Saving Grace (10 page)

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” She grinned. She was the CFO. She needed full run of the house and would take it. “Didn’t listen to it then, either. Boundaries are for wimps, and I’m the mighty Treble Clef.”

Clementine barked in agreement.

“My office is my personal space. No one goes in there but me.” His voice was firm.

“I was in there for hours. I sat in your chair, riffled through your drawers, and I even licked your stapler. A good time was had by all.” Grace did her best to sound serious.

“Licked my stapler did you?” He cocked an eyebrow. “How about the tape? What did you do with it?”

“That’s private, and I’ll thank you not to ask again.” Grace stuck her nose in the air and tried to sound haughty.

“Racing desk chairs sounds cool.” HW nodded. “What happens if we wreck?”

“Get up and shake it off.” She tilted her head to the side. “The goal is not to wreck. We’re not playing desk chair bumper cars. You lose points if you’re bloody.”

“Darn.” His face deflated.

“Next is the scavenger hunt, and finally the water balloon fight.” Grace had put together this little plan while cooking dinner.

Clementine yipped and dove under the dinner table to avoid the barrage of water balloons he knew were coming for him. The table vibrated because he was shaking so hard.

“It’s okay, boy. We’ll call them H2O balloons from now on.” Grace winked.

“Scavenger hunt?” CoCo rolled her eyes. At least she was staying in character. “That’s not fair because you know where everything is.”

“I won’t be participating. Someone has to keep score.” Grace turned to Chord. “And since you were some famous football person—”

“Quarterback…I was a Quarterback,” he said with fake righteous indignation.

“Whatever…you can only throw the water balloons with your left arm. No unfair advantage.”

“That’s just mean.” Chord glanced at his children, one at a time. “Y’all are going down.”

“Yeah, right old man.” HW elbowed his brother in his ribs for support. “We’re going to run you over.”

He and Cart nodded.

“Don’t make me laugh. All three of y’all,” CoCo pointed to them all in turn, “are mine. The only thing y’all will see of me is my heel stomping all over you.”

Every family bonded differently. Apparently trash talk was a huge family pass time.

They all looked at Grace. Trash talk had never been her thing. “I’m going to pound you into the ground.” Her voice was high and squeaky.

“That was pathetic.” Chord shook his head. “I don’t know about y’all, but I just lost all respect for Grace.”

“Wait.” Grace slapped the table. “I’m going to beat the crap out of you?”

“It loses something when you have to ask it.” Chord continued to shake his head. “It’s a shame what the world is coming to when an intelligent woman can’t even trash talk.”

“I’m going to wipe the floor with you.” She made sure her voice didn’t go up in question, but she was willing to admit it was weak.

“Stop.” Chord put his hands over his ears. “I can’t take anymore.”

CoCo smiled kindly and touched Grace’s hand. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Maybe we could work on it later. I’ll help you.”

“You should take her up on her offer of tutoring. CoCo’s a natural at it…been upholding that family tradition since she learned to speak.” Pride radiated from Chord.

“Sure, why not?” One day trash talking might be a saleable skill.

“What do we win?” HW nodded in anticipation. “For the Super Hero Olympics?”

“Win?” Prizes hadn’t occurred to her. “Um…”

She glanced around like a trophy would jump out and wave.

They all stared eagerly at her.

Her gaze landed on the fruit bowl, she pulled it to her, and dumped out the bananas, oranges, and one lone apple. “Behold the Bowl of Courage. Should you best your other Super Heroes, you will receive the Bowl of Courage.”

“Really?” HW arched an eyebrow. “We get some dumb bowl.”

“It’s either that or the Rock of Knowledge directly from the backyard.” Grace held the red glazed fruit bowl up like she was a game show hostess trying to sell it. “The Bowl of Courage.”

“More like the Bowl of Lame.” HW took his turn rolling his eyes. “How about an iTunes gift card?”

He sounded so hopeful.

“Nope. Bowl of Courage…but only if you win. If I were competing, I’d rip you up into little, itty, bitty pieces, and then I’d shred you too.” She pounded the table for effect.

