Saving Grace (9 page)

“That’s no fair. You said I could do the next one.” Cart tried to grab the shovel, but HW held tight.

Chord stepped between the boys before a full-scale riot started. “Cart gets the next turn, and then on his day, you’ll get a turn.”

He took the shovel from HW and handed it to Cart.

Clementine ambled toward the sandpit with the massive swing set opposite the pool, and HW and Cart followed him.

Chord looked around. “Where’s CoCo?”

“She’s studying at Becca’s house. Don’t worry, I’ve called Becca’s mom and confirmed that they are actually there studying.” Grace dusted off her knees and stood.

Chord glanced over at the boys who were following Clementine around with a shovel waiting for him to poop. “How’d you get them to fight over who gets to shovel poop?”

She grinned, and her pretty eyes crinkled in the corners. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her…just a taste. Her lips would be soft, and he’d spent more time than he was willing to admit thinking about how she’d feel against him. He leaned down, his lips an inch from hers.

“No.” She stepped back. “We can’t. It’s a bad idea.”

“You keep saying that, but I can’t think of a reason we shouldn’t get to know each other better. We could go out to dinner…you know…a date.” His voice was higher than usual, and his heart pounded a mile a minute waiting for her answer.

“I can’t.” Sadness crept into her eyes. “It’s funny. You’re the first man I’ve been attracted to in a long time, but I can’t. Right now, I have to put the kids first and my uncle. I need this job, and I love it.”

She headed back to the grill.

A slow smile worked its way across his face. “When there’s something I want, I don’t give up. I’m not a quitter. I’ll wear you down. You’re going to go out with me…that’s a promise.”

He hadn’t won two Super Bowls as a quarterback and another two as a coach by throwing in the towel. He and Grace would go out, they would kiss, and they would sleep together. Sex with her…only he had a feeling that it wouldn’t just be sex—it would be so much more. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Stop eye-screwing me. We’re never going to be together,” Grace said as she picked up the tongs. “How do you like your steak?”

She rolled her eyes. “And don’t say rare and juicy just like you like your women.”

He closed his mouth and scratched the back of his head. He hadn’t been about to say that…okay, he might have. Grace was wrong, they would be together, and she would enjoy it. They had a future. Were they destined to end up walking down the aisle? The fact that his mind had taken him there was a scary thought.

Why had it gone there?

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d never thought to marry again. Once had been more than enough. Grace arranged green beans on the top grill shelf. She wasn’t Alice though and every relationship was different.

What would one with Grace be like? He smiled. Zany, fun, loving…more than anything he wanted to find out.

Two days later, Clementine was settling in nicely. He stepped onto his new dog pillows, walked around in a circle exactly three times, and then lowered his giant body onto the two pillows—because one wasn’t enough. Grace had set him up in the corner of the breakfast room. He still eyed the pool skeptically, but he no longer cowered behind her when he went outside. She loaded the last dirty dish into the dishwasher, popped in a dish tab, and closed the door. She leaned against the counter and inspected the kitchen. It was spotless.

CoCo walked in flanked by HW and Cart. She leaned on the island across from Grace.

“We need to talk to you.” CoCo was all seriousness.

“What happened?” She glanced from CoCo to the boys and back again.

“Nothing.” HW knelt down next to Clementine and petted him.

“Dad’s birthday is coming up. We’d like to throw him a party.” CoCo said. “A couple of weeks ago, I heard him tell Debra he’d never had a birthday party…even as a kid.” She shrugged. “He always throws us big parties so we wanted to do something for him.”

Grace nodded. “I’m in. What did you have in mind?”

She’s never had a birthday party either…well, except for a family party when she was a kid.

“How about a pool party?” Grace offered.

Clementine howled in protest.

Cart knelt beside him and hugged him. “No pool party, I promise.”

Grace smiled at the sound of his voice. Clementine may be a handful, but he’d opened up Cart in a way that would have taken her months.

CoCo sat in the kitchen chair closest to Clementine and used her bare foot to rub his back. “Something big, with all of his friends and the team. Some good food, music, and I don’t know…dancing? What do adults usually have at their birthday parties?”

