Page 25

Maybe Caleb hadn’t used his demonic powers to get ahead in the poker tournament and instead had brought them all to bear on making sure there’d be a timely cancellation at Primal just when they needed one.

She waited as their server pulled out a chair for her, then sat down, wishing Caleb had warned her about where they were going.

Her silky top and heeled sandals and dark jeans were probably all right for most dining destinations around town, but if she’d known they were coming here, she would have put on a dress.

Then again, it was Las Vegas, and even the fanciest restaurants didn’t have much of a dress code beyond banning baseball caps and flip-flops and pants that slipped down far enough to reveal your underwear.

With that in mind, her pretty teal sleeveless blouse and Caleb’s rust-colored camp shirt were probably just fine.

No prices on the menu, but she already had a pretty good idea of what things cost, thanks to the way she’d researched the place when she’d thought she and Pru would have a girls’ night out here.

Depending on what kind of wine Caleb selected, Delia was pretty sure the meal would set him back at least five hundred bucks, maybe more.

Somehow, she doubted he would care much too much about that.

Since neither of them knew what they were ordering yet, they both agreed on a bottle of merlot, figuring that would go with a lot of different things.

Once their waiter went off to fetch the wine, Caleb settled against the back of his chair, although he was still looking down at the menu, eyes narrowed slightly as he absorbed the various offerings.

“Excited about making it to the quarterfinals?” she asked, and he set the menu on the table next to his place setting.

“I suppose so,” he replied. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether I was going to make it this far. Either all that studying paid off more than I thought, or the rest of the people in the competition just aren’t that good.”

Delia grinned. “I have a feeling it’s probably the former.”

“If you say so.”

The waiter came back with the wine, which he expertly uncorked — not that she’d expected anything less in an establishment like this — before tipping a scant quarter-inch into Caleb’s glass so he could taste it.

He pronounced the wine excellent, so their server poured a decent amount for her before going back to top off Caleb’s drink.

She’d already decided on the duck, figuring it wouldn’t be as heavy as a steak but would still go well with the wine. Caleb ordered a porterhouse, and soon enough, they were left to their own devices again.

Not that Delia thought they’d be able to discuss anything too sensitive here. Maybe they weren’t elbow to elbow with the people at the neighboring tables, but still, the restaurant was crowded enough that they’d need to watch what they said.

“Has Aaron shown the house?” Caleb inquired, his tone a little too casual.

Was he worried that the realtor might go poking around where he shouldn’t?

She supposed real estate agents ran that risk whenever they left a house on a lockbox, but it was just easier to let other agents view a property on their own schedules rather than having to handle the whole setup themselves.

“No,” Delia replied. “Or at least, while he told me he had some clients who might be interested in the place, he hasn’t said anything about actually giving them a tour yet.”

“Good,” Caleb said, and she lifted an eyebrow.

“I thought you wanted to get out from under that property.”

“I do,” he said calmly. “But I’d much rather it went to someone who’s represented by a different agent.”

Fair enough. It was his house, after all, and his was the final determination as to who would actually end up with it.

“Well, another agent showed it this morning,” Delia told him. “And I know Marcy can really get things moving if she thinks a house is perfect for someone, so it could be that we have an offer as soon as Monday morning.”

“That would be good,” Caleb responded. “It would be one less thing to worry about.”

Yes, he did have quite a lot on his plate right now.

True, until escrow closed — well, unless Marcy’s buyers were paying cash, which Delia sort of doubted — all sorts of things could go wrong and the deal could still fall apart, but even though horror stories abounded in the real estate industry, she’d only had that happen twice in the entire time she’d been selling houses.

“Then let’s drink to that,” she said as she lifted her glass.

Caleb obligingly raised his as well and clinked it against hers. Once they’d both had a swallow of merlot, however, he glanced around and said in an undertone, “But your realtor friend and his possible accomplice weren’t the only strange thing about the tournament.”

Pausing, Delia sent a quick glance to either side. No one seemed to be paying them much attention, and yet she still didn’t know if it was the best idea to be discussing this sort of stuff right now.

He’d obviously noted her wariness, because one corner of his mouth quirked as he remarked, “It’s okay. I’m not mentioning the big D-word. But still, there’s this one guy — Ty Carter. He was knocked out in the first qualifying round. I saw him at the casino today, though, which seemed strange.”

“Strange how?” Delia asked. “I mean, I don’t think it’s too weird that he might have come back to watch the competition. Maybe he was trying to study everyone’s strategies, see if he could pick up some tricks.”

A shrug, and Caleb swallowed some wine. “Under other circumstances, I might say maybe that’s all it was. But the guy’s vibe is…weird.”

“Like, big D-word?” After all, if anyone could sense a demon, it would be someone with demon blood in their veins.

His expression grew cloudy, as if he wasn’t quite sure he could explain what he was thinking. “Not exactly. The energy was off, but not off in that particular way.” He stopped there, brows pulling together, and then he shook his head. “I know I’m not explaining myself very well.”

Delia could tell he was frustrated, so she did her best to look sympathetic, even if she couldn’t quite understand what had set him off. “It’s okay,” she said. “Did this Ty Carter person do anything to disrupt the tournament or cause some other kind of problem?”

