Dameon called the meeting over, and Tyler and Chelsea left the room.
Omar hung back. “We’re going to make this work,” he assured Dameon with a pat on the back. “We started this with grit and guts.”
Dameon laughed. “We started it at a bar, drunk off our asses.” Omar had been an accounting major and had switched to business finance. Maxwell was the aforementioned trust-fund kid who was taking business classes because his father told him to. And Dameon had already gotten his contractor’s license and was getting a degree in business so he didn’t have to pound nails for the rest of his life.
By the time Locke Enterprises was born, it was money Dameon had earned flipping a dozen homes and one apartment complex that started it all. But the nest egg he’d built wasn’t enough to get to the next level. Which was where Maxwell came in.
Maxwell didn’t like to work. He was a silent investor who met with Dameon and Omar once a month to either pick up or drop off a check.
Until last year.
“I think we need more drunk nights at a pub,” Omar suggested.
Dameon dismissed his thoughts and faked a smile. “Maybe so.”
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