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 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.”