I nodded. I was fifty-three, but I didn’t need to point that out.

  “A fifty-year-old man doesn’t change his ways. He’s set in them. And you are worse than most. You’re spoiled from your fame and success. My Brielle, she’s not spoiled at all. Furthest thing from it. The two will not match. She sees right through you. Although that Cam, he sure would like to meet you. He’s a drummer, too, you know.”

  Mrs. Jo knew about Cam then. I wondered if she knew that the drummer was going to be cheated on tomorrow night by the virtuous Brielle. I wouldn’t be the one to clue the older lady in. If she wanted to protect Brielle, so be it.

  “I have no interest in Brielle. She isn’t my type—you’re right about that,” I told her.

  “Andrew is on his way. I’ll help you pack up some things to stay over at his place a few nights,” Brielle said, and I lifted my gaze from Mrs. Jo to look at Brielle.

  She was pissed, but she was trying to cover it up. I watched her closely, and not one time did she look in my direction. It was as if I were fucking invisible. She was mad because I had said she wasn’t my type. I continued to observe her as she walked Mrs. Jo to her wet apartment, and the firemen arrived through the doors leading to the stairs. I had them to deal with now, but I’d get back to the sexy, angry Brielle later.

  six

  brielle

  “I have no interest in Brielle. She isn’t my type.”

  I scowled as the words replayed in my head. I had tried to not care about them. It wasn’t as if I wanted to be his type. Dean Finlay was not my type. For starters, he was old. As if I wanted a man that age. Maybe, once, when I had been a silly teenager with a crush, his age hadn’t mattered. But now, I was a grown woman with good sense, and he wasn’t my type!

  I glared at the sight of my wet apartment, and I groaned. This was a mess. I was lucky that the sprinklers hadn’t gone off in every room. Just the ones that shared a wall with Mrs. Jo’s apartment. Which included the living room and my bedroom. Cam’s bedroom was dry, and his drums were safe. That was the biggest relief. I had renters insurance, but it was a basic plan. I didn’t think the drums would be covered in it. I’d spent months working nights, delivering groceries after a full day at the college, to pay for Cam’s used drum set. But the joy on his face Christmas morning had made every single exhausted moment worth it.

  A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to open it. Anything to distract me from my current situation. An attractive blonde woman stood on the other side with an iPad in her hands, smiling at me. Before either of us could say anything, Dean appeared behind her.

  “Brielle, this is Maegan. She’s the building manager, and she needs to come assess the water damage in your apartment,” Dean said.

  I glanced back at my apartment. “I have renters insurance,” I said, not sure why she needed to assess my damage.

  “You won’t need to file a claim with your insurance. This is not your fault, and the building’s insurance will cover it,” Dean informed me.

  I was relieved. I hated that he had said something that eased my worries. I didn’t want any help from Dean, but he did own this building, and if he wanted this to be covered by the building’s insurance, I wasn’t petty enough to argue. He might not be my type, but he was my landlord.

  Fate had a way of twisting life up in ways you never expected. Screw fate and its bad sense of humor.

  “Okay,” I replied, stepping back for Maegan to enter. Thankfully, Dean didn’t follow her.

  “Do I need to stay or wait outside?” I asked her.

  “You do what you’re comfortable with. I just want to make sure I get all the damage noted so that everything is covered,” she said.

  I debated on standing over her while she worked, or maybe going to my wet bedroom, or getting out of her way. I didn’t think my things were in any danger of being stolen.

  Making a quick decision, I moved toward the door. “I’ll just get out of your way. If you need me, I’ll be right out here.”

  “Excellent,” she replied.

  When I turned, my eyes locked with Dean’s, and I realized I had made a hasty decision. My wet bedroom would have been a better place to wait this out. Or even Cam’s dry bedroom.

