by Tawna Fenske
“But—” Shelly scrunches up her face. “You’re right. I do spend too much time stressing about what people think of me.”
I nod and pull the tap to splash an ounce of dark beer into the taster glass. “Try the coconut porter. You’ll like this if you enjoyed the stout.”
I can’t believe I’m doling out beer samples with mental health advice, but it’s hardly the strangest thing I’ve done in my career. I once did a morning talk show with a couple who stripped naked and got halfway to having sex on stage before the producer cut to commercial. This experience in the bunker seems tame in comparison.
“Thanks, Dr. Judson.” Shelly picks up her coconut porter.
“Mari, please.” I smile as she turns to go. “Who’s next?”
The line is finally thinning after hours of being backed to the other end of the bunker. Maybe I should start serving beer in my office. Not exactly conventional, but it could be key to getting community members to prioritize mental health.
A tall, muscular guy we hired to operate Juniper Ridge’s on-site gym steps up to the counter. “Hey, Mari,” he says. “Could I have the IPA and some advice for motivating clients to show up for personal training appointments?”
“Hey, Cal.” I pour his sample into a taster glass, taking care to let the liquid hit the side the way Griffin showed me so it doesn’t foam over. “This is the Riverside pale ale with six-percent ABV and 50 IBU. It’s made with citra and mosaic hops, and your clients might enjoy knowing that motion creates emotion.”
“What’s that?” Cal sips his beer, eyes fixed on my face.
“Allowing oxygen to flow through the body and reach the brain prompts the brain to release feel-good chemicals that influence positivity. Tell them to think of exercise as a natural antidepressant, so they’re tending both mind and body when they work out.”
“Thanks.” He takes a sip of the beer and makes a yummy noise. “That’s really good.”
“I’ll tell Griffin Walsh you said so.”
He grins. “I meant the advice, but the beer’s good, too.”
Stepping aside, he reveals the next customer in line. The fact that she’s two feet shorter than Cal is why I didn’t see her before.
“Hi, Soph.” I smile and grab another taster glass. “Root beer, grape soda, or ginger beer?”
“Ginger beer, please.” She reaches into the tip jar and plucks out a slip of paper. Frowning, she reads the advice. “‘Ask yourself ‘and then what?’ when you’re stuck on a negative thought.’”
“It helps sometimes when you’re feeling anxious. It’s a way of getting unstuck.” I hand her the glass of golden liquid and she gulps it down.
“Blimey, that’s scrummy.”
I’d almost forgotten her British cursing habit. “I take it that’s a good thing?”
Soph grins. “Delicious.” She sets her glass on the bar. “Dad made a different version of this when we lived in Sacramento. It had hibiscus, so it always looked kinda pink.”
“I’d love to try that.” Honestly, I’d love to try just about anything created by Griffin Walsh. “Are you a culinary master like your dad?”
She smiles. “I love baking. Cooking, not so much.”
“I can’t do either, so you’re ahead of me.”
Soph cocks her head. “If I teach you to bake, could I come over more and see Leonard?”
“You can come over anytime.” I refill her glass, fighting the urge to do a celebratory dance. While I won’t treat Soph as my patient, I can be a good listener if she wants to talk.
“Cool.” The girl grins. “I’m going to a sleepover tonight. You know, in case you wanted to come over and kiss my dad.”
She grabs her drink and hustles away, leaving me laughing in her wake. What would it be like if I could see Griffin for real? If we somehow put the Gabrielle situation behind us and dated like normal people?
There goes my brain with the ableist language again. I turn back to the line and see there’s one person remaining, and he’s my brother.
“Hey, Mari.” Cooper grins and leans his arms on the bar. “Can I have another taster of grape soda, please?”
“For you, I’ll make it a full glass.” I pluck one from under the movable bar and fill it nearly to the brim. “You having a good time?”
“You know me.” He flashes his movie star smile. “I always have a good time.” There’s the tiniest hint of sadness in his eyes that I’m not sure everyone sees, but he hides it with that famous grin.
