My last date had been at least two years ago. It was incredibly boring. He’d talked about his football years in college, and he’d been thirty-two.

  “Drinks sound nice, and I’m Brielle,” I replied before I could talk myself out of it. I wasn’t going to agree to dinner in case this date was a bomb too. Shorter the commitment, the quicker I could escape.

  He grinned at me then, and I realized he had a great smile. I hadn’t paid much attention to it before.

  “Yeah, I know. I heard your neighbor call you by name the first night I saw you,” he replied. “I’m off tomorrow. That too soon?”

  He had remembered my name. That was nice.

  “Tomorrow sounds good,” I replied.

  “Seven? Or earlier? Later?” he asked.

  “Seven is fine,” I told him since I would probably eat at five thirty.

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  I paused at that. I wasn’t sure I was ready to get in the car with a man I didn’t know.

  “Can I meet you there?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “I should have asked if you wanted to do that. Sorry. Carmines is right around the corner. You wouldn’t have to go far. Is that good, or do you have another suggestion?” he asked.

  I knew Carmines well. They had excellent red velvet cupcakes.

  “Carmines works for me.”

  “Great. Well, okay. I’ll, uh, see you then. If not before. Since”—he nodded his head toward the hallway—“I’ll be working out here the rest of the day.”

  “Yeah, likely to see you at least once more today,” I told him.

  I started to tell him bye and close the door when another voice stopped me.

  “Brielle, what do you think of a very light blue for the walls? Brighten the place up a bit. This green is too fucking dark,” Dean’s smooth, deep voice asked, causing Gavin’s head to swing around in that direction.

  His cap and sunglasses were gone as he stood there, looking up at the ceiling fixtures that were twenty years out of date. “Those need to go too,” he said.

  I said nothing because it dawned on me that he now knew my apartment number. Although he did own the place and could have just looked into the files. Or maybe he already had, and that was why he was here.

  “Whatever color you choose should be fine, Mr. Finlay,” I replied.

  “Holy shit,” Gavin muttered under his breath.

  He must not have known who he was working for. He was standing there with his mouth hanging open, clearly in shock. I wanted to tell him not to waste his excitement on the man.

  Dean lifted one corner of his mouth in a half-smile. “Come on now, Brielle. You live here. You’ve got to have an opinion.”

  “Light blue sounds great,” I said. “I need to be going,” I added and looked back at Gavin to tell him good-bye, but he was focused on Dean, who had yet to acknowledge him.

  As I started to close my door, I heard Dean chuckle. Why did his laugh have to be sexy? He had all the fame and money in the world. He was still a worldwide heartthrob in his fifties. Couldn’t his laugh at least be annoying?

  I walked away from the door, not wanting to hear their voices, and headed to the bathroom to get a shower. Clara was coming over tonight, bringing tacos from our favorite food truck in West Beach, and we were going to watch a movie. She’d wanted to go out, but I’d refused to do that again this soon. The day after Cam had left, we had gone out, and I had hated it. Clara had settled for a man-free evening here.

  I just hoped Dean Finlay kept his ass upstairs, where he belonged. I didn’t intend for Clara to find out he lived here. She would want more than an autograph. Cam had wanted his autograph, but I failed him on that part. After Dean was a complete jerk from the moment he opened his mouth, I couldn’t ask him for anything that day. Why I had expected something more from Dean, I didn’t know. He was who he was.

  I loved my son, but he’d just have to live without getting that autograph. There was no way I was feeding that man’s already-massive ego.

  Once, I had wanted nothing more than to see Slacker Demon in concert. My boyfriend had gotten me a ticket to their concert, and I snuck out of my foster family’s house to meet him there since he hadn’t shown up to get me. When I arrived, I found out he’d been hooking up with my best friend, and he’d apparently given my ticket to her. That night set the course for my life, and I hadn’t even known it. One month later, I turned eighteen and was kicked out of my foster home. It was also the morning I’d missed my period.