Clementine stuck his head out, shook it sadly, and went back under the table.

“Grace.” Chord rubbed his temples like he was in excruciating pain. “Your trash talk is actually getting worse. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Come on. That was pretty good.” Grace nodded. “Right?”

Chord propped his chin on his elbow. “Trash talking is like archery. Without the proper training you’re liable to shoot yourself in the foot or worse, injure the public at large. For the safety of all those around you, put your arrows away.”

“I’m not that bad.” Grace turned to CoCo for support.

“Don’t look at me. I’m doing my best to ignore you.”

“Fine.” Grace pulled back from the table. “Dishes in the sink, rinse them off, and then let the games begin.”

Her goal had been to give them all a fun evening, she hadn’t taken into account how competitive they all were. Fun might be a stretch.

***

Three hours later, Chord sat behind his desk and stared at the Bowl of Courage. Even though Cart had won it, the family—including Grace—had decided that it should go in the family trophy cabinet in Chord’s home office. Grace had even gotten him to agree to have open office hours daily from seven to eight in the evening so family members could gaze upon the trophy with pride.

She had been in his inner sanctum twice. He could trust her. She wasn’t like Alice, and he fought the urge to slip the playbook into the top drawer and lock it away.

Grace wanted full access to his life. He wasn’t sure he was ready to give it. Trust was hard—she had his, but it had limits. He narrowed his eyes. He trusted her with his kids, but not with his precious playbook. How screwed up was that?

He eyed the yellow spiral with his inner most thoughts, play diagrams, and notes. When Alice had taken his first one, it had been more than theft, it had been a violation. She’d stolen what amounted to his personal journal—true, he was a guy and journaling was for girls, but this qualified…sort of.

This was stupid, he should take it to her right now and show it to her. It’s not like she’d understand anything in it, because she was the only person in American who didn’t care about football. If he showed it to her, he’d conquer his phobia and they could move on.

He picked it up and stood. He sat back down. Not yet, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, it was that he wasn’t ready. Grace didn’t need to take over every part of his life. He was entitled to keep some things to himself. He tossed the spiral on his desk and made himself mentally change course.

The Hero Olympics. He’d never had more fun competing in anything. Before today, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything fun with his kids. Before Grace, his life had become a series of juggling catastrophes, now she’d smoothed out his personal life so much that he could sit back and enjoy the ride.

He laced his fingers behind his head. He could actually date—get out there—meet someone nice. Only he didn’t want to. He’d already met someone nice, and she wouldn’t go out with him. She’d moved into his house, cooked his meals, watched over his children, and had taken control of his life. For all intents and purposes, she was his wife—only there was no personal contact. Marriage without sex—it was hell on earth. He lived under a look-but-don’t-touch rule that he didn’t believe in or fully understand. They were both adults, and it was just sex. Once they’d tired of each other, they would end it and move on. Their lives didn’t have to change.

He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk. Only the thought of her moving on to another man pissed him the hell off. Usually, he reserved mad for work. His home life evened out the mad by calming him. At least it did now.

What kind of man would Grace go for? Probably someone artsy and cerebral. Chord could picture some snotty musician waltzing into her life and snatching her up. He wanted to strap the bastard to his car and use him as a hood ornament.

He should be the one to snatch her up…only nothing lasted forever. Maybe she was right, they should keep things professional. They had a good thing going.

He gritted his teeth. They may have something good, but it could turn into something wonderful…or it could become a nightmare of epic proportions. He smiled to himself. That was the fun of the game. In the beginning, it could go either way, but in the fourth quarter, there usually was a clear winner.

Grace knocked on the open door as she stepped into his office. “I need some time off.”

Damn, he’d forgotten to close the door. How had that happened? He always closed the door.

“Sure.” He shrugged. What did she do in her free time? “When?”

“What evenings are you free to watch the kids?” She sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

It seemed crowded with her in here.

“Let me check.” He wiggled the mouse and his MacBook Pro came to life. After clicking the calendar at the bottom of the screen, the month view pulled up. “It looks like I’m free tomorrow night or Sunday. What’s up?”

