Everything Changes

by Bybee, Catherine

  Dameon watched as they shook hands and made sure he was next.

  Her palm was cool, her face heated. “We seem to be bumping into each other a lot.” He squeezed her hand one extra time before letting go.

  Her eyes flared ever so slightly.

  “It does appear that way, Mr. Locke. I never think of Santa Clarita as a small town, but sometimes it surprises me.”

  He waited until she took her seat before taking his. “Tyler and I were just talking about the size of your city.”

  She placed her hands over his folder. “Your company is based in LA. Is that where you live?”

  “Yes.” The question was personal.

  “What made you choose Santa Clarita for this project?”

  “Land availability, growth, and the ability to add something to a community without complete destruction of what is already there.”

  She didn’t smile, didn’t frown. Her lips were a straight line.

  But when he smiled, there was this tiny spark in her eyes that gave away her thoughts. Grace Hudson wasn’t completely unaffected by his presence. He’d sensed it through the window at the hotel, felt it in the coffee shop, and could practically taste it here.

  “Well, now that we have that out of the way,” Richard started. “Let’s go over a few things so your time here isn’t wasted, Mr. Locke. Then I assume Mr. Jennings will be working directly with Hudson from here on out?”

  Tyler started to talk, but Dameon jumped in.

  “No, actually. I’ll be heavily involved in the beginning stages with your department.”

  Tyler nudged his foot under the table.

  “You will?” Grace asked.

  “Yes. I want to make sure everything goes smoothly. While I’m confident Tyler can take care of things in my absence, this is a significant project that will take several meetings to make sure that once we break ground nothing will clog us up.”

  Richard opened his file. “Let’s get started, then.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Grace closed and locked her office door, dropped Dameon’s file on her desk, and went straight to the thermostat to turn the air conditioner to the lowest setting it would accept.

  He’d squeezed her hand . . . twice.

  From that point forward it was shocking she could put two coherent sentences together.

  And since when did the owner of a multimillion-dollar investment company get involved with city engineers?

  Never. That’s when.

  From the look on Tyler’s face, the project manager had been just as surprised.

  Things were going to get sticky.

  Grace rolled her shoulders and sat in her desk chair. She grabbed her phone and dialed Erin’s number.

  “Hello, you,” Erin answered on the second ring.

  “I need happy hour. Tonight.”

  “What? It’s Monday and we just—”

  “Tonight. And no boys. Leave my brother at home.”

  “He’s working today.”

  Matt was a firefighter and worked twenty-four-hour shifts.

  “Even better.” Grace gave her the name of a local bar. “Five thirty?”

  “Someone sounds frazzled,” Erin said with a laugh.

  “You have no idea.”

  “Mind sharing what that was all about?” Tyler asked as they walked out to the parking lot.

  Dameon kept a steady pace to his car, the lift in his step directly related to the woman he’d just unsettled.

  He liked having that effect on the opposite sex.

  “What what’s about?”

  “You being heavily involved. That’s how you put it, right? Heavily?”

  “Just making sure everything goes smoothly.”

  Tyler snorted. “Has nothing to do with the Miss Sexy in high heels?”

  He couldn’t deny it.

  “I’ll have my schedule cleared for you and I to meet tomorrow afternoon. I want to know every single line item we need the civil engineering department to sign off on.”

  They stopped at Dameon’s car.

  He unlocked the doors with his key fob.

  “Nice diversion without any denial or affirmation of my claim.”

  Dameon opened the door, shrugged out of his suit jacket, and loosened his tie. “You sure you’re not a closet lawyer, Jennings?”

  “You sure you’re not a closet politician?”

  They both laughed while Dameon slid behind the wheel. “See you back at the office.”

  He started his engine and glanced at the building where Grace Hudson worked. He would never have pegged the woman as an engineer. Let alone one who worked for the city.

  Blessed is the man who has found a way to wiggle into a reluctant woman’s life.

  As he pulled out of the parking lot, Dameon considered himself royally blessed.

  Erin’s purse fell into the seat beside Grace. “It looks like you started without me.” Erin slid into the chair and removed her sunglasses.

  “It’s been one of those days,” Grace told her.

  “Apparently it started before noon.”

  “It started on Saturday.”

  “At the wedding?”

  Grace took a fortifying sip of her martini and a deep cleansing breath before starting in. “There was this guy . . .”

  Erin’s lips split into a grin. “It always begins with a man.”

  “Yeah, well . . . this one was watching me outside the window of the hotel. I’d stepped outside for a few minutes to get away from the constant yammering of Aunt Beth and her ‘You’re going to be too old to have kids if you don’t settle down soon’ bullshit. And this guy just kept staring at me.”

  Erin’s smile fell. “Outside?”

  “No, he was inside the hotel.”

  “Leering?” Erin was sensitive to the opposite sex and unwanted attention. Considering she was recovering from her ex-husband, who once used her as a punching bag, and then took it farther and tried to kill her for leaving him . . . yeah, Erin was quick to conclude any action from a man was a threat.

