CHAPTER EIGHT
Grace arrived at the Locke jobsite thirty minutes before her scheduled time with Dameon. She knew on paper what the scope of the project was, but had yet to get on the property to take a closer look. She’d changed into jeans and a sweater and wore a long coat to ward off the cold winds that were blowing in the first real rain of the season. Precipitation hadn’t yet fallen from the sky, but it was coming.
She hoped it would hold off a couple more hours.
The ranch property where she had agreed to meet Dameon looked as if it had been abandoned for at least a year. “No Trespassing” signs were posted, but that didn’t mean people adhered to them. She’d been at her job long enough to know not to go poking around the house until someone else was there. The homeless were known to squat in abandoned properties, especially ones like this, that were away from prying eyes and anyone who might call the police.
She took one look at the lock holding the gate closed and decided to walk across the dirt road and through the brush to where it met the wash that flowed out of the canyon.
This had once been a thriving ranch community. But through the years and the ups and downs of the real estate market, some owners mortgaged themselves into bad situations that forced them to sell. Slowly, many of the properties had fallen into disrepair. The livestock became a novelty and not a norm. Some owners used part of their properties to store RVs and boats. Even if the zoning didn’t allow for that kind of thing, the owners got away with it because no one complained.
Why would they? Everyone was just trying to hold on to what was theirs.
Grace tried to imagine a subdivision and what it would do for the area. She couldn’t help but feel that some of the homeowners would balk at the idea. They came out there for solitude and privacy. On the other hand, it would increase the value of their homes if the area was developed.
Ultimately, it wasn’t for her to approve or disapprove of any project. Just to point out the engineering of them. And from an engineering standpoint if something wasn’t feasible, the landowner needed to change his or her plans.
She heard tires eating up the gravel road and saw a truck pull alongside her car.
She peered closer. When Dameon opened the door of the truck and hopped out, she couldn’t have been more surprised. She took him for a luxury sedan kind of man.
Dameon noticed her and lifted a hand in greeting.
In addition to driving the truck, he was wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater. He reached into the cab, pulled out a coat, and was shrugging into it as she approached.
She had to tilt her head back to look at the man. And looking wasn’t a hardship. Dark brown hair, strong jaw . . .
Stop it, Gracie.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted him with as much professionalism as she could muster.
He grinned as he shut the door and reached out to shake her hand.
For a moment, she hesitated. Actually fearing his touch for what it would do to her senses. But then denying a handshake was like a slap in the face.
Sure enough, the moment their palms touched, her body became very aware of the man.
To make matters worse, Dameon closed her hand between both of his. “You’re freezing.”
“It’s not exactly warm out here.”
He did the squeeze thing with her hand before letting it go. “At least you’re wearing a coat this time.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I have gloves in my car.”
Once she dumped her purse in the trunk and put her keys in her pocket, she gloved up and grabbed her clipboard and pen.
“Tell me, Dameon, what do you hope to accomplish today?”
He opened his mouth, closed it . . . put a hand in the air and didn’t utter a word.
In that moment, she knew he was not thinking about the jobsite.
“With the property,” she clarified.
“Right.” He dropped his hand. “The land. For a minute there I thought you’d changed your mind about dinner.”
She turned away from him to hide her smile. “That is not why we’re out here.”
When he was silent, she glanced over her shoulder.
“Right.” He walked in front of her in the direction she’d just come from. “We really need to know the scope of infrastructure to carry out our plan. What pitfalls and problems you foresee that we haven’t taken into account.”
For the next thirty minutes they walked the land, and Grace found herself doing all the talking. She pointed out the road improvements. Considering much of the canyon off the main road was gravel and dirt, it was a given that a big part of the build would be concrete. None of the homes were on sewer. The city hadn’t built the area with that in mind. The small strip mall that was half occupied was as close as the sewer system ran. “But your desire is to add a commercial space at the far end. That’s going to require tying into the city system.”
Dameon nodded several times. “Some of the properties have wells.”
“And almost all of them are used for irrigation, if at all. While the water table is high through this area, that doesn’t mean the wells capture much of anything. I wouldn’t count on them. Not unless we have ten years of heavy rain.”
They both looked up at the sky that had turned dark gray and threatened exactly what she had said. “And speaking of rain, this is a bigger ordeal.” She pointed to the wash.
“The watershed from the canyon,” he said for her.
“Right. We’ll need soil reports, but I can tell you now, this is a big reason why this canyon hasn’t been developed to the extent you’re trying to do.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was scanning the landscape as if he knew exactly what she was going to say. “You need to give the water a place to go. The people who live in the homes on the other side of this often go for weeks at a time without crossing it. The residents out here have tractors and big trucks for a reason.”
“We’re going to need bridges and culverts to deal with the drainage,” he said.
“I hope whoever you paid to scout this area knew what they were doing.”