  He was watching me closely. I jerked my gaze from his and looked out into the hallway as I walked past him. I hadn’t come out here to talk to him or discuss anything about the damage. Maegan looked capable of handling it herself. She was also a gorgeous blonde in her mid-thirties with lips so plump that they could not be natural and legs for miles. I had no doubt she was Dean’s type, and for now, her job was safe. Until he got bored with her.

  “Everything,” he said, and I glanced back at him to see his focus on Maegan.

  “Of course,” she replied.

  I crossed my arms over my stomach and stared at the green walls that would soon be a light blue. They needed it now more than ever. The smoke had damaged the paint closest to Mrs. Jo’s apartment door. Most of her apartment would need a fresh coat of paint. I frowned, thinking about how long that would take and that she wouldn’t be back in her apartment for her birthday next week. I was going to make her a cake and get some party hats, horns, and sparkler candles to celebrate, like we did every year. Now, she wouldn’t be here.

  “It’s going to be fine. Everything will be replaced,” Dean said, now standing beside me.

  I glanced over at him and simply nodded. He was right. No one was injured. Mrs. Jo wasn’t hurt. Things could be replaced. I wasn’t upset about that, but I wasn’t going to waste my time, telling him about the little birthday party I had planned for Mrs. Jo’s seventy-eighth birthday.

  He and I weren’t friends. We might even be enemies. I wasn’t sure how to categorize us. Not that I had to categorize it. Keeping Dean Finlay firmly out of my life was my main goal. I wasn’t some silly woman who needed or wanted his attention.

  “Come with me,” Dean said.

  I snapped my head up to stare at him. “Excuse me?”

  He smiled. “Please? Come with me?”

  I looked back at my open apartment door.

  “Maegan has this under control. She’ll make sure everything is taken care of. If there is any issue, she will call me. You’ve had a stressful experience. Mrs. Jo told a firefighter how you came into her apartment and used the fire extinguisher to put out the flames, then got her out of there. That’s a lot. Come upstairs with me. I have beer or soda if you prefer. Just come sit and relax. Decompress. This could take a while.”

  I was torn here. I was curious about his penthouse. A soda sounded good too. But then hadn’t I just thought about him as an enemy?

  I glanced at my apartment. He was being a very thorough landlord by making sure things were fixed. He was arrogant and self-absorbed, but then again, he was famous. It was just a drink and a place to wait. It wasn’t as if he were asking to be my friend. He wouldn’t be a part of my life. This wouldn’t hurt anything.

  Shrugging, I turned my attention back to him. “Okay. Sure,” I replied.

  His eyebrows shot up, as if he was shocked by my response, and I couldn’t blame him. I was a little shocked myself. This could possibly be a mistake.

  “I want to see what your penthouse looks like. It’s just curiosity,” I admitted.

  I didn’t want him to think I was afraid he might be trying to lure me into his apartment to seduce me. I knew that wasn’t on his agenda.

  Dean chuckled. “Fair enough,” he replied. “Elevator was down for a few minutes, but it’s working again. We can take it.”

  I followed him into the elevator, and the smell of smoke was even inside this small space.

  “How long have you lived here?” he asked me.

  “You have my lease and all my personal information,” I replied.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I do. But I’d rather ask you than go snooping. It’s called small talk.”

  Fine. There was no point in being rude. I couldn’t always be annoyed by him. He was being nice for the moment.

  “Almost four years,” I told him.

  I didn’t elaborate on the fact that getting the job at the college was the reason we had been able to move to this side of town. Before then, we had lived in a rough area, where I’d shared a room with Cam. Most nights, you could hear gunfire and police sirens. It gave me comfort to have Cam in the same room as me then. Moving here changed our lives. Gave Cam some independence and privacy. More importantly, it had given him a better education.

  “Where did you move from?” he asked me then.

  “Across town,” was the only answer he was getting.

  The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out into an elaborate entryway with a marble floor and light fixtures with a flickering gas flame in them. The black double doors were wide and shiny. I took it all in as I slowly followed him to the entrance. He pressed a code, and the right door opened.

