Saving Grace (6 page)

Chord grimaced. She might not be his Grace, but possession was nine-tenths of the law, and right now, Devon was in possession of the wrong woman.

“Devon, stop hitting on my…” What was Grace? She was more than his employee, and nanny didn’t fit. He’d shared more about himself last night with her than he’d shared with his wife during their entire marriage.

“CFO. I’ve decided I want to be called the Chief Family Officer.” Grace stood. “I’m showing Devon how to make coconut pie.”

Was that some new secret code for sex?

“That’s right coach. I’m thinking about opening a bar-b-que restaurant, and Grace was kind enough to share her aunt’s famous coconut pie recipe with me.” Devon’s hand was on Grace’s upper back. Chord didn’t like seeing another man touching Grace. It shouldn’t bother him, but it did.

“Okay Devon, let’s go. I know we were supposed to meet at eight, and I apologize. Let’s head to the office.” Chord waited for the big guy to remove his hand from Grace, but he didn’t.

“The only place you’re going is back to bed. I’ve cancelled your appointments today because you’re sick.” Grace dipped a spoon in the bowl in front of her and came up with some thick light brown custard. She held it out for Devon to taste. “See how that pinch of cinnamon enhances the coconut flavor?”

Chord stared at her for a full ten seconds. “You did what?”

“Yeah, it’s coconutier, but I don’t taste the cinnamon.” Devon nodded. “Good call.”

“I cancelled your day. You need to rest.” Grace handed the spoon to Devon and walked over to Chord. She put her hand on his forehead. “You still have a fever. Go back to bed. I’ll bring you something to eat in a minute.”

“You cancelled my day.” Chord waited for the punch line, but one didn’t come. “Why?”

“Because you’re sick. As Chief Family Officer, I bequeathed unto myself the power to make decisions regarding your welfare and that of the public at large. As long as you have a fever, you’re contagious. Go to bed, before we all get sick.” Grace pointed in the direction of the stairs. “Move. Now.”

A coach’s whistle blew in his backyard. Chord walked to the window. CoCo, wearing Lone Stars sweats and pink high-heeled shoes had a whistle in her mouth and was pointing to Pete Masterson and Davy Stubbins. Chord looked closer. The entire starting defensive line was running plays in his backyard, and CoCo appeared to be coaching. “Why is the defensive line here?”

“When your boss called the house to find out why you hadn’t answered your cell, I told him you were sick. He was kind enough to have his assistant, Candy, cancel your day. You were supposed to meet the defensive linemen on the field. Since they were waiting for you, they came to check on you. Bobby somebody—the defensive line coach—just left because his wife’s water broke, and they needed to get to the hospital.” Grace licked coconut pie filling off her index finger. “By the way, you sent a lovely Edible Arrangement that will be delivered to St. David’s tomorrow.”

Devon nodded. “It’s really nice. Lots of chocolate covered strawberries.”

“And Coco. Why is Coco coaching?” Maybe Chord was dreaming. Grace had taken over his life, and she and Devon were standing in his kitchen talking about chocolate covered strawberries?

“She and Coach Bobby Whats-his-face were discussing your notes about some sloppy foot placement or drill thingy? I really wasn’t paying attention. Anyway, CoCo noticed incorrect hip roll placement or striking distance or something. Coach Bobby gave her the whistle and set her loose.” Grace made it sound like it was perfectly normal that his fourteen-year-old daughter was coaching the Super Bowl defending champion’s defensive line.

“She’s kicking their asses, coach. Anyone who doesn’t run a perfect trap drill has to swim a mile…in the lake. This time of year, that water’s cold.” Devon’s voice held respect.

Chord couldn’t help his smile. CoCo had always loved football as much as he did. “And the heels?”

She knelt down and fixed Rich Denby’s foot placement.

“Bobby said she was too short for them to take seriously so I lent her my highest heels.” Grace sounded like it was a perfectly logical solution to the problem.

There was nothing he could say to that. He glanced outside again. Keshan Dawkins had his feet too far apart. CoCo rammed her high-heel into his ankle until he moved his foot to the correct spot. Good girl. CoCo didn’t take shit and didn’t back down—he loved that about her.

“Back to bed. Now.” Grace grabbed his arm and tugged, but he didn’t move. “Don’t make me call in the defensive line to carry you back to bed.” Her eyes turned hard. “Because I will.”

