Grace grabbed a handful of her mom’s diced onions and added it to her mix. “He’s an ass. I can’t imagine anyone marrying him. He probably has a schedule of when to have sex and who has to be on top.”
Nora started laughing until she snorted.
“You know it’s true,” Grace said, laughing with her mom.
“Maybe you should start looking in the private sector for a job,” her dad suggested.
“I’ve been thinking about it. It’s hard to make the leap. I make a decent living.”
“Not worth it if you’re miserable.” By now her dad had turned around to look at her from the sofa. The TV was flashing commercials.
“I’m not miserable,” she said.
“You’re not exactly happy either,” Nora said.
“Maybe if you found the right man.”
Grace’s eyes shot to her dad’s. “Let’s get that conversation out of the way before Aunt Beth shows up. I don’t want to hear about my uterus drying up all day.”
Her mom moved to the sink to wash her hands. “We’re just worried about you. You haven’t dated since that unfortunate encounter with Erin’s ex.”
“Nothing wrong with going to see a shrink,” her dad said. Emmitt was an avid believer in psychologists, psychiatrists, or anyone who could help you work through trauma.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t need that.”
“So you’re dating again?” Nora asked.
An image of Dameon had her smiling. “I did meet someone.”
That’s all she needed to say. Her dad put the TV on pause, and the room filled with silence.
Her parents stared.
“Oh my God, you guys act like I’ve been in a convent for a year.”
“Do you know how many names your father and I have heard from you since high school?”
Grace had been a serial dater up until the past summer. “Maybe I’m tired of the chase.”
“Wait, is it that suit-wearing land developer guy?” Her dad frowned like he’d just eaten something rotten.
Grace knew this conversation wasn’t going to go well. “His name is Dameon Locke, not suit-wearing land developer guy. And I really shouldn’t be interested in him. With Richard up my butt, it’s really not smart on my end.”
Her father scowled, disapproval written all over his face.
“Not everyone in a suit is a bad guy, Dad.”
“When are you bringing him over?” Nora asked.
Grace stopped what she was doing. “I’ve known him less than a month and I don’t know when you’ll meet him. Now stop, okay? You know I’m not stewing in self-pity after Desmond, so let it go.”
Her mom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We just worry, Gracie.”
“I know. But I’m okay.”
Tristan had their mom in stitches.
His brother was dressed for the beach: shorts, flip-flops, and long, sun-kissed hair. The only thing he was missing was a tie-dyed T-shirt to go with his bloodshot eyes.
“The dog surfs better than Seth.” Tristan was going on about one of his friends and his surfing border collie.
Dameon listened while he peeled potatoes. With his mom distracted, he jumped in to help, otherwise they wouldn’t be eating until late.
“Did you see this?” Lois brought Tristan’s cell phone to show Dameon a picture. Sure enough, the drenched dog wearing a life preserver sat perched on a surfboard.
“That’s impressive.” For a teenager.
With the potatoes peeled, Dameon went in search of a pot.
“What’s the dog’s name?”
“Barnacle, but we call him Barney.”
That had his mom laughing again. “So clever. Don’t you think that’s clever, Dameon?”
“Very funny.” The cupboard he remembered his mom’s pots to be in was filled with cookie sheets and pie tins. “Where are the pots for this?” he asked.
“Oh, let me do that.” Lois moved to his side and grabbed a knife. “Why don’t you pour some wine and sit and chat with your brother.”
I’d rather cook and burn dinner.
“Yeah, bro. Tell me what’s new in your life.” Tristan leaned back in the chair he’d scooted next to the kitchen island.
Dameon wiped his hands dry on a towel and searched a drawer for a corkscrew. “Work is great. I have a big project breaking ground next year.”
“No, man . . . what’s new? You’re always working. Do you have a Mrs. in the works?”
Dameon opened his mouth only to have his mom cut him off.
“Dameon has a girlfriend.”
“Oh yeah? What’s her name?” Tristan asked.
This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his brother, who kept calling him bro and man.
“Her name is Grace,” his mom said.
“That’s cool. Is it serious?”
“It’s new” was all Dameon wanted to say.
Tristan kept nodding.
“What about you, honey? Anyone special in your life?” Lois asked.
“I’m not ready for that. Let the older son settle down first, right, bro?”
Dameon wiggled the cork free with a pop. “Who wants wine?”
The bird was out of the oven, and the side dishes were in various stages of cooking or ready while sitting in the warmer.
Grace had moved on from the eggnog to wine.
The house was packed.
Her brothers and uncle were shouting at the game on the TV.
Erin buzzed around the kitchen as if she’d been there her whole life. The woman knew her way around a family dinner. And it looked like she’d baked enough goodies to feed the block.
“What are these?” Aunt Beth bit into something that looked like a macaroon.
“Divinity,” Erin told her.
Aunt Beth purred. “It’s divine. I’ll give you that.”