  “My stove is electric,” I said.

  He glanced back at me. “If it’s damaged, Maegan will make sure it’s replaced.”

  I shook my head. That wasn’t what I’d meant. “My stove isn’t gas. Neither is my heating. But you have gas lanterns. How … when did the building get gas?” And does the building have carbon monoxide detectors?

  “It had the gas lines already. They were just capped off and not being used,” he replied, then stepped back to allow me to enter his penthouse.

  “What the fuck took you so long? I’m starving, and you haven’t got shit to eat,” a male voice called out.

  Dean sighed heavily, as if he was annoyed or had possibly forgotten he had company.

  Before he could reply, Kiro Manning appeared in the entrance, holding a beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. He held up the chips and beer. “This is shit food, Dean. Get yourself together, man.”

  “Brielle, this is Kiro, my uninvited guest,” Dean said, then nodded for me to follow him as he began walking toward Kiro.

  My gaze swung back to Kiro Manning, and I found him staring at me with interest. Kiro didn’t age. He was one of those men who had seemed to stop the aging process at around forty.

  “I see. Your need to own an apartment complex in hell makes more sense now,” he drawled suggestively.

  “Don’t.” Dean’s tone was hard, and the warning in it was clear.

  However, the amused smirk on Kiro’s face said that he didn’t care. Kiro didn’t seem to care about much. He had a persona that he’d held his entire career in the business. Kiro was the bad boy.

  “This is the kind of midlife crisis I could be a part of,” Kiro said and winked at me.

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I was sure he expected me to gush or fangirl. He wouldn’t get either from me. My days of being starstruck were over.

  “Ignore him. Come with me. I’ve got beer or sodas you can choose from,” Dean said to me.

  I moved then toward Dean, suddenly feeling like he was the lesser of the two evils even though, deep down, I knew they were the same. Dean was just smoother with his approach. Kiro appeared threatening in a way that wouldn’t bring violence, but it could be unsettling. I wasn’t into older men these days, but like every female in the world, I had my own opinion on who the best-looking Slacker Demon was. Dean Finlay had been my choice since I was in junior high. Of course, back then, I hadn’t met him and had no idea what a jerk he could be. Clara was a Kiro fan. This would be a dream come true for her.

  Clara had seen them in concert seven times. One time, when I had almost gotten in but didn’t, was as close as I’d gotten to seeing them in concert. That night was enough for me. Things changed for me after that. My life had altered and would never be the same. With it, my perception of Slacker Demon had changed as well. I no longer cared for their music. The memories it brought me were some I wanted to put behind me.

  Dean led me into a kitchen that was the size of my apartment and opened the door to a fridge that had a television on the front of it. I stared in amazement. I’d seen commercials about fridges like this, but never had I seen one in person.

  “Help yourself,” Dean said, stepping back and waving a hand at the fridge.

  It was full of food. Kiro had said he didn’t have anything, but there was more food in here than I bought for Cam and me in a month.

  I walked up to the fridge and took out a diet soda, then stepped back. “Thanks,” I said to Dean.

  “Want anything else?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  He grabbed a bottle of water, then closed the door.

  “Sorry about Kiro. With all the shit downstairs, I forgot he was here. I should have warned you,” he said to me.

  “Thanks for the drink, but I can go back downstairs. I don’t mind waiting down there,” I told him.

  He frowned. “No. You need to sit down and relax. Kiro is harmless—for the most part.”

  I wanted to reply, What? I’m not his type either? But I simply gave a curt nod. There was no reason to dwell on that comment or let him know I cared that he’d said it.

  “The view is good. Come on in the living room and relax. Maegan will let me know when she’s done.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, and against my better judgment, I followed him into the next room.

  Kiro was sitting down on a white leather sectional that was so big that it took up most of the room. His feet were propped up on a large, round ottoman big enough for several people to put their feet on. His legs were crossed at the ankles, and a beer was resting on his leather-clad thigh.

