Everything Changes

by Bybee, Catherine

  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said in a tone only Parker could hear.

  “Ignore him. His wife probably hasn’t had sex with him since the nineties,” Parker joked.

  “In the nineties he had a different wife altogether.”

  As the evening wore on, the people in the room loosened up and the voices grew louder. Grace scouted the group to see if anyone was going to be the talk of the party after the holidays. Pete was out of the running since he’d already left.

  “We haven’t had a girls’ night since before the wedding,” Parker said.

  “You’ve been a little busy.”

  “We need to plan one. Before the wedding it was all about the wedding. Before that it was all about getting Erin back to the living. I feel out of the loop. And outside of the Dameon gossip, I have no idea what’s going on in your world.”

  Grace shrugged. “I work, I go home . . . wash, rinse, and repeat.”

  “That’s not healthy.”

  “It beats meeting strangers in bars and learning later that they tried to kill one of your best friends.” Grace didn’t realize the weight of her words until after they’d left her mouth.

  Silence stretched between them.

  “I’m guessing that’s not healthy either,” Parker said. A frown replaced her smile from the moment before.

  “I stopped trusting my instincts.” Grace glanced around to avoid being overheard. “Which is why I’m glad you know who is here for you to meet. Erin put doubt in my head, and I haven’t completely shaken it off.”

  “I expect that from Erin. Not you. But that’s not really fair, is it?”

  Grace shook her head. “It’s completely fair. No one tried to kill me.”

  “We don’t know that. And I’m guessing you’ve come up with that conclusion yourself.”

  More than once.

  “You’d tell me . . . if something was off with you know who, right?” Grace asked.

  Parker placed a hand on her shoulder. “If something felt off, I’d be the first to tell you.”

  Grace found herself staring at the back of Dameon’s head from across the room. “I really hope he’s not playing me.”

  Within an hour Grace caught Parker yawning and checking her cell phone. Truth was, she was pretty tired, too.

  “We should find Colin and get you home,” Grace told Parker.

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yes.”

  Colin and Dameon were talking with a group of men, half of them laughing at whatever had just been said. When they approached, the conversation came to an abrupt halt.

  “Don’t stop on our account,” Grace said.

  Colin shook his head. “Fishing stories, sis. The kind where the fish get bigger with every drink one consumes.”

  Grace poked her brother’s arm. “Except you don’t go fishing.”

  “It wasn’t my story.”

  “Damn, Hudson. You clean up really nice,” Lionel said at her side.

  Grace turned to her coworker. “I’m guessing that’s a compliment?” she asked.

  “Don’t go getting mushy on me. You’re not my type,” he teased.

  She grinned. “You’re right. There’s more to my weekends than a sports bar and the beer on tap.”

  Lionel put a hand over his heart. “I’d be wounded if it wasn’t so true.”

  The crowd laughed.

  “Speaking of weekends,” Colin said, turning to Parker. “I think I need to get my wife home since we only have the next couple days to do our shopping.”

  “I’m sure that’s why you want to get her home,” one of the other guys in the group said.

  Grace waved them off. “Leave the honeymooners alone. They’re entitled to putting a white flag outside the bedroom door when they need food and water.”

  Parker was laughing the hardest.

  “I’ll go get our coats,” Colin said before walking away.

  “Didn’t you Uber here?” Parker asked her.

  “I did.”

  “We can give you a ride?”

  “No, you go ahead.” Grace tried not to look at Dameon. “I’m not ready to go home quite yet.”

  When Colin returned, he said his goodbyes to the group, and Grace walked them out.

  “See you on Christmas,” Parker said as they hugged goodbye.

  Colin was next. “It’s cold out here, go back in.”

  “Love you, too,” she teased.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Love you, Gracie.”

  She walked back in and found Dameon hanging outside the banquet room doors.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  “Not unless I can talk you into a nightcap away from all the noise.”

  She smiled. “I might be persuaded.”

  He looked like he wanted to touch her. “Please?”

  “You twisted my arm.” She pointed to the party room. “I’ll get my coat and meet you at your truck. It’s probably best we don’t leave together.”

  “Give me a five-minute head start.”

  She walked into the room while he walked in the direction of the bathrooms.

  There were a few people she wanted to say goodbye to, so she made her rounds.

  She checked her new cell phone for the time. At the four-minute mark she put her coat on and passed by Evan. “Merry Christmas,” she told him with a hug.

  “Back at ya.”

  She walked out of the room and through the hall. She kept her phone in her hand as if she were watching for an Uber ride. Out in the parking lot she saw the red lights on a truck illuminating her way.

  Dameon reached across the seat and opened the door. “Need a ride?” he asked, teasing.

  She hopped in and reached for her seatbelt. “I feel like we’re sneaking.”

  He laughed. “That’s because we are. But after spending the night with your colleagues and hearing some of the stories about your boss, I get it.”

