Page 41 of Devil in the Details

“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.

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