“They did.” He looked at her and smiled.
She moved her gaze to her feet and avoided his eyes.
“What about the zoning changes?” he asked.
“I’m sure you’re aware that this is residential with an agricultural overlay, giving the residents the right to have farm animals or grow their own grapes.”
“I don’t see a lot of farming here.”
“No, but many have a handful of chickens, the occasional horse or goat. But they can have cows or alpacas or any of the like if they choose. If you attempt to take that away from the neighbors that are here, you’re going to get kickback. And chances are you’ll lose. Not to mention it’s going to take time to work the system.”
“We really want to break ground by spring.” His voice had dropped and his eyes didn’t stop taking in the landscape.
“Removing the agricultural overlay in the housing development you’re putting up is doable. Or you can leave it and put it in the HOA that barnyard animals are against the rules. Which brings us to the next concern. The amount of homes you’re proposing.” She stopped walking and looked at the space around them. “In the past ten, fifteen years, houses have sprung up like weeds. Each subdivision crammed in closer to the next. As people inch out in areas like this, they’re looking for more space.”
“More space means less profit.”
“I know.” She lifted a hand in the air. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this community, it’s that change comes slow. Maybe not as slow as mid-Texas, but slower than, say, the valley. Dividing these lots up will have to go before the city council.”
“Our team didn’t think that was going to stop anything.”
“It won’t stop. But if you don’t want to get tied up, and that’s why you wanted this meeting today, you come in with a compromise plan if in fact there is pushback on lot size. Ask for the world, but be prepared to sc
ale it back. Unless you want to be attending city council meetings for the next two years.”
Dameon stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and lifted his face to the sky. “We don’t want that either.” The first droplets of rain started to fall. “I have a set of plans in the truck I’d like you to take a look at,” he said.
“Okay.”
They picked up their pace as they walked to the cars.
It didn’t take long for Grace’s hair to turn to wet curls.
He grabbed the plans out of the truck and fiddled with a set of keys as he attempted to find the right one for the bolted chain-link fence.
“Let me hold that,” she said, taking the tube with the plans from under his arm.
By the fourth key, the rain was taking a steady beat.
Grace pulled up her collar to try and keep dry.
Finally, Dameon sprung the lock free, and the two of them half jogged to the front porch of the house.
She shook off the water and waited while Dameon repeated the process to find the correct key for the front door.
Once inside, they both did their best impression of a shaking dog.
Grace wasn’t sure who laughed first, him or her.
Dameon stopped laughing and stared at her. The kind of look that was going to be followed by something that shouldn’t be said, or happen.
She turned around and took in the space. Seventies construction with low popcorn ceilings and orangeish carpet that should have been put out of its misery twenty years ago. Someone had left a couch in the middle of the room that reminded her of Grandma Rose’s motif. Brown flowers and dark green accents. “This is perfectly awful,” Grace said, looking at the sofa.
“My mother would love it,” Dameon said from behind her.
“I thought the same thing about my grandmother.”
The room opened to a kitchen that had a large enough counter to spread out the plans. “This will work.” Grace opened the canister and removed Dameon’s drawings.
He walked to the window and pulled open the blinds to let some light in the room. “I should have kept the power on,” he said.
“And encourage squatters?”
He moved to the sink and turned the faucet. Nothing happened. “This is as good a space as any to house the construction office in the first phase.” As he spoke, he opened cabinets and walked through the room.
“Is this the first time you’ve been here?”
“Yup.” He walked down the narrow hall.
Grace found herself following him. “How does anyone do that?”
“Do what?”
“Buy a house without seeing it?” She knew it happened. But she’d never felt at liberty to ask someone like Dameon how they did it.
“We bought the land. The house is incidental.” He looked above his head and then opened a closet door in the empty room. “And most of the time, they’re not in this good of shape.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. This was a repo. The owners defaulted on the loan. It went to the bank. Banks hate owning real estate. Most never recouped after the housing market crashed.”
“So you came in and bought it sight unseen.”
“The land value out here is cheap. Once we’re done with it, it will be worth money again. I know the existing neighbors are going to voice opposition, but chances are my PR department will tell them the facts about how we’re going to add value to their homes.” He skirted past her in the narrow hall and opened another door. “Ohhh,” he said, looking inside.
“What?” Grace ducked her head through the doorway. A king-size bed sat in the middle of the room. There wasn’t any bedding covering the stain-filled mattress. She turned her nose.
“Do you ever look at a bed in an old house and wonder what stories it can tell you?”
She realized she was standing entirely too close to the man when she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. “No,” she said. “I look at fireplaces and front windows and wonder how many Christmas trees had been put up and family stories were exaggerated once the adults reached the bottom of the wine bottle.” She stepped back.
“I like that much better than my thoughts.”
Grace walked back into the kitchen and shrugged off her coat. She wasn’t warm, but the weight of it dripping from the rain was making her colder.
