“Okay, keep talking. You obviously have things to say.”
“Have you ever met someone you just can’t stop thinking about?” Dameon asked before taking the first drink of his beer.
“Yeah. Then I sleep with them and forget their name.”
He rolled his eyes. “Which is why you are the first person I thought of when I wanted to come here tonight. I knew you weren’t busy.”
“I’m busy when I want to be,” Omar defended himself.
“Grace is different. She’s like this tight ball of confidence and humor. She’s trying so hard to deny our attraction.”
“Wait, what? Someone is denying the great Dameon Locke?”
“Yes . . . no, not really. She thinks it’s wrong since I’m working with the city right now. Conflict of interest.”
Omar rested an elbow on the bar and tipped his glass Dameon’s way. “She has a point. A conflict for her, not you. You said she was an engineer?”
“Yeah.”
“Not to sound sexist, but that’s odd, isn’t it? Most of the engineers we’ve dealt with are men. Stoic, humorless men.”
When Dameon took a second to think on it, Omar was right. “Analytical personalities. Comes with the job, I guess.”
“But not your Grace?”
“No . . . I mean, yes . . . analytical when she’s talking about her job and the project. Her mind is going a mile a minute. Like a ticker tape rolling constantly.” Dameon tipped his beer back. “But funny.”
“And hot, I’m guessing.”
The memory of tilting her head back, and the heat in her eyes. “Yeah. Not like Lena.” He’d dated Lena off and on for about a year. “Petite, curvy . . . has a girl-next-door thing going.”
“That doesn’t sound like your type at all.”
“Yeah,” he huffed. “She has a job.”
They both laughed, and Tommy stopped by and dropped off silverware.
“I have two problems, though,” Dameon said.
“Other than the fact that her boss might hold it against her if she’s seen messing with a client?”
“Okay, three problems.”
Omar pushed the shot glass Dameon’s way. “Problems require whiskey.”
How could he argue with that? They saluted each other and knocked the liquor back. The back of his throat warmed all the way to his stomach.
“The first is her brother.” Dameon reenacted the scene at the house from the door barging open to the big brother’s handshake and unmistakable instant dislike. “The other issue is her friend thinks I’m a stalker.”
“How did that happen?” Omar asked.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out. I saw Grace at the hotel. But we didn’t talk then. The next morning, she walks into the coffee shop, hungover, and I approach her. Monday morning, she walks into the city office and . . .” He stopped. “I did call her from her Facebook page.”
Omar nearly spit out his beer. “You what?”
Now that Dameon said it aloud, he realized how the facts stacked up against him. “Holy shit, no wonder her friend thinks I’m stalking her.”
Tommy pushed a hot plate in front of both of them and looked at the bottle of whiskey. “You boys nursing this, or are you drinkin’?”
Omar put a finger in the air, signaling another round.
Tommy winked, poured, and walked off.
“First . . . stop using Facebook.”
“I figured that out.” It had felt genius at the time.
“You need to make good with the brother. And in my experience, if the girlfriends don’t like you, you’re running uphill the whole time.” Omar popped a fry in his mouth, picked up another.
“The girlfriend is dating her other brother.”
Omar picked up the second shot. “The whole fam damily is hating on you. You’ve got some ass kissing to do if you want in with this lady.”
Dameon reached for the shot. “Do you know how long it’s been since I needed to have anyone approve?” He was pretty sure it was high school and a sixteen-year-old’s father was involved.
“. . . or you can call Lena.”
Just thinking of that put a bad taste in his mouth that a bite of his dinner didn’t repel. “I’ll start with the brother.”
Dameon was formulating a way to do just that as he took the second shot Omar was offering.
CHAPTER TEN
Grace was back in Dameon’s house.
Rain fell on the roof like the march of a wartime drum. Nothing natural about it.
His back was to her, but her belly warmed in anticipation of him turning around.
She wanted his kiss even if she shouldn’t. And in here . . . in a dream she knew was a dream but could taste the scent of him, she could let Dameon hold