“You nailed it. Food, drinks, conversations, and sometimes dancing depending on how good and plentiful the drinks are. Let me take some notes.” She walked to the cabinet under the phone, opened the drawer, and pulled out a legal pad and a pen. She wrote down CoCo’s suggestions. “Boys, what would you like?”

Cart chimed in. “I would like lots of balloons.”

HW looked pensive and then added. “I want a chocolate fountain.”

Grace turned back to CoCo. “Do you have a theme in mind, and did you want formal or casual?”

“No theme. I can’t see dad dressing up in a costume or anything. I think it needs to be casual.” She looked at the boys. “What do you think?”

The looked at each other and nodded.

“Casual, it is.” Grace was relieved. She didn’t have anything formal. She pulled at the ratty old T-shirt she was wearing—she barely had casual. Chord had given her the first week’s salary in advance, and she’d happily paid Uncle Vernon’s rent. Maybe next week she’d buy some new clothes. “When’s his birthday?”

“April first.” CoCo chewed on her lower lip.

Grace glanced at the calendar on the fridge. “That’s a little under two weeks away.”

“Yes.” CoCo nodded.

“Your father was born on April Fools Day?” Grace took a deep yoga calling breath and let it out. “So many things make sense about him now.”

“And we’re not playing a joke. His birthday really is on April Fools Day.” HW put on his serious face. If it had been only him, she’d have known he was pulling a prank, but all the kids were there.

“We need to make a guest list and then invitations, think about food…” Grace glanced at CoCo. “Do we want to have it catered? I suppose we’re having it at night so we need to serve food and drinks. We need a bartender—depending on the number of guests—maybe two.” She scribbled notes.

Thirty minutes later, they had a guest list.

Grace looked down at the five pages of names, made a note to call the Lone Stars’ office and ask for an employee list so no one would be left out, and flipped the rolled pages of the legal pad down. A party. She hadn’t thrown that many, but she’d been to lots.

“Are we keeping it a surprise?” Grace hadn’t thought to ask until now.

“Yes.” CoCo nodded. “A surprise.”

“Okay, operation candle is a go.” Grace winked.

“Operation candle?” HW looked confused.

“Every good covert plan needs a codename.”

“Oh, got it.” HW tried to wink back, but he blinked instead.

“So my birthday superheroes, I formally declare today—the last day of Spring Break—superhero Sunday!” Grace walked to the timer on the double ovens and set it for thirty minutes. “You have exactly thirty minutes to create and put on your costume—”

“That is so stupid.” CoCo rolled her eyes. “I’m not doing it.”

“Winner gets to pick the dessert we have with dinner and the movie we watch after.” Grace sighed heavily. “You know the boys will pick chocolate, and I know how much you
love
chocolate. Also get ready for Star Wars I again…it’s the only movie they watch.” She turned to them. “Don’t y’all want to know what happens in the other five movies?
The Phantom Menace
was just the beginning even though it wasn’t the first movie.”

“Nope.” HW said while Cart shook his head.

“Crap.” CoCo chewed on her lower lip. “I guess I can come up with something.” She drew out the last word. “But no pictures. I don’t want superhero night to end up on Instagram.”

“Snap Chat it is.” Grace patted her on the back. “Now, y’all get to it. Time’s wasting.”

***

Chord opened his car door, and stepped into his garage. As a rule, he didn’t work on Sundays, but with all the time he lost being sick he didn’t have a choice.

Man, he was tired. His body still wasn’t one hundred percent, and he was hungry. As soon as he opened the door, the scents of melted cheese, tomato sauce, and chicken had his stomach standing up and paying attention. He walked into the kitchen and stopped to appreciate the view. Grace—wearing a skin-tight silver bodysuit was bent over pulling a large pan out of the oven. Her long legs looked even longer, and now that he could make out the shape of them as they curved into her round backside, he knew for sure, they were some magnificent legs. Victoria’s Secret lingerie models would kill for those legs. What would she look like wearing only a bra and panties? He swallowed a mouth full of saliva. What would she look like wearing nothing at all?

She straightened and a dark pink cape fell into place. A cape? She turned around carrying a large dish with potholders. A pink mask covered her eyes and a treble clef made out of duct tape curled on her chest. “A mask?”