  “No, no . . . nothing like that.” Grace reached a hand across the table. “No. Dameon was admiring me. You know, like from across the bar, only I was outside and he was inside.”

  “So you met him?” Erin asked, her smile slowly returning.

  Grace waved a hand in the air. “Not yet. I mean, I saw him . . . he’s tall and pretty easy on the eyes. Wearing a suit. Which I looked past.”

  Erin frowned again. “Never trust anyone in a suit.”

  She laughed. Her father had the same line. “Anyway, he smiled at me, I pretended not to notice. He totally knew I noticed.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I sucked in my stomach and walked away. Back to the reception. Figured that was the end of it. Cute guy making googly eyes. Game over. But no. Fast forward to Sunday. I’m looking three shades of hell frozen over and kicking myself for tipping that last taste of champagne in my glass. I left my car at the hotel so I have to go get it—”

  “You saw him at the hotel again?”

  “No. I stop for coffee and there he is. He starts up a conversation. I pretend I don’t recognize him. Pretty sure he saw through that, but he plays along. This time he’s wearing a turtleneck and slacks and looks even better than the night before. Which is bad, right?” She stopped to sip her drink.

  “Why is that bad?”

  Grace shook her head, swallowed. “He’s in a hotel. So he’s either from out of town or cheating on his wife or girlfriend.”

  Erin pulled back. “Sometimes you need to stay in a hotel because your house is being fumigated.”

  “In a suit?”

  “You have a point.”

  The waiter walked up to the table. Erin ordered a glass of white, and he rushed off.

  “Anyway . . . we shake hands, he tells me his name, I tell him mine. I walk away.”

  “What? No phone numbers?”

  Grace lifted her index finger in the air. “From out of town.” She pu
t another finger in the air. “Or cheating. No. He didn’t ask. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

  “I’m guessing the story doesn’t end there.”

  Grace leaned forward, rested her elbows on both sides of her drink. “He was my eleven o’clock meeting. Big freaking investment company CEO from LA. Bought a bunch of property up San Francisquito, wants to develop it.”

  Erin’s lips turned to an O. “He’s totally stalking you.”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t think he knew I worked for the city. He seemed shocked when I walked in. And in reality, I was given the project two hours before the meeting. I had never heard of Locke Enterprises before today. So even if he knew I worked for the city, the file could have ended up on any of our desks.”

  “Good scammers investigate their prey before they engage.”

  Grace stared across the table and let Erin’s words seep in. “I really hope you’re wrong about that.”

  Erin’s wine arrived and she took a taste. “What happened at the meeting?”

  Grace reached across the table. “He did this thing.” She waited for Erin to grasp her hand and squeezed it . . . twice.

  Erin pulled back. “Oh . . .”

  “Right? Totally flirting.”

  “Yeah. The double squeeze is always an invitation.”

  Grace sat back, brought her drink with her. “I didn’t bite. Completely inappropriate to go there.” She fished the olive out of her glass and bit into it.

  “So, if you’re not taking his flirty-double-squeeze handshake and running with it, what’s the problem?”

  “He’s super hot and oozes confidence. And I have to work with him.”

  Erin started to chuckle.

  “It’s not funny. I have to act like I don’t notice. I have a feeling if I give him so much as a sideways smile he’s gonna sniff at my heels until I give in.”

  “Assuming this guy is legit and didn’t know you worked for the city and isn’t sniffing, as you put it, just to use you to get what he wants with his project . . . why exactly would you not ‘give in’?” Erin asked over the rim of her glass that did a shitty job of hiding her smile.

  “I’ve gotten used to being employed.”

  “Once he’s through the city’s red tape . . .”

  “It’s going to take months, years. And I’m sure by then he’ll realize I’m not his type.”

  “How are you not his type?”

  Grace took a few minutes to look up Mr. Locke on her phone to learn a bit more about the man. “He’s society-page rich, and I live in a condo down the street. Different worlds.”

  “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

  Grace caught her breath. “That doesn’t count.”

  Erin pointed to her chest. “I’m society-page rich, as you put it, and I love your brother and wouldn’t trade him in for anything.” Erin and her sister had come into half the controlling stock of a company that was worth billions. Their share had made them incredibly wealthy over the past few months. “Money doesn’t have to be a factor.”

  “True. But to be fair, you and Matt got together when you both thought you were scraping along like the rest of us. Guys like Dameon Locke can snag any arm candy they want. Even if she only wants his money. When men like him play in my field, it’s to prove they can.”

  “I really want to tell you you’re wrong,” Erin said.

  “But you know I’m right. When you were married to the rich prick, you knew the game.” Erin had been born with money and walked away from all of it to escape her ex. Technically, she was a widow, but she didn’t like the title, so everyone referred to the man as her ex. Calling herself a widow was met with sympathy from outsiders. No one was sorry the man was dead.

  “There are nice guys out there with money.”

  Grace lifted her hand and signaled the waiter. “While you’re writing a list of their names, I’ll be looking for Dameon’s faults. I’m always looking at the good and miss the red flags, even with them waving in front of my face.”

