Saving Grace (5 page)

Then she was gone.

It occurred to him that in the last twenty minutes, they’d had more of an honest conversation than he’d ever had with his wife. Grace spent the afternoon with his kids and learned more about them than Alice ever cared to know. Normally, he didn’t trust people this easily, but there was something about Grace that put his mind at ease. He liked to make her smile. It felt good to make her laugh.

The soft pillows and familiar bed pulled his eyelids closed. He should see about the kids. The pounding in his head eased a bit. He didn’t need to worry about the kids. Grace was here and she’d make sure they were okay.

At eleven-thirty that night, Graces’s phone beeped with a new text. She pulled it out of her back pocket.

Thanks for the waters. Is it too late to take you up on that food offer?

It was from Chord. Earlier, she’d taken up four bottles of water on ice in a silver champagne bucket—mainly because she’d been amused there were actually people who owned champagne buckets. Along with the water, she’d left him a note asking him to text if he wanted dinner.

She tossed the dishrag she’d used to wipe down the kitchen counter tops and turned to the stove where a large pot of homemade chicken noodle soup sat simmering. For dinner she’d fixed pork chops, but Chord was sick, so that called for chicken noodle soup. She and the kids had made it together. They’d cut the carrots, onions, celery, and garlic, and she cooked it all down. Not her best chicken soup, but the kids had felt important helping to make something for their dad.

She texted back she’d be up in a minute with dinner.

After grabbing two more water bottles and the silver tray she’d found in the closet under the stairs, she ladled a bowl full of chicken soup, turned it off, and put the lid on the pot. She’d deal with putting it away after it cooled. She added a spoon and a napkin to the tray before hoisting it up.

Five minutes later, she walked into Chord’s bedroom. He was sitting up, his eyes were watery, his nose was red, and his color was sallow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look terrible.”

“I feel terrible.” He eyed the steaming bowl. “I bet that smells good, only my nose is stopped up.”

“My homemade chicken noodle soup. The kids helped me make it. Just so you know, HW left you his favorite blue blanket so you would have nice dreams, but he needed it back so he could sleep. He went through quite a personal crisis trying to figure out if it was okay to take it back from you.” She set the tray on his lap.

“He’s slept with that blanket since Alice left. I told him it would always give him nice dreams. He had bad ones after she left.” He picked up the spoon. “Looks good.”

Alice? Talking about the ex-wife didn’t seem awkward for him. Poor HW. She’d have to take extra good care of him and his blue blanket.

Gingerly, he took a sip. “Wow, this is good.”

“Of course it’s good, the kids put lots of love for daddy into it.” She touched his forehead. “You still have a fever.”

Grace picked up the box of cold medicine and noted that he’d taken two tablets. She checked the indications and found it did have a fever reducer in it. “How long ago did you take this?”

She was a good nurse. Maybe if the singing bug hadn’t caught her, she might have gone to nursing school and followed in her aunt’s footsteps.

It didn’t escape her attention that a few days ago he’d thrown her out, and now she was taking care of him. Life was weird.

“Just now. When I woke up.” He spooned another mouthful and patted the bed next to him. “Sit.” He said around the soup. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” She walked around the bed. Was he sending her packing? She’d had fun today. It would suck to not get to hang out with the kids tomorrow. The fact that it was borderline inappropriate for her to get in bed next to a man she hardly knew did cross her mind. She climbed up onto the giant swirly brass bed. “What’s on your mind?”

“You. How about a job?” He set the spoon down. “Since I don’t seem to be able to keep my kids away from you, how about watching them full time?”

“Like a nanny?” She was a singer, not a nanny. But the kids kind of needed her. It felt nice to be needed. God knew she could use the money.

“You can choose whatever title you’d like, but I need a live-in. Someone the kids and I can count on. You don’t have to cook.” He pointed to the bowl. “But it would be okay if you did sometimes…you know if you wanted because this is amazing.”

“CoCo told me y’all eat out all of the time.” A job and a free place to live. Maybe she could still sing a couple of nights a week. It wasn’t a bad idea. She would make it work.