Grace jumped and almost dropped the pan. She set it on the counter. Breathing heavily, she put her hand to her heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“The mask?” Not that he didn’t like it. If she’d had some red boots and that American flag bustier, she could have been Wonder Woman. A smile spread across his face. That mental image would stay with him forever.

“I’m The Mighty Treble Clef.” She said by way of an explanation.

He waited for more, but she just stood there. “Am I missing something?”

“Nope. It’s Superhero Sunday. We all dressed up. My superhero power is song. I can break windows with my high C and lull the bad guys to sleep with a ballad.” She said it like it made perfect sense.

She pointed to Clementine who was snoring loudly from his pillow. “He’s Fraidy Cat.”

His orange lifejacket now sported an “FC” made out of duct tape on each side.

“Looks more like a lazy dog, but okay. Why are we having Super Hero Sunday?”

She shrugged. “Last day of Spring Break. You gotta celebrate somehow.”

“Of course.” He glanced down. The silver material clung to her breasts. Super Hero Day had its advantages. “What do I get if I dress up?”

Her eyes turned all shrewd businesswomen. “What do you want?”

“A date—just you and me.” His plan was to keep asking until she said yes.

“No.” She fiddled with the aluminum foil covering the pan. When she pulled back a corner, the scent of Italian heaven wafted out. “Mixing business and pleasure is never a good idea. What if things didn’t work out? I’d have to leave, and I like it here.”

She had a point.

“What if things do?” He shot back.

“Then what, we drive the family Suburban off into the sunset? Life isn’t a romantic comedy—at least mine isn’t.” She sounded so sad, like she’d given it some thought and come to the same not-gonna-happen conclusion every time.

“I don’t know about the future, but for now, I’d like to get to know you as an adult female and not as my CFO.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Why not?”

She looked up at him with huge eyes. “There are hundreds of reasons.” She bit her top lip and her jaw worked, and then her face went blank. “I can’t think of a single one.”

“See.” He kissed her cheek and whispered close to her ear. “You want me bad.”

Her hair tickled his nose and he sneezed.

Grace jumped back and covered her ear. “Wow! That was loud.”

“Oops.” He wiped her cheek. “You got a little blow back from that sneeze.”

“A lover with nasal allergies. How sexy.” She grimaced. “Snotty kisses. Can’t wait.”

“I’m irresistible, what can I say?” He grinned. “It’s a gift.”

“You should return it.” Grace busied herself with unwrapping the pan. “No date, but we do get to have dinner together most nights.” She pointed to the pan. “My famous chicken Parmesan.”

She looked him up and down. “Too bad you don’t get any because it’s only for Super Heroes.”

He held up his left hand like a traffic cop. “Hold that thought. Give me fifteen minutes.”

Running from the kitchen, he made it up to his room in record time. He threw open the door and the pink taunted him. Tomorrow, he met with a decorator to finally get rid of all the pink. Grace had flipped his world on its axis. It was a comfort to know he’d done the same for her.

Grace had to give Chord credit. She hadn’t pegged him for Super Hero material, but here he was sitting at the head of the dinner table dressed as Fan Boy—complete with giant foam finger which he’d removed to eat.

She pushed her empty plate away from her and leaned back in the kitchen chair. They were parenting three kids. If someone had told her a few weeks ago, she’d be co-parenting anything, she’d have laughed in his or her face.

“Okay, my fellow Super Heroes, in order to keep in shape so we may squash the forces of evil, I’ve devised a few Super Hero challenges.” She took turns looking at each of them. HW was Righteous Dude—his super power was talking people to death, Cart was Mr. Fixit—his tool belt held all sorts of torture devices, CoCo was the Teenaged Bitchinator or TB, Grace had helped her nail down her character. TB’s superpower was rolling her eyes and death glares. Clementine was Fraidy Cat, they’d decided he could terrify even the worst criminal with his size. And Fan Boy—his super powers were well…he was a man of mystery.

“First will be the desk chair shuffle.” She turned to Chord. “Not sure why you have four desk chairs in your office, but we’re racing them to the end of the driveway and back.”

“I told you. My office is off limits.” Chord took a deep, exasperated, breath. “You need boundaries.”