  Erin grimaced. “Dameon is a name I think of when I watch scary movies with vampires or the devil.”

  “See!” Grace pointed at her. “Fault. I thought the same thing.”

  “On the other hand . . . Dameon and Grace has a fabulous sound to it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You work too much.”

  Dameon looked up at the underside of his mother’s kitchen sink with a wrench in one hand and a towel in the other. “You mean like I’m doing right now to replace this crappy faucet? I should have gone with my instincts and hired a plumber.”

  “Your father always did the repairs around here and you promised to do it when he left us. So don’t go pawning off your chores on someone else.”

  The faucet was older than him and just as stubborn as his mother. “I’m under here, aren’t I?”

  “I’m not talking about minor house repairs. I’m talking about that fancy office job that’s killing you.”

  “Who says I’m dying?” Damn bolt was rusted and wouldn’t budge. He’d been at it for thirty minutes and only managed to twist the thing in four complete rotations. And from the threads on it, he was going to be at it until morning.

  “When was the last time you went to a doctor?”

  “I’m not sick.”

  “How do you know if you don’t go to the doctor? Every time I see Dr. Menifee he gives me another pill.”

  He switched to a locking wrench and braced his foot on the opposite counter for leverage. Dameon didn’t know what hurt more, his arms from keeping them elevated above his head, or his back that rested on the straight edge of the sink cabinet.

  “Oh, yeah . . . what did the good doctor prescribe this time?” He counted to three in his head and gave the wrench all he had.

  “C ohhh enzyme something or other,” his mom said.

  Her words didn’t register, and the bolt moved.

  “Yes!” He positioned the wrench again, and this time the bolt gave way. As it did, bits of rust fell into his face. He closed his eyes and kept his lips sealed as he worked the rest of the bolt free.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “No, Mom . . . I’m having a party under here.”

  His mom’s face popped into his field of view. “Oh, did you get it?”

  “Yes, I did.” And without so much as one f-bomb escaping his mouth. That had to be a first.

  “I’ll put the chicken in the oven, then. And by the time it’s all done, I’ll be able to do the dishes.”

  He wanted to argue, say he couldn’t stay for dinner, but knew it would be a waste of his breath.

  “Skip the salt on the chicken,” he told her.

  “Oh, did your doctor say it’s bad for you, too? That’s how it started with your father, you know.”

  “Not me, you.” His mother was only sixty-five, but she often acted like she was eighty. And outside of her blood pressure soaring into the high zone, his mother was healthy as a horse. Truth be told . . . he knew nothing about horses or their overall health.

  An hour later, the new faucet was in, his back was out, and Dameon had a beer in his hand.

  Lois, his mom, stood in front of her sink turning the water on and off repeatedly. “So fancy,” she told him.

  “I could really show you fancy if you let me fix up the place.”

  She pulled the spray handle down and turned it on once again. “This is fancy.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Your father left me quite comfortable. Save your money for you. Or help your brother out.”

  Just mentioning his younger brother had Dameon picking up his cell phone. “If Tristan ever wants a job—one he would actually do—he knows where to find me.” They both knew that would never happen. Tristan was allergic to work. He’d worked for Dameon for less than two weeks three years ago, and said he couldn’t hack it. Now he lived in what looked like a hostel with a dozen other pot-smoking surfers just outside of San Dieg
o. What he did for money, Dameon could only guess. At least he didn’t harp on their mom for support.

  Lois brought the chicken to the table and put her hand over his. “Your brother is finding himself.”

  “At the end of a joint? Chances are, he isn’t going to find anything.”

  She walked back to the stove and brought the rest of their dinner. “That stuff isn’t that bad.”

  “It’s making him lazy.”

  Lois took her seat and put a hand under her chin. “It always made me hungry.”

  His hand that was reaching for the chicken stopped midway. “Excuse me?”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “I did grow up in the sixties. Don’t be so shocked. In fact, it was your father that offered me my first joint. It was illegal then.” She whispered illegal as if the walls were listening.

  Dameon blinked. “I know.”

  She grinned like a teenager with a secret. “I remember it being fun. Your father used to like to—” She stopped midsentence and pinched her lips together.

  Much as Dameon wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she was about to say, he found himself asking, “Like to what?”

  Lois smiled and looked at the ceiling as she often did when talking about his dad. It had been five years since he had a sudden heart attack and died within twenty-four hours. It had been a blow to all of them.

  His mom lowered her voice to a rough whisper and leaned forward. “It made him horny.”

  Dameon squeezed his eyes shut and thought for sure his ears were bleeding. “Okay, then . . . thank you for that.”

  “Well, it did.” Her voice was back in its normal range. “We had the best sex—”

  “Mom! Please. I’m glad to know you and Dad were happy flower children, but if you want me to eat, save the descriptions.”

  His mom started laughing.

  It didn’t take long for him to join her.

  When they both stopped, he continued to fill his plate.

  “I miss him every day.”

  He reached over and patted her hand. “I know.”

  “It’s why I don’t want to change stuff around here.”

  “I know that, too. But eventually—”

  “Eventually. But not today.”