“Are those vegetarian samosas all gone?” I ask. “I didn’t get a chance to try them.”
Coop grins wider and lifts a cocktail plate. “I grabbed the last three for you.”
Familial fondness floods my system, and I take the plate with a lump in my throat. “Thanks, Coop.”
“No sweat.” He wanders off, and I watch him go, hoping he’s settling okay into life in rural Oregon. Of all of us, Coop’s the one with the biggest adjustment to make. The youngest brother, the family golden boy, he bore the weight of our parents’ expectations in ways Gabe and Dean managed to avoid.
“Looks like you don’t need this.” I turn to see Griffin approaching with a plate of food. “I thought you might be hungry. Didn’t look like you got much of a break.”
“I’m starving, so I’ll happily add that to what Coop brought.” I hold out my plate and Griffin arranges a couple bruschettas and three mini meatballs around the edges. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Think you can bust out of here soon?”
I scan the underground space, observing the dwindling crowd. “I think I’ve gotten through everyone who wanted advice.” I touch the tip jar. “This was a brilliant idea, by the way.”
“Yeah?”
“People who weren’t comfortable sharing kept fishing in there and pulling out scraps of advice. It’s like a fortune cookie.”
Griff grins. “If the fortunes were written by a professional psychologist with a doctorate from UCLA.”
“With a specialization in working with unique populations like celebrities.” I smile, pleased he knows something about my educational background. “UCLA has several licensed supervisors dedicated to that competency.”
“I know.” Griff gets an odd look on his face as he sips from his pint glass. “My ex-wife went out of her way to find a shrink with that background. Someone she had to go all the way to LA to see.”
I swallow hard, catching the edge to his voice. It’s fainter than it used to be when he mentioned Gabby, but still there.
This morning I left another message with her manager, pleading for a call back. To my utter shock, he texted an hour later agreeing to pass my request to Elle Julia. If I could just get her to sign that form—
“Your family’s pretty great.”
Griff’s words jolt me back. “How so?” I don’t disagree, but I want to hear more.
“You’re all so different, but you’re always keeping tabs on each other.” He nods toward the exit. “When Nick Armbrust came to fix the motorized ladder, I watched Gabe steer Lauren away so they didn’t interact. And Dean stepped in to shoo off some guy hitting on Lana when he wasn’t taking the hint from her.”
I laugh and take a sip of ginger beer. It’s spicy and bubbly and leaves my belly feeling like I’ve swallowed a fireworks display. “That bugs the crap out of Lana sometimes, being the baby and all.”
“And you, looking out for Cooper.” Griffin nods to where Coop’s striding toward the freshly replenished buffet table. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you keeping him supplied with booze-free beverages.”
“Just looking out for him.” I watch Police Chief Amy Lovelin track Cooper with her eyes as he moves across the room. Interesting.
Griffin lays a hand on the bar, and it’s all I can do not to lean over and rest my breasts on it. What the hell is wrong with me?
“I’m just saying,” he says. “I never had that as an only child. I’m sure there’s challenges growing up with five siblings, but it must
be nice knowing someone always has your back.”
“True. I probably take that for granted.”
Also, he probably had a point the other day about me walling myself off. I still can’t believe he talked me into taking a bigger role with this event, playing psychologist bartender. If it weren’t for Griff, I’d have been fine on the sidelines like always, watching, helping, but not really part of things like my siblings. “My family has its pluses.”
He smiles and brushes my knuckles with his fingertips. “And you’re right at the center of that. Mari in the middle.”
I roll those words around in my brain. My whole life, I’ve been the unseen middle child. The one not quite like the others. Even when I tried to fit in, I never quite did.
Or was that in my head? Maybe Griff’s right. Maybe I’m more integral than I thought.
He’s looking at me with heat in his eyes that has nothing to do with family dynamics. Like he sees something in me I’ve never seen before.
Like he wants to possess it.