Dameon’s coat followed hers, and they stood next to each other looking at the plans.
Grace attempted to ignore the fact his shoulder kept brushing hers. Did everything she could to not pull in the scent of rain and masculinity that surrounded him.
She forced her eyes to look at the plans and not the man at her side. Swallowing hard, she realized neither of them had spoken in several seconds.
Dameon’s hand scooted closer to hers on the plans, and that’s when her brain engaged.
“I’ve seen these before,” she told him without looking up.
She pointed out her concerns and put just enough space between them that she didn’t feel the heat of his body.
Time slipped by as she sketched in what she knew he was going to need, at least at this stage. She spent more time poring over the plans than she normally did. It helped that Dameon seemed to be on top of the city’s expectations. It quickly became obvious that he didn’t sit behind a desk all day long.
Grace wrote side notes on his plans with check boxes that needed to happen first.
“I think you have enough to keep you busy until after the holidays,” she told him as she stepped back.
Outside, the skies had turned nearly black. And with the sun dipping low as late afternoon approached, the house was getting dark.
Dameon rolled up the plans, and she handed him the tube to put them in.
“I really appreciate your help.”
She reached for her coat. “It is my job.”
He took the coat from her hand and opened it for her to step into. The gesture was seamless for him by the looks of it. For Grace, it wasn’t something she was accustomed to.
She fumbled her way into the coat and felt his hands linger on her shoulders.
For one brief second she enjoyed his touch.
There must have been something she did to encourage him, because he lowered his fingers just enough to graze her arms. With her back to him, she heard him sigh.
“What can I do to convince you to go to dinner with me?”
She closed her eyes and remembered who she was standing with.
With a twist of her body, his hands had no choice but to fall away. “Dameon—”
“Just dinner. It would be a favor to me. Otherwise I’m going to get on the freeway with everyone else at this hour.”
“You really want me to believe the words just dinner?” His eyes were saying there wasn’t anything “just” about it.
“Maybe more than just dinner. But we have to start somewhere.” He took a step closer.
“We have no business starting anywhere.” Yet her feet weren’t moving away.
He slowly lifted a hand to her face and pressed his palm to her cheek.
She found the room lacking oxygen as she pulled in a sharp breath.
“Your lips say one thing,” he said as his thumb traced her lower lip. “But your eyes . . . these eyes are singing a completely different tune.” He moved his thumb to her temple.
“I think I read that line in a book somewhere,” she whispered. Move, Gracie . . . get out of his space.
“Are you suggesting that I’m wrong?” He moved closer. “That if I pressed my fingers to the back of your neck”—he did what he was threatening to do—“that you wouldn’t look up at me and open your lips just enough to ask for a kiss?”
She pushed her lips closed, her eyes locked with his.
A small laugh escaped him and he leaned down.
Back away!
Grace opened her mouth. A denial sat on her tongue but wouldn’t come out.
Suddenly, the front door of the house crashed open.
CH
APTER NINE
Grace jumped and Dameon twisted around to stand in front of her, shielding her from whatever or whoever had opened the door.
“Gracie?”
With her heartbeat well past her chest and up into her head, she looked around Dameon to the fury of Colin. “What the hell?” She dropped her hands that had grabbed ahold of Dameon’s waist and stepped in front of him.
Dameon’s arm came out and stopped her.
She pushed his hand aside. “He’s my brother,” she all but yelled at him.
“Are you okay?” Colin asked.
“Don’t I look okay?”
Colin’s gaze moved between her and Dameon and back again. “Who’s this?”
“What do you mean, ‘who’s this’? What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
She patted her back pocket and remembered she’d tossed it in her purse that was sitting in the trunk of her car. “It’s in my car.”
“We were supposed to meet at the Sierra Highway site.” By now the heat in Colin’s voice had started to ebb.
Grace lost some of her fire as well. “Oh, damn, that’s right. I got sidetracked.”
“When you didn’t answer, I used Friend Finder and saw your phone was up here.” Colin had stopped looking at Grace altogether and was staring at Dameon. “In the middle of nowhere, where anything could happen.”
“I’m capable of taking care of myself, Colin.”
“Considering everything that’s happened in the last year, you’ll have to forgive my intrusion.”
Any heat that was still lingering in her body left. She knew exactly what he was referring to.
Dameon took a step forward and reached out a hand. “I’m Dameon Locke.”
For a half a second, it looked like Colin wasn’t going to take it.
The men grasped hands and shook. Only Colin didn’t let go. “So you’re Dameon. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Oh, no . . . this was not going to happen.
“Oh? Is that right?” Dameon gave her a sideways glance.
The handshaking continued with white knuckles from both of them.
Grace placed her hands over theirs and pushed hard. “Enough.”
Their hands broke free, but she couldn’t tell who let go first.
Everything Changes Page 7