“Coach, you’d better go. Grace has a temper.” Devon nodded. “You should have seen what she did when,” he glanced wearily at her, “one of the guys brought up the…” He mouthed ‘nipple episode’. “She smacked him on the ear with a wooden spoon and took away his loaf of banana bread. Want to see a grown man cry, take away his banana bread.”

“Banana bread?” He looked at Devon and Grace and then back to Devon. “I don’t understand.”

“I was making banana bread when the team showed up. They were hungry

. . . it was like watching a pack of hyenas pounce on a gazelle.” She leaned into him. “Don’t worry, I managed to save you a piece. Now, back to bed.”

Chord’s head pounded, and he didn’t know if it was from the flu or the surreal turn his life had taken. Just twenty-four short hours ago, his life had made sense, now Devon was hitting on Grace, CoCo was coaching the defensive line, and the boys…“Where are the boys?”

Grace tugged on his arm again, and this time he allowed her to pull him to the stairs. “They’re overseeing the swimming. Someone named Billy Pruett is on mile two because of a sloppy hand V or something. To make things fair, I dug around in your office and came up with whistles for the boys too.”

“You went in my office? I don’t ever let anyone in there. It’s locked for a reason.” That reason was Alice. Before she’d stolen his playbook and sold it to the highest bidder, costing them the championship, he’d never locked it. Now, even his kids weren’t allowed in there.

“I grabbed your keys and tried them all until I found the right one.” Grace made it sound like breaking and entering was no big deal.

“Don’t do it again.” He hadn’t meant it to sound so harsh. It had only taken once, but he now guarded that playbook with his life.

“Yes sir.” She gave him a snooty salute and stomped ahead of him.

Here she was doing all of this for him and he was being an ass.

“It’s just I don’t let anyone in there. Not since Alice.” He swallowed the ball of anger he still felt. “She stole my playbook on her way out. It cost me the championship and almost my job.”

Grace turned around and waited. “I don’t understand.”

There was interest on her pretty face.

“It’s a book where I write down team info, new plays I come up with, you know, notes I make about players and so forth.” He shouldn’t be telling her all of this. The little voice inside his head said he couldn’t trust her, but the mounting headache won out.

“So it’s an actual book?” She shook her head. “Why isn’t it on the computer? No one handwrites anything anymore.”

He’s never given it much thought. “I don’t know. I’ve just always had a spiral where I write things down.”

“Wake up and smell the modern age. We have electricity and indoor plumbing. Only cavemen write things by hand.” She slipped an arm around his waist to help support him. He was more than a little shaky. “Consider modernizing. That way you can password protect everything and no one can steal from you.”

“It’s not a bad idea.” He’d have to ponder that one. “So you got the boys a couple of whistles?”

“Yes, fair is fair. CoCo has one.” She hunched her shoulders.

“So now my kids can take over my team.” He nodded. “Maybe after I take a nap, this will all make sense. Right now, I feel like I’m living in a sitcom.”

“I hope its Psych. I love that show. I can’t believe it ended.” Grace patted his arm.

“Do you take over everywhere you go, or am I just really lucky?” His head felt like it was about to fall off his shoulders and roll around on the floor.

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a self-starter. It says so on my resume. Maybe you should have asked for one before you hired me.”

“Hindsight.” He yawned. “The next Mary Poppins who blows into my life…I’ll demand a resume and references.”

Grace nodded. “Good call.”

They reached his door. She opened it for him and helped him into bed.

“Try not to run my life into the ground while I’m asleep.” He yawned again, and if felt so good to lie down.

“I can’t make any promises.” She turned to go.

He felt for her hand and traced the calluses on the pads of her fingers. “If anymore of the offensive line shows up, don’t feed them or they’ll never leave. They’re worse than cats.”

“Okey dokey, I’ll tell Clint Grayson you called him a cat when he stops by later.” The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled. She had pretty eyes—big and girly with long lashes. His gaze started at her head and worked his way down. The rest of her wasn’t bad either. Not a conventional beauty, but a willowy dancer who’s every move was graceful and deliberate.

“What did you do? Go through the contacts on my phone and dial at random?” In less than two days, she’d moved into his life and taken over.