I swallow hard, conscious of the crowd dwindling around us. The other bar is still open, so no one would notice if we slipped out. Just closed up this one, sprinted across the grounds under a starlit sky, and made our way to a cabin with a bed and curtains to shut out the rest of the world.
It would be so easy.
I know it isn’t. I know there are a million reasons I shouldn’t say what I’m about to say, but that doesn’t stop me from opening my mouth.
“Would you like to leave with me?” I ask. “Maybe go back to my place.”
The grin that lights his face brightens the whole bunker. There’s a phrase I never thought I’d use, but Griffin smiles like what’s happening here in this dim, earthy space is the most natural thing. Like the words I’ve just uttered aren’t the verbal equivalent of me splaying naked and exposed at his feet. Like I’m not holding my breath, waiting for his response.
“Yes.” He smiles so wide it transforms his whole body. “I’d love that more than anything.”
I’m nervous as I open my front door and usher Griffin inside. “I thoroughly cleaned and sanitized the dining table since last time.”
As foreplay goes, it’s not great.
Griffin quirks an eyebrow. “You’re wanting to do this on the table again?”
Heat floods my cheeks as I close the door behind us and pull my blinds closed. “No, I—I just didn’t want you to think I’m so incompetent in the kitchen that I had no concept of hygiene.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses the side of my neck. “I question many things about you, but competence isn’t one of them.”
I draw back, pressing my palms against his chest. “What do you question about me?”
“Lots of things.” He’s calm and unassuming as he goes back to kissing my throat, but I feel the hardness in his jeans. “I’ve wondered why you did Shrink to the Stars in the first place. It was amazing, but it doesn’t seem like your thing.”
“It was a good career opportunity.” I bite my lip as he kisses the top of my collarbone. “I wanted to work within the scope of competency for a niche demographic I’d trained to serve.”
“Okay.” He threads his fingers into my hair. “I love your hair like this, by the way.”
He gives the softest tug at the nape of my neck, tipping my head back so he can kiss lower. I groan and clutch the front of his shirt. “Oh,” I gasp, gripping him tighter as his tongue glides along my collarbone and heads south. “Also, that might not be the only reason.”
“You don’t say.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, sucking in a breath as he eases my shirt off one shoulder and skims his lips over the top of my breast. “I tried to fit in,” I choke out, no longer sure what I’m talking about. “The clothes, the spotlight. But none of it made me a real Judson—not like the others. So I ran as hard as I could the other direction—”
I swallow the rest of my words as Griffin’s lips close around my nipple and he draws me into his mouth. I’ve never been more grateful to go braless if I want. The soft, wet suction is indescribable, and I forget what we were talking about.
Griffin releases my nipple and kisses his way to the other breast. “You thought bright lights and fancy clothes were key to fitting in with your family,” he says between kisses. “But really, it’s about letting them in. Letting them see the real Mari and get close to her.”
I groan as his tongue circles my other nipple. I know I should argue. I’m the one with the psych degree. Surely this would have occurred to me if it were true.
But haven’t I told dozens of patients how tough it is to recognize what’s obvious to others? How tricky to see the forest for the trees? Maybe I’ve been kidding myself about why I’m the odd woman out in my family. Maybe I owe it to them, to myself, to be more present.
That’s exactly what I owe Griffin now.
I slide my palms from his chest to his back, devouring the ripple of muscle as I nudge him toward the hallway. “Bedroom,” I breathe.
“Okay.”
I hesitate, wondering if I should turn this into a sexy striptease. I’m hopelessly out of practice and unsure if I should shed my shirt or something else. Something more revealing.
Griffin smiles like he’s reading my thoughts. “Want to tell me something else?”
I nod, surprised that I do. It’s not remotely sexy, but I blurt it out anyway. “The reason I don’t cook is because my mother warned me I’d be tethered to the stove forever if I turned out to be as competent in the kitchen as I was in academia.”
Griffin grabs the hem of my top, tugging it off over my head. “Sound advice, coming from a woman who probably had an army of personal chefs.”