A roar came from the den. “Interference!”
“Do they think the players can hear them?” Erin asked.
Grace laughed. “Yes.”
Aunt Beth washed the candy down with wine. “So, Parker . . . when are you and Colin going to give my sister a grandchild?”
Grace moved behind her aunt and pointed at Parker with a smile. Hot seat, she mouthed.
“Give the kids time, Bethany,” Nora chided.
“Well, if Colin was anything like you, she’d already be pregnant.” Aunt Bethany knew how to throw punches. It was well known that Colin “came early.”
Grandma Rose, who sat picking at the sweets, looked up. “That was a shotgun wedding,” she added.
Nora acted innocent. “Colin was premature,” she told Parker.
“Not that anyone really cares,” Grace said, smiling at her mom.
The buzzer on the timer went off, and she moved to the oven to switch the stuffing with the yams. Behind her, Aunt Beth moved on to Erin. “What’s taking Matt so long with you?”
Grace happily buzzed around the kitchen now that there were two other women in the house Aunt Beth could focus her meddling attention on.
Dameon stood in his mother’s backyard with his phone pressed to his ear. By the fourth ring, he was starting to lose hope that Grace was going to pick up.
When her voice filled the line, he sighed as if someone had tossed him a life preserver after falling off the Titanic.
“The voice of sanity,” he said after her hello.
“A little tipsy, but sane.”
“I’ll take tipsy. Hi.”
She laughed. “Hi, Dameon. You sound stressed.”
He turned to look at the back door, making sure it was still shut. “My brother showed up.”
“That sounds like a bad thing.”
“He rubs me wrong. And I’m pretty sure he laced something with pot and got my mom high.”
When Grace started to laugh, he found his mood lifting. “It’s not funny.”
She laughed harder. “Sorry.”
“The turkey was half cooked and we’ve burned through all the wine in t
he house.”
Grace was laughing so hard she snorted.
That had him smiling.
“Your turkey is raw and your mom is baked,” she managed to say through laughter.
“I’m glad you’re entertained.” Dameon ran his free hand through his hair. “Tell me your day is going better.”
“My Christmas is awesome. The food was perfect and Aunt Bethany is harping on Parker and Erin instead of me. I’m golden.”
“I’m happy for you. And hey, the news of the week here is my brother is employed.”
“That’s good, right?”
“At a pot shop.”
Grace started laughing again.
Dameon started to chuckle. “Seriously! He’s thirty.”
“If you love what you do for a living, you’ll never work a day in your life,” Grace said as if quoting someone.
“You’re thoroughly amused, aren’t you?”
“One hundred percent. Do you think you can get a family discount? I’ll lace some of Erin’s brownies for my aunt.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“God, that’s funny.” She finally stopped laughing.
He placed a hand on his stomach. “I’m hungry.”
For whatever reason, Grace lost it again, and the line was filled with laughter.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The office was virtually empty when Grace walked in the day after Christmas. Half the staff was out of town for the holiday, and the other half rolled in close to noon.
She found herself looking at the overrun in-basket on her desk and decided to take a peek around the office. Lionel’s office was wide open and his desk too clean for words. Grace prided herself on her organizational skills, but Lionel’s desk made her look like a slob.
Adrian was in, so she knocked on his door and asked how his holiday was. She eyed his inbox and asked what he was working on. By the time she went to Evan’s office, she was convinced that she’d been given an uneven amount of the pie. Evan was about to walk out when she pushed him back in and closed the door behind her. “I’m on a mission,” she said with a beeline to his desk. “Is this your current case load?” she asked, fingering the folders in his inbox.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because mine is twice as thick. Richard keeps piling it on, and I keep saying fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Grace started rambling off the projects she was a part of or lead on.
Evan stopped her halfway through. “Did you ever think the reason Richard gives you all the work is because you don’t complain?”
“I don’t complain because I want to keep my job.”
“C’mon, Grace. He isn’t going to fire you if you tell him you’re too busy for more.”
“Can you promise me that?” she asked.
Evan shrugged, leaned a hip on his desk. “I understand why you think the way you do, but if you’re ever going to break this pattern between the two of you, you’re the one to do it.”
She didn’t like the fact that Evan was right. Grace never had problems with confrontation when it came to her personal life. But with Richard, she didn’t have it in her. “Okay . . . the next time he tries to give me more, I’m going to say something.”
“Good. Tell him to give it to Lionel. He’s always taking time off.”
She opened the office door. “Thanks, Evan.”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the Christmas party and a certain someone . . .”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, sure.”
She stepped out and didn’t elaborate.
An hour later she was walking back into her office to hear her phone ringing. She scrambled to pick it up. “Grace Hudson.”
“You’re working today?”
Dameon. Why did she feel like a high school senior talking to the football hero?
“I’m guessing that means you’re not.”
“No. I give my staff the week off. If there’s anything that needs to get done, they can do it from home.”