  “If I was one of the guys, he’d probably care less. But then there aren’t that many female developers biting off as big of a project as you are.” In all actuality, she’d worked with very few women in Dameon’s situation.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “Do you like martinis?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  She smiled at him through the dim light of the parking lot. “When you pull out, turn right.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?”

  He put the truck in reverse, placed his hand over the back of the seat, and caressed her shoulder as he did. “I’ve been stuck on the naughty teacher comment all night.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Once again, Grace surprised him. They walked into a dimly lit bar with a woman playing the piano in the corner. By his guess, this was one of the finer places to dine in Santa Clarita. People were dressed up, and the bar was void of television screens. They found a table in the back, and Dameon helped her out of her coat.

  When they sat down, he rested his hand on her arm. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all night.”

  “I shouldn’t want the same thing,” she told him.

  He kept her gaze. “Are you worried someone will see us here?”

  “Everyone I know that would care is still at the party, not to mention most of them can’t afford this place on what the city pays.”

  “But you know about it.”

  “Well, of course I do. I’m single without kids. I’m sure you know the fancy places in the city.”

  “And a few dive bars.”

  “Nothing better than a good dive bar.”

  The waiter came over, they ordered their drinks, and he walked off. “So, this is a place where you don’t know the staff.”

  “You’re teasing me,” she said.

  “It’s refreshing. I haven’t dated a woman like you before.”

  “Oh? What’s your normal type?”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that.

  “I’ll tell you mine if you tel
l me yours,” she said.

  “You really want to know about the exes?”

  She leaned over. “Scared?”

  Okay, fine. “Her name was Lena—”

  “Lena?” Grace sounded surprised.

  “She was Greek.” He stopped there.

  “Okay . . . ?”

  “Now, you tell me yours.”

  Grace huffed. “His name was Robert and he was a putz.”

  “Define putz.”

  “He played video games on his phone at family dinners.”

  Dameon wasn’t expecting that. “Was this in high school?”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Last year.”

  “It must have been serious if he went to family dinners.” Dameon couldn’t see Grace putting up with a grown man ignoring her family for a cell phone.

  “Not with my family. We’re very open, and dinners with the boyfriends and girlfriends are a must.”

  “Even as adults?”

  “My dad’s an ex-cop,” she said as if that explained it all. “Tell me about Lena.”

  A picture of the woman popped into his head. “Lena never met my mother. She didn’t play video games, but she spent a lot of time on her cell phone taking pictures of herself.”

  Grace grinned. “I know that girl. I’m guessing she was a knockout.”

  Should he lie? “She was easy to look at.”

  “And always needed to be told how beautiful she was.”

  He nodded. “Very insecure.”

  “So what happened?” Grace asked.

  “I don’t think this is going to paint me in the right light.”

  “Paint it anyway.”

  Dameon took a deep breath. “I was bored. We got along well enough in the beginning. As long as we were going to fancy places with fancy people she was happy. If I took her to O’Doul’s, she’d pout and act as if it was beneath her.”

  “What’s O’Doul’s?”

  “A dive bar close to my place. Great whiskey and the best fish and chips in the city.” He shrugged. “I never once had a desire to take her to meet my mom.”

  “Well, you’ve already met Colin. And if I know Matt well enough, he’ll find a reason to show up on your jobsite sooner or later.”

  “Is Matt going to bust my balls as much as Colin?”

  “Of course,” she said with a grin.

  The martinis arrived and Dameon raised his glass. “To new friends.”

  Grace touched her glass to his and sipped. “I think we might be a little more than friends.”

  He set his glass down. “God, I hope so.”

  She sipped her drink again, and he reached out and touched her arm. “Do you have New Year’s Eve plans?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t even given it a thought. Sometimes Matt drags us out to the desert, but he has to work this year.”

  “The desert is a thing?”

  “Oh, yeah. Big bonfires in freezing weather. Lots of dirt and motorcycles and ATVs. Do you ride?”

  “I’m afraid to say I don’t. Do you?”

  She nodded. “We grew up out there getting dirty. But I don’t own my own bike anymore.”

  “You owned your own motorcycle?” The woman never stopped showing him new sides of herself.

  “Yeah. We all did growing up. After my dad took a bad spill, my mom pulled the plug on a lot of the desert trips. Matt and Colin go out more than I do.”

  He shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

  “Don’t say that to my brothers. They’ll put you through the Evel Knievel course.”

  “Especially if they don’t like me.”

  “Yeah, we should probably save that activity for later.”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted her brothers responsible for teaching him to ride. “So back to New Year’s . . . I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  She stared at him, her lips in a flat line. “You’re asking or telling?”

  Much as he hated the words, he said them anyway. “I’m asking.”

  Those lips of hers lifted into a smile. “You know something, Locke . . . you’re catching on really well.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She looked at the ceiling as if the answer was there. “Am I dressing fancy or dive bar?”