“I don’t know what your situation is, but I’d love it if you could move right in and start now. I’ll pay you fifty dollars an hour, up to forty hours a week, and then sixty for overtime. The position comes with a family car, full medical, dental, and vision and an expense account to take the kids on outings.”

The saddest part was she could move in right this minute. Her clothes were in her trunk. She wasn’t about to tell him that. Poverty sucked, and it was embarrassing.

“Outings? Are you suddenly British?” The kids needed her. She’d have a roof over her head, and she could sing when she wanted to, not because she needed the money. She’d make enough in a week to pay almost two months of Uncle Vernon’s rent. But she wasn’t a sellout, and Chord’s way of parenting didn’t work. “I’ll consider it, but I have a couple of things I want. First, when it comes to discipline we discuss everything. Kids need boundaries and right now, yours don’t have any.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

“I’m not trying to piss you off, I’m just telling it like it is.”

“I don’t believe in spanking. Hitting children sends the wrong message.” He met her eyes. “I’m firm on this.”

“I don’t believe in spanking either, and I think, your kids are too old for that anyway. All I ask is that we discuss punishment when rules are broken. Kids need rules and there needs to be consequences for not following them. We can discuss those consequences as we go, but I want your word that you won’t brush things under the carpet like you did with CoCo when she snuck out.” She was firm on this.

“And the other demand?” He cocked an eyebrow expecting her to ask for the world.

She scanned the room, taking it all in. “My second demand is that you redo this terrible room. I don’t plan on spending much time in here, but when I do, I can’t stand all this pink.”

“Done.” He nodded and held out his hand.

“Deal.” She took it, shook, and let go. Working here and mostly on her terms…life was good.

“Eat up.” She settled back against the pillows. “Mind if I teach CoCo some self-defense techniques? She could have used them last week.”

“Be my guest.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, and then sighed. “How bad was it?”

“The asshole didn’t get very far with her. I stepped in and kneed him in the nuts. I’m pretty sure he walked funny for a few days.” Grace couldn’t help the pride in her voice. Taking someone down to save an innocent girl was good karma.

He threw up a fist for her to bump. “Thanks. I seem to be saying that a lot lately.”

She gave him a pound. “No worries.”

“It’s funny. Last week I damn near threw you out, and now you’re moving in.” His eyes narrowed. “It was pretty windy last Thursday. You don’t happen to have an umbrella with a parrot on the handle?”

“Nope, I do have one that’s red with cows all over it.” Grace smiled. “Are you implying that I’m Mary Poppins?”

“You did kind of blow into my life.” He spooned in more soup.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m just plain Grace Kelley. Besides, I doubt Mary Poppins would have flashed her nipple on live TV.”

“You have a point.” He opened one of the bottles of water and chugged half of it. “At the risk of a sexual harassment suit, it was a nice nipple.”

“Thanks.” She should feel uncomfortable, but she didn’t. He wasn’t hitting on her, just stating a fact. “Apparently, I have a legion of Twitter followers who know me only as NippleLady107. I’d rather have been known for my stellar performance instead of my nipple.”

“I hear ya.” He toasted her with the water. “I’d like to be known for my two Super Bowl wins instead of the fumble that tore my knee in the fourth quarter of my last game. In our society, it’s the mistakes that define you.”

“I have a confession. I don’t know much about football.” She crossed her legs at the ankles and relaxed back.

“Oh My God. How can you call yourself an American and not know about football?” He sounded honestly scandalized.

“I’m not really an American. I’m British remember, Mary Poppins is too busy singing and dancing on rooftops to watch football.” She smiled. “From what I’ve seen of football fanatics in the bars I’ve worked, football involves consuming massive amounts of cheap beer, and yelling at the TV.”

“What about high school? I can tell by your Texas accent that you grew up here. Didn’t you participate in those Friday Night lights?” He downed the other half of the water.

“No, I was too busy partaking in the cheap beer portion of the Friday night ritual.” She picked at a stray thread on her jeans. “I tried very hard to make the small town of Bullard, Texas forget Uncle Vernon and Aunt Shirley were fantastic role models.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“They were killed by a drunk driver when I was two. I don’t remember them.” She didn’t mean to sound matter of fact, but she hadn’t really known them.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I had a great childhood. I grew up on a farm with a large family full of laughter, no rules, and lots of Jesus. It was interesting.” She finally pulled the string and put it out of its misery.