She set her coffee down and found her seat. “Lucky them.”
“I tried calling your cell first. I wanted to stop by your place and give you your Christmas present.”
Grace paused. “My what?”
“It’s late, but . . .”
“Dameon, that’s not necessary.”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t get you something.”
Now she felt bad. “I didn’t . . . I mean—”
“I wouldn’t expect you to get me anything. If that’s what you were about to say.”
She sighed. “I guess that means you’re in town.”
“Yup. Just did a Home Depot run and was about to get dirty.”
“Doing what?”
“Scraping off the popcorn ceilings.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yup,” he said. “They’re nasty and stained. I think the owner smoked.”
She hadn’t noticed. “Seems like a lot of effort for a place you’re going to eventually tear down.”
“It’s honest work and I could use the exercise.”
“You don’t appear unfit.”
“Checking me out, are you?”
She grinned. “Maybe.”
“I like that. So, what do you say? I can stop by later?”
“Tell ya what. I’ll come to you. Five thirty?”
“I’ll be here.”
They said their goodbyes, and Grace smiled at the phone.
A noise outside her door had her looking up.
Richard walked by and stared as he did.
Her breath caught. How much had he heard?
She ignored the pounding in her chest and ducked back to the work in front of her.
The last task of her day was finishing up her expense report for the month. She sent the file through the office e-mail system to Richard’s desk. They were always due before the first, and he preferred them early.
Grace shut down her computer and tucked her files away with the next morning’s workload on top.
Most of the staff that had shown up had left early or were walking out as she closed her office door behind her.
Three steps later she heard her name.
“Hudson.”
She paused, gritted her teeth, and turned toward her boss. “Yes?”
“A word?” He stood in his office doorway and motioned for her to come in.
What now?
“Close the door,” he said as she walked in.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
He sat behind his desk and motioned to the chair.
“Can this wait for tomorrow? I have somewhere to be.” And as she saw it, he had all day to ask for a meeting instead of 5:01 in the afternoon.
“This won’t take long.”
She sat with her purse in her lap.
“I received your expense report for December.” He looked at her like he had a problem.
“Okay.”
“It’s a bit extravagant, don’t you think?”
“Extravagant? What do you mean?”
“Your mileage is up fifteen percent from last month. You logged in overtime that wasn’t approved.”
Was he really bitching about the mileage on her car? “Every mile is accounted for. You added to my caseload twice this month, and field meetings were necessary. And if you’re talking about the late request for me to meet Mr. Sokolov—”
“You’re on salary. Overtime needs approval.”
“You sent me at the end of the day.”
“Then you should have come in late the next day, not request overtime compensation.”
She bit her lip to keep the profanity she wanted to spew inside her head. Grace glanced at the clock in the room. “So you’d like me to come in ten minutes late tomorrow to make up for today?”
He handed her the expense report. “I expect a revised version of this tomorrow.”
It took all her willpower to gently
take the report from him and stand without storming off.
In her car, Grace gripped the steering wheel and called Richard every name in the book. It took five minutes for her to calm down enough to pull out of the parking lot.
Halfway home, she remembered that she had an impromptu date with Dameon. She cussed Richard again and pulled a U-turn.
She stopped at the home improvement store on her way and picked up a welcome mat as a last-minute gift before texting Dameon to tell him she’d be a little late.
By the time she pulled into the dark driveway and parked behind his truck, it was almost six.
The porch light brightened her path, and Dameon stood in the open doorway wearing jeans, a sweater, and a smile.
Just looking at him pushed away the anger that simmered in her blood. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said as she walked up. Their eyes met and his smile fell. “Someone is stressed.”
She didn’t bother denying it. “My boss is a dick.”
“I have vodka.”
She wanted to weep. “God, I love you. Yes and please.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized what they were.
Dameon, on the other hand, took them in. “I could get used to that.”
Grace brushed it off. “Don’t let it go to your head, Locke . . . that’s the vodka I’m talking to.”
He laughed, and Grace sighed in relief that he bought her excuse as they walked in the house.
The first thing she noticed was the warmth.
The fireplace crackled and popped and a three-foot Christmas tree sat in one corner of the room. Tiny lights illuminated the branches, and glass bulbs dangled from its limbs.
“When did you have time to do this?”
“Last week.” Dameon closed the door behind her. “I thought about what you said about fireplaces and Christmas trees and felt inspired.”
The grandma couch had been moved to the center of the room, and from the looks of it, cleaned. A tablecloth covered something that worked as a coffee table in front of it. The out-of-date track lighting brightened the corners of the room that the fire and tree didn’t reach.
“I’m not sure how you managed to make a room cozy with one couch, but you did.” She placed the bag in her hand down by the tree and turned to find Dameon looking at her.
“I’m glad you like it.”
She dropped her purse on the sofa and shrugged to remove her coat.
Everything Changes Page 15