  Just as the running water got warm enough for me to step inside, my phone dinged, alerting me of a message. I turned to glance at it and make sure it wasn’t Cam. A strange number was on the screen, and I reached for it.

  I’m glad you like the light blue. —D

  The bastard had gotten my phone number from my lease agreement. I dropped my phone onto the counter and got into the shower. I was not going to respond. Maybe he would think I had changed my number.

  five

  dean

  One quick call to Maegan, the building manager I had hired, and she gave me the list of residents, their apartment numbers, and their phone numbers. I didn’t need all of them. Just Brielle’s. Because I was curious. She entertained me. I wasn’t going to do anything about it because of her age, but I could have a little fun.

  Poor Cam didn’t know that while he was apparently out of town, she was going on a date with one of the men from the construction crew I had hired. Sure, she could bitch Cam out for not texting her, but she’d cheat on his ass real easy.

  I shook my head at the thought. It was a shame. I had hoped she might be different, but she wasn’t.

  The door to my private entrance swung open, and I turned to see Kiro walking into my penthouse. He was wearing a ripped T-shirt, black leather pants, and combat boots. I hadn’t been expecting him. He reached up and jerked his designer sunglasses off as he looked at me.

  “Why the fuck do you live in this hellhole?” he asked, then scanned the area. “Where’s the whiskey? There isn’t even a proper bar in this place.”

  “No whiskey, but there is beer in the fridge,” I replied.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why the fuck don’t you have whiskey? Jesus, man, get back to the Hills, where you belong.”

  Kiro was in Rosemary Beach more than he was in Beverly Hills these days. He knew why I was here, and it was the same reason he kept returning. His granddaughter, Lila Kate, and his daughter, Harlow. He had more grandkids and two more children—that we knew of—but he wasn’t as close to them. Harlow was the child birthed by the only woman Kiro had ever loved. She was the kid he cared about the most.

  “Stopping by to see me on your way to Rosemary Beach?” I asked him as I sat down on the sofa.

  “Don’t fucking go pointing that out. Visiting family is different than moving to this hellish part of the US. I can’t breathe out here. The air is too damn thick,” he said as he walked past me. “Where’s the damn kitchen?” he asked as he headed in the direction of the master bedroom.

  “The other way,” I told him.

  I’d ask him how he’d found me, my private entrance, and known the code to enter, but I already knew the answer—Maegan. She had been fucking Kiro back in LA, but then he got bored with her, and I offered her this job. She wasn’t some groupie. She’d been our estate manager until Kiro decided he was done with her and wanted her out.

  I heard him curse while ranting about my kitchen being too small, and I smiled. He would always be Kiro Manning, rock legend, lead singer of Slacker Demon. Not even sweet little Lila Kate could change his persona. His granddaughter, he worshipped. She looked so much like her mother at that age. He watched his cursing around Lila Kate, but that was about it.

  When he arrived back in the living room, he held up the beer, scowling. “You can do better than this shit,” he said, then sat down across from me.

  “I take it, you are talking to Maegan again,” I said.

  He let out a short laugh. “Hell no. She was too attached. That’s a closed fucking book.”

  “But you called her to get my information,” I pointed out. “And she gave it to you.”

  He shrugged. “So? You and I have lived together since we were twenty years old. We own a house together. She knows that. Why wouldn’t she give me the code to your penthouse?”

  Because he didn’t own this place. But I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t like Kiro was going to be visiting often. He hated the Florida heat and humidity. Besides, with him here, I wasn’t alone.

  “You want to head to Rosemary with me? Visit the kids?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Rush just left a few hours ago. I told him I’d be there sometime next week.”

  Kiro waved his beer around. “What the fuck you gonna do here?”