“No. He was on the phone with Devon when I brought up the coconut pie recipe. Apparently Clint’s wife, Summer, has a recipe that he thinks is better than mine so they’re bringing it over later for a taste test. Somehow Devon’s mom heard about the coconut pie bake off and now she’s coming too.”

Chord shook his head. “I don’t get it. My life used to be so normal.”

“Your welcome.” Her smile brightened a notch.

“I wasn’t thanking you.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but who’s judging the contest?”

She turned serious. “There was some debate about that. Some of the guys wanted you, but in the end, Devon called the local chapter of the National Organization of Sports Officials, and they’re sending over a referee. Everyone agreed it was the best option.”

“How could all this have happened? I only over slept by like four hours?” Grace made life fun. She’d certainly turned his world upside down. “Any chance I can get some of the banana bread before my nap?”

“I’ll run some right up.” She unlinked her hands and leaned to kiss him on the cheek. “Feel better.”

The pillows drew him in and his eyes got heavy. Grace kept him on his toes. He liked her…damn if he didn’t.

Grace sat around the kitchen table flanked on either side by Clint’s wife Summer and Devon’s mother, Sweet Louise Harding—her coconut pie nemeses had both become fast friends. As soon as she’d met both ladies, she sensed kindred spirits. Summer was tall and lovely and immediately put Grace at ease. Sweet Louise was round, blonde and sultry—the fifty something year old woman carried herself with an air of carefully banked sexuality that was reminiscent of a 1950’s pinup girl. The fact that she was thirty pounds overweight only added extra vavavavoom to her every step.

“Honey, you deserved the win. Your pie is fantastic.” Sweet Louise’s southern accent was deep Tennessee Smokey Mountains. “I don’t mind losing since you gave me the recipe.”

Grace glanced at her trophy—a bowling pin that had been spray painted gold. The words, “pie in the sky” had been written on it in red glitter glue. “I am kinda proud. If the competition hadn’t been so tough, it wouldn’t be such an honor.”

“You’re just being nice.” Summer Grayson ran her finger around the edge of the plate scraping up the last molecule of Grace’s coconut pie. “I never thought of using coconut in the crust.” She repositioned herself on the chair and put her hand over her hugely pregnant stomach. “Baby Julia likes your pie. She just kicked up a two thumbs up.”

Grace smiled. “When are you due?”

“I still have a month.” She massaged her lower back and then sat back. “Clint alternately bounces off the walls with excitement and worries that I’m going to die during the delivery.”

Sweet Louise covered Summer’s hand. “In my experience men are crazy. They worry about the strangest things. When I went into labor, my Johnny fainted and hit his head. When I called 9-1-1, they sent two ambulances, one for me and one for him.” She smiled to herself, and her light blue eyes glazed over caught in the memory. “He bought me the biggest diamond ring he could afford as a push present, because he felt guilty at missing the birth.”

“Clint will probably have to be sedated.” Summer grinned. “He bought a sonogram machine so he can take pictures of the baby all of the time.”

“That man is crazy about you.” Sweet Louise nodded. “Speaking of crazy, I hear Alice called Coach the other day.”

Grace sat up. Alice, the ex-wife—stealer of the mysterious playbook and all around evil witch.

“What did she want?” Summer rolled her eyes. “From what I hear, that woman is toxic.”

“You don’t know that half of it.” Sweet Louise patted Summer’s hand and then pulled hers away. “She screwed Coach over and broke his heart. If he wasn’t the strongest person I know, he’d have crumbled.”

“What was she like?” It was out of Grace’s mouth before she could stop it. She told herself she wanted to know because of the kids, but that wasn’t strictly true. She wanted to know what kind of woman could leave Chord. He was a good man, and those were hard to find.

“Alice is a selfish, snotty, bitch who loves making people as unhappy as she is.” Sweet Louise blew out a long breath and sat back. “I met her a year or two into their marriage and hated her instantly. She didn’t give a damn about her kids, she was into the marriage for what she could get out of it. Coach treated her like a princess, gave her everything she ever wanted, but she was screwing around on him with her yoga instructor. One day, she up and ran off. Left him a goodbye note on the kitchen table. She didn’t even mention the children.”

“Wow.” Grace didn’t know what to say. CoCo, HW, and Cart were now part of her life. If she ever had to leave them, it would hurt so deeply…she shivered. She didn’t ever want to leave them.