“Nothing like that,” Caleb replied immediately. “I suppose that’s part of the reason why I can’t figure out what’s going on with the guy. He’s just…watching.”

Which was sort of what spectators were supposed to do at a poker tournament. However, the man had definitely pinged Caleb’s radar, which meant something was going on even if he couldn’t explain what it was.

“Well, I can try to keep an eye on him when I come to watch you on Thursday,” she said, and at once, Caleb’s brows lifted.

“You don’t have to work?”

“I do,” she replied calmly. “But I started rearranging my schedule as best I could so I’d be free from three onward on those afternoons next week.”

“Even before you knew whether I’d be advancing to the quarterfinals?”

“Even before then,” she said. Yes, maybe it had been counting Caleb’s chickens before they hatched, but after his first win this past Thursday, she’d quietly begun moving whatever appointments she could to earlier in the day, and moving to the week after the competition any that absolutely had to happen after three in the afternoon.

Then she added, “I had a feeling you’d make it out of the qualifying rounds. ”

He smiled at her, the kind of genuine, unforced smile she guessed didn’t make an appearance very often.

Or rather, while she’d seen that look on his face once or twice, she had a feeling he hadn’t worn it too often before he’d come to Las Vegas.

Although he’d been reticent about his past, she could still tell that the life he’d left behind in Greencastle hadn’t been an entirely happy one, even though he’d lived in what sounded to her like a world of privilege.

“I appreciate that.”

The words were spoken simply, but Delia could sense the world of meaning behind them. For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she reached over to take his hand…if she gave herself permission to see where all this might lead.

But something held her back, and the moment passed.

However, she didn’t want to sound dismissive by saying it was nothing, so she summoned a smile of her own and said, “Everyone needs someone to cheer them on.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to be there for you when you need a cheering section.”

She didn’t know if that would be anytime soon — it wasn’t as if she was planning on entering a poker tournament or even a pickleball competition — but she appreciated the sentiment anyway.

They both seemed to realize they should move on to topics that were a little less fraught, so Delia told him how she planned to have an open house late on Wednesday afternoon…

well, unless either Marcy or Aaron or one of the other brokers who’d viewed the property came up with a qualified buyer before then…

and Caleb said he planned to visit several different casinos over the next couple of days so he could keep burnishing his Texas Hold ’Em skills.

“I probably won’t want to play another game for at least six months after this is all over,” he said with a grin.

“But I also don’t want to lose my edge by just sitting around and waiting for the quarterfinals to start.

So picking up a hand or two in the meantime seems like the best way to stay sharp. ”

“That does sound like a good plan,” she agreed, then paused. The question that had been floating around in her mind might have sounded rude, but she hoped Caleb wouldn’t take it that way.

And she was genuinely curious.

“So…what do you plan to do with yourself after the tournament?” she asked. “I mean, the house is done, so what’s next?”

He flashed her another of those patented Caleb Lockwood grins. “What, you mean sitting around the house and watching basketball isn’t an option?”

Delia reached for her wine and took a sip. “I think you should do whatever you want to do. But somehow, you don’t seem like the couch potato type.”

Another smile flickered around the corners of his mouth, but he had to wait to reply since the server finally showed up with their entrees. A minute or two was consumed by making sure they had everything they needed, but then he disappeared again.

“No, I’m not a couch potato,” Caleb agreed, as if their conversation had never been interrupted. “I’m not sure what to do, to be honest. I suppose I’ll keep looking for a likely flip. It was fun working on my house.”

“Doing a flip you don’t plan to live in is kind of a different beast,” Delia said, and his shoulders lifted.

“Oh, I know that. I know I’ll have to keep an eye on costs and not go crazy, or I won’t have any kind of return on my investment. But watching a house get transformed…there’s something fun about that. I didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as I did.”

Which was about the same way Delia had felt about those sorts of projects.

She’d genuinely regretted it when she and her mother had decided to get out of the flipping business, but the market had shifted since the time they’d determined the returns weren’t worth the investment, and now there were more likely prospects for those sorts of projects than there had been even six months ago.

“Then I’ll keep looking and let you know if anything promising turns up,” she said.

“Oh, I’m looking, too,” he replied as he cut off a chunk of porterhouse. Before he popped it in his mouth, he added, “But you probably have a better eye for what might work than I would.”

Most likely, just because she’d gone through the process a rough dozen times, and he only had one flip under his belt. To be honest, Delia wasn’t even sure whether they could call it that, since he hadn’t sold the house and instead had moved right in.

“I’m sure with the two of us looking, we’ll find the right project,” she told him, and something about his expression now seemed almost relieved, as if he hadn’t been sure whether she’d truly be on board with continuing to assist him in his house-flipping journey.

But Delia knew she was. If nothing else, she’d get to experience the process vicariously through him…and she had a feeling he’d want her design input going forward.

Fine by her. She loved shopping for fixtures and lighting and whatnot, especially if she wasn’t spending her own money.

“Then we should drink to our next project together,” he suggested.

They lifted their glasses again and made a ceremonial clink, sealing the deal.

It seemed that no matter what, both her personal and professional lives were going to be entwined with Caleb Lockwood’s for the foreseeable future.