  I had been debating on checking out Brielle McGinnis on social media. See if she had an Instagram or even a TikTok. I was more intrigued by her than I needed to be, but who the fuck could blame me? Her barely covered ass down at the pool had taunted me. I liked her sass and attitude. Then, there were her tits. Damn, I liked big tits, and she had an excellent set. Even if she was a cheater … but then maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she and Cam had an open arrangement. Who was I to judge? Especially after the shit I’d done.

  “I have to meet with the construction crew. I noted some more renovations today that should be done,” I told him.

  “Didn’t you hire Maegan for that shit?” he asked.

  I had hired Maegan to manage the building, not the construction, but I wasn’t going to explain that to Kiro. He’d have no idea what that meant. The last job he’d had, other than entertaining millions of people with his voice, was a fast-food joint when we were eighteen. My renovating this place was work to him. He didn’t comprehend my desire to do it.

  A loud alarm suddenly went off, and I stood up, recognizing it. A fire alarm. FUCK!

  “Holy hell, what is that noise?” Kiro asked, not moving from his relaxed position.

  “Fire alarm,” I said, heading toward the door that led to the main elevator.

  The stairs were located in the private entrance. I needed to get to the source of the smoke faster than that.

  My phone started ringing, and Maegan’s name lit up the screen.

  “Where is it?” I asked her as the elevator doors opened.

  “Security system says the third floor.” Her words were rushed. “But it just says smoke detected. The sprinklers have only gone off on the third floor. Maybe not even every apartment. I can’t be sure. This is new, and I am still working out how to read the system alerts.”

  “I’m headed there now,” I snapped, then ended the call as I stepped into the elevator.

  Kiro stood at my open door, watching me. “In a fire, you’re supposed to take the damn stairs,” he barked at me.

  “You take the stairs and get out,” was my response.

  I let the elevator close, and I went down to the third floor—Brielle’s floor. I didn’t know if it was her apartment, but I did know there were only three apartments on the third floor.

  Brielle and the apartment beside hers were smaller, but the apartment across from hers was a three bedroom/three bath with double Brielle’s square footage. The apartments on the first and second floor were either Brielle’s size or smaller. The fourth floor had two of the larger apartments, and then there was my floor.

  When the doors to the elevator opened, the first voice I heard was Brielle. She was talking to someone in a comforting tone. The sound of her voice calmed me, but I didn’t want to think about that too deeply.

  I hadn’t raced down here to make sure she was safe. I was worried about all my tenants and my investment.

  My gaze went from Brielle’s door to her neighbor’s, where I found her with her arm around an older lady as she talked to her. The older lady’s door was open, and the smoke was wafting from it. I could also see the sprinklers going off inside the apartment. That was going to be a fucking mess to clean up.

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Jo. Everything is fine. It was just a little oven fire. It’s taken care of, and all your things will dry. Now, take a deep breath and relax. You’re safe,” Brielle said to the older lady, who was clearly rattled but taking a deep breath, just like Brielle had told her to do.

  “I forgot to set the timer. I never forget that. I always remember when I got a pie in the oven,” the lady said in a shaky voice as she looked at Brielle.

  “Everyone forgets things sometimes. I forgot to put the milk back in the fridge yesterday, and it sat out all night. This morning, it was completely ruined. It happens. But you’re okay,” Brielle told her. “Do you want me to call Andrew?”

  The older lady nodded.

  “Let’s walk over to my apartment then and get you seated on the sofa while I call him,” she said just as the sprinklers inside the apartment shut off.

  Brielle turned back to look at the door when she saw me standing there.

  “Fire department and the building manager are on their way,” I told her.

  She nodded, then sighed heavily. “It was an accident,” she told me in a tone that made it clear she would go into battle for the older lady if she needed to.

  “Is everyone okay?” I asked her.

  She nodded again. “Mrs. Jo is just shaken. She was on her balcony, watering the plants, when it went off. It’s upset her.”

  I glanced at the woman, who was looking at me curiously. Taking a step in their direction, I held out my hand toward her. “I’m Dean Finlay. I own the building. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Jo,” I said to her.