  Whereas Dean looked like a rocker, Kiro screamed rock star in his choice of clothing, hair, swagger, everything. He could never look normal. The fact that he was a grandfather made the magazines and news regularly. Kiro did not look or act like a grandfather. His clothes were flashy and unlike anything a regular person would wear.

  “Was it your apartment that had the fire?” Kiro asked me as I sat down at the opposite end of the sectional.

  I shook my head. “It was my neighbor’s.”

  Kiro cut his eyes to Dean. “The neighbor must not be a hot piece of ass.”

  Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”

  Kiro looked offended or surprised. “What?”

  “You know what,” Dean drawled, leaning back and resting his left ankle on his right knee.

  “The fuck I do. I was just stating facts,” he replied, pointing his beer bottle at me. “She’s a smokeshow, and she has a nice set of—”

  “Kiro,” Dean snapped, his voice louder now.

  “Tits, sugar. You got some real nice tits, and Dean loves some fucking big titties.”

  “Jesus, can you not be normal ever?” Dean asked, disgusted.

  “This is normal. It’s life. She’s a hot piece of young ass with big tits, and you want to be buried between those thighs so bad—”

  “Out,” Dean said, standing up and pointing toward a different door than the one we had entered. “Now. Go see Lila Kate. Go be a fucking normal grandfather. Just go.”

  Kiro laughed and slowly stood up. “Fine. Be someone you’re not. Pretend you’re not after a hot fuck. She’ll figure it out soon enough. So will Maegan for that matter. Better watch Maegan’s claws. I have proof they’re as sharp as motherfucking knives.”

  Dean sighed and shook his head. “Bye, Kiro.”

  Kiro winked at me again. “See you around, sugar.” Then, he sauntered toward the door Dean had pointed to without a backward glance.

  I wondered if Dean was the only person in the world who could get away with talking to Kiro Manning like that.

  I glanced up at Dean, who was scowling and using one hand to massage his temples before meeting my gaze for a brief moment, then sitting back down on the sofa.

  “Sorry about him. That’s just how he is.”

  “He’s a rock star,” I said.

  Dean chuckled after a moment, then looked at me. “But I’m not?”

  I lifted one shoulder. “Yes, but it’s not your persona. Kiro is the bad boy. The face of the band. He’s known for his crude behavior. You’re not. You’re known for your talent on the drums and for being a good dad despite your job. Although I’m positive you’ve had your own bad behavior, you just don’t flaunt it.”

  I was surprised I’d said all that. It was true, but it sounded almost as if I were defending him. I wasn’t. I also didn’t want him to know just how much I knew about Slacker Demon. About him.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied me.

  “Are you a Slacker Demon fan, Brielle?” he asked me.

  My gaze dropped down to my soda, and I fidgeted with the top of it. How was I going to handle this? With honesty? Lies? Tell part of the truth?

  After a brief internal debate, I lifted my gaze to meet his. “I was once.” There. That was the truth.

  A corner of his mouth tugged up. “Once, huh?” he asked. “I’m assuming our first meeting changed that.”

  It had nothing to do with that day in the office. I’d already formed an opinion about Dean. He confirmed it that morning. I hadn’t been a fan long before that moment. Dean, however, needed to make his own assumptions, and I wasn’t going to deny or admit anything. The more I did, the more curious he would become.

  “I grew up,” I said simply.

  Dean placed a hand over his heart. “Ouch.”

  I managed to smile then. “My tastes in music changed.”

  “I’m afraid to ask who your favorite band is now,” he said.

  I didn’t have one. Not really. I didn’t tell him that though.

  I shrugged.

  Dean’s phone rang then, and he stood up and slid it from the pocket of his jeans.

  “Hello? Okay. Are you sure you got it all? That’s fine. Go ahead and start the process. It is your top priority. Yeah.”