“The last guy what?” He knew what she was about to say because Colin had filled him in. But since she hadn’t shared the information willingly, he tried to pull it out of her.

“Never mind.”

“No, Grace . . . the last guy what?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m being overdramatic or looking for sympathy. Or want you to feel sorry for me enough to pretend that we’re on the same page here.”

“The only thing I feel sorry for is the guys who didn’t see you for how amazing you are. But I’m glad they didn’t so I have a chance.”

“Do you always say the right things?” she asked with a nervous laugh.

“Talk to me, Grace.”

“The last guy . . . was Erin’s late husband. He pretended to be someone he wasn’t online and asked me to meet him at a bar. When I got there, the guy, or the picture of the guy I thought I’d been talking to, never showed up. But Erin’s ex did. I didn’t know anything about him. I’d never seen a picture, had no way of knowing who he was. I thought it was organic. That I’d met someone not through friends or a stupid dating app.”

Dameon felt his hand gripping his phone too tight as he waited for her to tell him the whole story.

“He said his wife was dead. That he hadn’t dated. I believed every lie he told me. I almost went back to the hotel with him, Dameon. I remember him putting his hands on my neck and squeezing just a little too hard when he kissed me.” Her voice cracked.

He closed his eyes. “God, Grace.”

“I don’t know what he planned to do that night. We were by the mall and one of my dad’s friends from the sheriff’s department saw us. Desmond was noticeably shook.”

“His name was Desmond?” Oh, damn . . . that’s not good.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the name he was using. Anyway . . . he backed off. Told me he was still married and his wife was trying to leave him. I was pissed. It wasn’t until later that I realized who he was. He was completely crazy. Tried to kill Erin instead of letting her leave him. I was lucky. You hear about things on the news, disappearing people, and I realized I was one bad choice away from being that woman.”

“I can’t imagine what you were feeling.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll tell you. I felt stupid. Like how the hell did I fall for his lines and believe him when there were red flags? I stopped trusting my instincts. Stopped trusting myself.”

“I’m sorry.” And he was.

“I don’t want your sympathy, Dameon. I want your word.”

“On what?”

“That if this isn’t working for you, or you get bored, or anything . . . that you’ll be honest with me. You won’t just stop talking to me, or pretend you’re happy when you’re not.”

The words he’d used describing his relationship with Lena flew back at him. He wished he could take them back. “You have my word.”

“Even if it’s painful.”

“Even if it’s painful, Grace. I respect you too much to consider any of those things.”

The line was silent.

“Thank you,” she finally said.

“No . . . thank you. For trusting me with that story.”

“It feels good to say all of that out loud.”

“Is this the first time you did?”

“My family knows what happened, but yeah. I don’t talk about it with them. Erin could have died. She was in the ICU for days. Seemed my brush with her ex was nothing in comparison.”

Dameon rubbed the tension settling in his shoulders. He wished he was there, holding Grace as she told her story. “I’m not a therapist, but I’m guessing they might point out that watching someone get shot and being the one who is shot can have long-lasting effects on both people.”

“I-I never thought about it like that.”

“I do.” And since Dameon had an insane desire to lift Grace’s mood, he told her something he thought she’d want to hear. “I told my mother about you.”

“You what?”

“Yeah. Right after we met. You hadn’t agreed to date me, but I told my mom that we already were.”

“You were that sure I’d cave?”

“I was that sure I wasn’t going to let you slip away without trying everything I could to give me a shot.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now that we have that out of the way . . . What the hell is a catfisher?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

New Year’s Eve was meant for sequins and sparkle and dresses that hugged your curves and high heels that made a man take you in from the tip of your head to the bottom of your toes.

So when Dameon showed up at her condo to pick her up, she opened the door to a bouquet of white roses and a man who couldn’t find his tongue.

He blew out a slow whistle. “Whoa.”

“Is that approval?” She knew it was, but asked anyway.

Dameon held the flowers to the side and walked through her door. “We can pretend we went and just stay home instead.” He slid a hand around her waist and wiggled his eyebrows.

“It took me forever to get ready.”

“It will take me less than ten minutes to mess it all up,” he teased.

She ran her hands up his suit and fiddled with his perfect tie. “Hi,” she whispered before reaching up for a kiss.

He kissed her thoroughly and moaned when she moved away.

Grace wiped the red lipstick off his mouth. “This isn’t your color.”

He licked his lips and smiled.

She glanced at the flowers in his hand while he stared at her. “Are those for me?”

Dameon lifted the roses toward her. “You make me forget my own name.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“You’re stunning.”

Yeah, that didn’t suck to hear.

He walked behind her while she gathered a vase to put the flowers in. Dameon’s strong hands held on to her waist and his lips kissed the side of her neck.

“You’re making this hard,” she said.

“I’ll stop.” Only he kissed her neck a second time before placing his lips to her ear. “I want to show you off.”

Because Dameon had told her they were going into the city, she’d packed an overnight bag to stay at his place. So with that in his hand, and a coat on her shoulders, they headed out for their first official date.

He led her to a Cadillac sedan and opened the door. “When did you get this?” she asked. She thought she’d be hiking it up in his truck instead of sliding into luxury.

“I have more than one car,” he told her.

“Of course you do.”

He closed the door, rounded the car, and got in on the driver’s side.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” she asked.

He pulled away from her complex and onto the main road. “Since my dad died, I’ve helped sponsor a Heart Association New Year’s Eve event.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“Don’t be too impressed. I’m one of many sponsors. I buy a table, invite some of my senior staff to join in. It works for charity and employee morale.”