“You’re not wrong there.” Shirleen Judson, sex siren of the seventies, was a household name since before Griff was born, so I’m not surprised he has ideas of what it was like to be raised by her. “But she wasn’t wrong, either.”
“Oh?” His mouth finds my breast again, and I’m not sure he’s interested in the answer. I’ve forgotten what I was saying anyway as I tug off his shirt and back him through my bedroom door.
He comes up for air and angles us toward the bed. “Tell me more.” He hoists me up and tosses me onto the mattress like I weigh nothing. “Why wasn’t your mother wrong?”
Easing down on top of me, he presses me back and kisses his way down my sternum. I clutch his head and pray Leonard isn’t eavesdropping in the next room. It’d be just my luck TMZ would run an exclusive interview with my parrot.
“No man has ever expected me to cook or clean or rub his feet,” I murmur as Griffin unfastens my jeans. “So maybe my mother had a point.”
“Could be.” He undoes the buttons and drags the jeans down my legs, making me grateful I kicked my shoes off at the door. A few quick tugs and he’s bared me from the waist down as I claw at his zipper. “Could be she set out to make you less self-sufficient so you’d rely on her.” He grins and kisses his way from one hipbone to the other, pausing to trail upward and dip his tongue in my belly button. “But you got the last laugh.”
“Wh—what?” He’s kissing lower now, and I’m losing track of this conversation.
“You figured out how to be self-sufficient in your own way.”
I’ve never felt this bared, this exposed. Could be that I’m naked, but I don’t think so. I’ve spent my career rifling around in other people’s psyches, but no one’s done it to me.
I’ve never had anyone who wanted to.
“Maybe you’re right,” I murmur, not sure I’m accepting that. “But there’s one area where I’d prefer not to be so self-sufficient.”
He looks up from nuzzling my sex and smiles at me. “Oh?”
I sit up and reach for him, catching one rounded bicep in each palm. I drag him up my body, laughing as he struggles to shuck his jeans. “You’ve got the tools to deliver orgasms that blow the solo act out of the water,” I say as he settles between my thighs. “So how about we get to it?”
/>
He laughs and leans down to kiss me. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, and grabs for his wallet.
Chapter 10
CONFESSIONAL 719.5
Walsh, Griffin (Brewmaster: Juniper Ridge)
What does intimacy mean to me? Christ, you guys ask the weirdest questions. No, it’s fine. I’ll answer. [drags hand through hair] Let’s see…I guess it’s more than getting naked. That part’s great, don’t get me wrong. But you can get close without being actively inside another person. Sometimes it’s about sharing stuff you’ve never shared with anyone else. Being open, vulnerable…
Uh, can we stop now? Cut!
What do you mean I can’t yell “cut?”
I’ve got the condom on, but I catch myself hesitating.
Not that I have any doubt about making love to Mari. But I want to savor this moment, poised above her with lean arms around my shoulders and the citra scent of her hair filling my senses. I want to remember this forever, the glint of light in those silver-gold eyes, the way her lips part and she gasps as I graze her slick center.
“God, you’re gorgeous.”
She laughs and clenches her thighs around my hips. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls you’re poised to penetrate.”
The quip is lighthearted, but I recognize a defense mechanism when I hear it. From her, anyway. “There’s no one like you, Mari.” I’m not going to invoke my ex-wife in a moment like this, but I want her to understand. “There’s never been anyone like you.”
She closes her eyes, and I’m not sure if she’s retreating inside herself or this moment. When she opens her eyes, I see tears glinting at the edges of her lashes. “Why are you like this?”
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s the last thing I expected her to say. “I’m sure you say that to all the guys poised to penetrate you.”
Her laugh flutters out as she clenches her thighs, probably afraid I’ve changed my mind. But I’m not going anywhere.
And surprisingly, neither is she. “I just—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I put up walls, and I catalogued excuses, and I was so sure I could use my brain to keep my heart from running the show.”