  “Ladies’ choice is next year. This year we’re going five star.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in question. “Someone is optimistic.”

  They took their time with their drinks before Dameon paid the bill and drove her the short distance to her home. As he pulled into a parking space, he noticed her starting to fidget.

  Before she reached for the door, Dameon took hold of her hand.

  Their eyes met and he leaned forward.

  As soon as their lips met, she sighed. He couldn’t touch her the way he truly wanted to with a console separating them, but he could tilt her head back and taste her lips with the tip of his tongue.

  Her response was her hand tightening on his arm and her kiss matching his.

  She was bold in so many ways, but in this, a simple kiss in the front seat of a truck, she seemed to hold herself back ever so slightly. He ended the kiss before his body revealed just what she was doing to him.

  When Grace opened her eyes, he could see the dazed look of them in the lights of the parking lot.

  “I needed to do that here,” he told her. “Because if I do that at your front door I’d be tempted to stay.”

  Her eyes opened wider.

  “And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

  “Dameon . . .” She said his name with a sigh.

  “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to wait a little longer.”

  She was smiling now. “I’d like that, too.”

  And because that was settled, he reached for her again. This time, she kissed him a little harder, a little longer, and she said his name in a throaty whisper that he could get used to hearing over and over again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Christmas morning, Grace took advantage of the crisp, dry weather and took a walk in an effort to work off the calories the day was going to bestow upon her. She listened to her soundtrack of fast-paced tunes that kept her moving quicker than she normally would.

  By the time she walked back in her front door, her phone buzzed with a text from Dameon. She smiled instantly.

  Merry Christmas and good morning.

  She pulled a water bottle from her fridge and sat at her kitchen counter while texting him back. Good morning and Merry Christmas to you, too.

  When will you go to your parents?

  I help my mom cook, so I’ll leave here in about an hour. The masses start showing up after eleven. What about you?

  I’m leaving at noon and bringing the wine. My contribution to cooking is carving the turkey.

  She smiled. A noble task.

  I think that was sarcastic.

  Would I do that? Grace asked.

  The dots on her screen took some time flashing before his reply arrived.

  Yes.

  A keen observation on your part. I guess that’s why you’re the CEO.

  Dameon replied with a laughing emoji.

  I’m getting in the shower. Have a wonderful time with your family. Grace held on to her phone and waited for his reply.

  You, too.

  You would think the short distance from downtown LA to Glendale would take less than thirty minutes.

  But the key word is LA. And Los Angeles was known worldwide for its traffic problems. Add a holiday with no typical pattern from which to gauge a timeline and it was a crapshoot as to when you’d arrive.

  Dameon arrived thirty minutes later than he’d told his mom he’d be there. Expecting a little bit of flak, he was surprised to walk through the door and hear her laughing.

  “Hello?” he called out.

  “In the kitchen,” his mom replied.

  That’s when he heard a male voice.

  Not just any voice.

  Tristan.

  Dameon wasn’t prepared to s
pend the holiday with his brother, or any day for that matter. In the last conversation he’d had with his mother, she’d told him Tristan couldn’t make it. Dameon took a fortifying breath and walked around the corner with a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Dameon!” his mom exclaimed as if she were surprised to see him.

  He placed his armful of bags on the end of the kitchen counter and accepted his mother’s hug. “Sorry I’m late.”

  His mom hugged him tight. “Are you late?”

  “Traffic.”

  She brushed off his comment with a second hug. When she moved away, she turned toward his brother. “Look who’s here!”

  Dameon moved forward and reached out his hand.

  Tristan grasped it in the handshake their father had taught them both. “Good to see you,” Tristan said.

  “You, too.” The words were polite, and honestly not felt. “I thought you couldn’t make it.”

  Tristan let go and shrugged. “Plans changed.”

  Their mom placed a hand on both their arms. “The perfect Christmas present for me is to see both my boys in the same room getting along.”

  Dameon gave it an hour before someone was pissed off.

  Grace started with eggnog. The homemade kind that took a full day to set in the refrigerator after it was mixed. The turkey was in the oven, and she and her mom moved around the kitchen in complete sync with each other as they prepared all the side dishes that they only cooked once or twice a year.

  “Colin tells me you’re having trouble at work,” Nora said while shedding tears from cutting onions.

  Grace had her hands full of bread crumbs and sage sausage she was mixing together to create stuffing. “I wouldn’t call it trouble, I’d call it the norm.”

  “Richard’s always been an ass,” her father called from the couch where he sat watching a football game. “Thought he was better than anyone else because he went back east for college.”

  Her father and Richard had gone to high school together.

  “You’re comfortably retired and he still punches a time clock. Seems you made the better choice,” Grace told her dad.

  “That’s because I married right. What number is Richard on? Three or four?”

  “Four. But I didn’t see the latest wife at the Christmas party so maybe the honeymoon is over.”

  Nora shook her head. “That’s really unfortunate.”