be again. There was spirit there, and so much more. She was funny, intelligent, and beautiful.
And she was struggling to hold onto that knowledge. She’d been torn down too many times, but dammit, she was a survivor. She kept getting knocked over, and then standing up again. He could see her instincts to run and hide were warring with wanting to live and have fun.
“Mia,” he said. “Will you dance with me?”
She blinked a few times and frowned, ignoring his outstretched hand.
“What?”
“Will you dance with me? If I shared a meal, some board games, and then some ice cream with a beautiful woman I’d either want to take her for a stroll on the beach or maybe dance. Since we can’t go outside… Will you?”