“I have a date.” She smiled.

He stared at her while the words sunk in. “With who?”

“None of your business.” She stood. “I’ll tell him that tomorrow’s fine. A Monday night date. Oh, and can I have Sundays off too. You know as my permanent day off?”

“Sure, I guess.” He wasn’t over the date thing. “Who is he?”

“Does it matter?” She turned to go.

“Yes, I think I need to meet him.”

“Why?” Her eyes narrowed.

“You know…in case he ever comes over while I’m not here. I need to know the people my kids spend time with.” It was lame, but the best he had. Oddly, a part of him felt like he was losing her…but he’d never really had her to begin with.

“I promise to keep my personal life separate from my professional life.” She walked out of his office.

She had a date—with another man. Chord sat up straight. Another man would have Grace all to himself. He would touch her and laugh with her and probably kiss her good night. What else would he do with her?

Chord pushed back from his desk as hard has he could, rolled back, and banged against the wall. His 2013 team pictured came crashing down from the wall knocking him in the head. Damnit, that hurt. He rubbed the back of his head.

Grace had a date…with someone else.

Son of a bitch.

The next morning, after dropping off the kids, Chord sat behind his huge wooden desk in his stadium office and tried to focus on the three design sample boards the decorator, Jessica, had sent over.

He picked up the first one. Different shades of green radiated nature in a Kermet-the-Frog, wood nymph kind of way. Was he a green person? He’d never thought of himself as a lover of green. He didn’t hate green, but grass-green walls and green furniture was too much.

He tossed that one on the floor and picked up the next board. It was pale yellows. The paint color resembled his last urine test. He tossed that one on the floor.

The next sample board had a swatch of brown leather and a design of a sofa and chair that looked overstuffed and comfortable. The paint was kind of a dirty white and the material was the color of a ripe peach. It wasn’t bad. Was he a brown-leather, peachy sort of guy?

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Grace to see what she thought, and then he remembered that he wasn’t speaking to her because she had a date with some mystery guy. He threw the sample board on the floor.

Grace wouldn’t go out with him, but she’d sure found someone else in a big damn hurry. With his palms, he rubbed his eyes. It didn’t matter. Grace was free to date whomever she chose. But it did matter— to him.

He wanted to be the one to get dressed up and take her out to dinner. They would go to Jeffrey’s or some other restaurant—whatever she liked. He’d wear khakis and a sport coat, and she’d wear a dress. They would laugh and talk about the kids or the meaning of life or nothing at all. There wouldn’t be those weird, awkward lapses in conversation common on first dates because Grace always had something funny to say. He loved trying to figure out how her mind worked, and he never knew what she’d do or say next.

He leaned back in his desk chair and propped his feet on the desk, crossing his legs at the ankle. She’d rejected him.

Thinking back, he didn’t ever remember being rejected by a woman. He sifted through his memory. Nope, never been rejected. He pursed his lips. It freaking sucked. The worst part was since she was his friend, he wanted to talk to her about it, but he couldn’t very well pick up the phone and discuss her with her. Not only had she blown into his life, but she’d sneaked up behind him and became his friend and confidant.

Not only did it hurt that he couldn’t pick up the phone and tell her about this great new lady who’d piqued his interest, but he felt cheated he couldn’t talk to her about it.

He glanced at the sample boards on the floor, and he wanted her opinion on those. He’s always been a decisive man, but he was willing to admit having someone else to discuss things with, bounce ideas off of, and to have a fresh viewpoint was nice. It’s not that he couldn’t make this decision without Grace, but he didn’t want to.

But she was going out with another man. It shouldn’t matter, but he was disappointed. He felt left out. Tonight was going to suck. There was no way around it.

***

That evening, Grace put on her favorite red sundress, slipped a light denim jacket over it, and stepped into her red sandals. The evening was in the sixties, so not chilly but not exactly warm.

In her attached bathroom, she swirled on some mascara, brushed on some blush, and applied a light coat of red lip gloss.