“That’s why you like rules.” He nodded. “I had the opposite. I grew up in Dallas and had lots of rules. My father was a big believer in ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’. It sucked.”

“Maybe we can find a happy medium. It’s like on the football field. Do you let the players do whatever they want?” Since she knew as much about football as she did about nuclear physics, she hoped the answer was no.

“No, if I gave them free rein, it would be anarchy.” He took a deep breath and relaxed back against the pillows. “I see your point.”

He opened the other water. “But I never got to do anything fun growing up. It was all football and homework, hell, I couldn’t even date that much because I had to be home by ten.”

“Yes, I can see that about you, virgin on your wedding night.” She laughed at the idea. If he’d made it out of high school as a virgin, she was a male stripper.

“I might have missed out on a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.” One side of his mouth turned up in a shit-eating grin. “Lisa Davis took care of that for me my freshman year.” He took a long pull off the water. “Lisa had skills.”

“Would she say the same thing about you?”

Confusion muddled his grin, and then he shrugged. “Probably not. How about you?”

“I don’t know Lisa Davis.” She couldn’t resist.

He shot her a look.

“Okay, I was also a freshman and his name was Brady. I don’t remember his last name. I’m not going to lie; it was disappointing. If I could go back in time, I’d tell myself to pick someone else…someone with more experience than I had.” She returned his shrug. “Well, water under the bridge. How about birth control?”

Carefully, he set the water bottle on the tray. “I’m in favor of it.” He glanced down at her breasts.

“Not me.” She folded her arms. “For CoCo. She told me she’s still a virgin, but there’s this boy she likes, and she’s open to having sex—”

“Stop talking.” He covered his ears. “I can’t know things like that about…her.”

“Why? You had sex at her age. Stop being so squeamish. She’s a woman now, and you need to discuss this with her. Would you rather end up a grandfather in nine months?” Grace observed as his face turned an interesting shade of beigey-green.

He grabbed the water and guzzled the rest. “Sorry, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.”

She elbowed him. “Stop being such a baby. Don’t you want for her to enjoy the comforts of her body? Sex is fun. You just said that you wanted your kids to have fun.”

“Not that much fun.” He looked so lost. “I meant board games and video games and going out with friends…not an orgy.”

She cocked her head to the left. “An orgy? Please, those don’t happen until college.”

Slowly, his gaze swept down her body. “Personal experience?”

It was her turn for the shit-eating grin.

“Wow, I’m not going to pretend that wasn’t hot.” His gray eyes held hers. Sexual tension crackled in the air around them.

Sleeping with the boss was a bad idea, and she’d already had more than her fair share of bad ideas. She needed this job, and the kids needed her. Having sex with their father would only lead to a bad breakup.

She scooted off the bed. “Let’s table this discussion for another time.” She power walked to the door.

“Coward.” He called after her.

“Bite me, flu boy.” She called back as she stepped into the hall.

“Yes, ma’am. Any place in particular?” He laughed.

They might flirt, but they weren’t ever going to sleep together. Mixing business and pleasure never ended well. She worked for him, which made Chord Robbins off limits.

At eleven-forty-five the next morning, Chord bolted upright. He was late. His first meeting was scheduled for eight. He rolled out of bed. His headache was back, but it wasn’t as bad. Thanks to an amazing orgy dream about Grace, he had a major hard-on. He raced to the shower, turned on the water, stripped down, and stepped in. The warm-ish water went a long way to making him feel human again. After soaping up, he quickly shaved, and washed his hair.

Ten minutes later, he was sprinting down the stairs and headed for the garage.

As soon as he hit the kitchen, he stopped short. Grace was bent over a mixing bowl, and there was a three-hundred pound offensive tackle shrink-wrapped around her. Devon Harding was a big man with a heart of gold, and the best damn offensive tackle in the history of football…but he was all over Grace.