  She did a quick scan of my entire body, as if sizing me up. Then, she put her small hand in mine. “You have an awful lot of tattoos,” she said to me.

  I smirked and nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  She shook her head, as if disappointed, then let go of my hand. “It’s a shame a man as good-looking as yourself would do that to his body. That could have been a nice chest you’re showing off, but you’ve gone and colored it all up.” Her gaze dropped back to it, and then she gasped. “Good Lord have mercy,” she said, then pointed a crooked finger toward my nipple piercing.

  I pulled my unbuttoned shirt together just as I heard a small laugh. I shifted my gaze to Brielle, and she was smiling. Damn, she had a great smile. Even if she was currently smiling because she was laughing at me. I didn’t fucking care. I liked looking at it.

  I returned her amused smile, and I could see the flicker of unease in her gaze as I did so. She wanted to hate me … and I liked it. How screwed up was that?

  “Come on, Mrs. Jo,” she said. “Let’s go call Andrew.” Then, she looked at me. “Andrew is her son. He can take her to his place until this is ready for her to come back.”

  I was glad she had somewhere to go until we could get her apartment cleaned up. The fire wasn’t my fault, nor was it my responsibility to replace what had been damaged, but I could, and I wanted to.

  “Can I do anything to help?” I asked Brielle simply because I didn’t want our conversation to end.

  She nodded toward Mrs. Jo’s apartment. “Get her apartment livable as soon as you can. She doesn’t like staying with Andrew.”

  I was about to suggest Mrs. Jo stay with Brielle when she opened her apartment door, and I heard her gasp loudly. I began moving in her direction.

  “Oh, honey, I am so sorry. This is all my fault,” Mrs. Jo exclaimed, sounding more upset than before.

  When I came up behind them, I took in the wet apartment. There was water pooling on the floor in several areas. But it wasn’t as bad as Mrs. Jo’s. This would be easier to clean up and dry out.

  “I’d better call Damar and Jim. Their apartment could be wet, too, and they won’t know until late tonight when they get home,” Brielle said, then patted Mrs. Jo’s arm. “This is okay. I’ll get my things dried up in no time. Don’t you fret. We are all safe. That’s what matters. This”—she waved her hand toward her apartment—“is just stuff.”

  “I take it, that is Damar and Jim’s apartment,” I said.

  Brielle turned to look back at me. She wasn’t smiling anymore. She just nodded. “If my phone didn’t get wet, then I should be able to call them and let them know that they need to come check it out.”

  I reached for my cell phone to text Maegan. She had a master set of keys and could check it for them. “I’ll have my manager check on it. No need to worry them if it’s not necessary,” I told her. Then, I lifted my gaze to hers. “iPhones are water-resistant now,” I added to ease some of her worry.

  “Yes, I’m sure they are, but mine is not. It’s not a new version,” she said with a touch of amusement in her voice.

  “They’ve been water-resistant for several years,” I assured her.

  She smirked then. “They weren’t water-resistant eight years ago,” she replied, then walked into her damp apartment.

  I watched her walk and enjoyed the view. The shorts she had on were tiny, and damn, I liked that too much.

  “Not your type, rock star,” Mrs. Jo said, reminding me she was there.

  I turned to look down at the lady. “Excuse me?”

  Mrs. Jo pointed in the direction Brielle had gone. “Brielle is a good girl. She’s not a rock-star groupie.”

  I narrowed my eyes, and a smile spread across my face. “You know who I am.”

  Mrs. Jo straightened her shoulders to appear taller and rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. I’m old, not dead. And that girl don’t need a tattooed, nipple-pierced rock star in her life. She’s got a good thing. Leave her be.”

  I studied the older lady for a moment. “What if I was looking to change my ways? Become a normal guy. Live a normal life.”

  She sighed and pointed a finger at me. “You can’t. Just like you can’t wash all that ink from your body, you can’t take back your past. You can’t decide that at … what, are you fifty now?”