Copyright © 2022 by Abbi Glines

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Copyright

To Marlana Grela- one of the most magical humans I’ve ever met. I’m lucky that I get to call her my friend.

Acknowledgments

Timeline for Dean Finlay

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Epilogue

Connect with Abbi

To Marlana Grela-

one of the most magical humans I’ve ever met. I’m lucky that I get to call her my friend.

Acknowledgments

I wrote a book during the fall of 2012 that changed my life. FALLEN TOO FAR was written for me. I was in contract with my publisher to write five more books in the Sea Breeze series but I needed a break from those characters. So, like many authors do, I wrote the story that was talking to me.

Rush and Blaire became the backbone of the Rosemary Beach Series. FALLEN TOO FAR was my first New York Times bestseller. FOREVER TOO FAR was my first #1 New York Times bestseller.

The son of a world-famous drummer and the step-sister he didn’t know or want from a small town in Alabama. They were the beginning of it all.

Now, ten years later, Rush’s famous father – Dean Finlay gets his story. Readers have been asking me to write this for years. When his story finally came to me I was excited to sit down and join that world once again.

Those who I couldn’t have done this without:

Britt always is the first I mention because he makes it possible for me to close myself away and write for endless hours a day. Without him I wouldn’t get any sleep.

Emerson for dealing with the fact I must write some days and she can’t have my full attention. I’ll admit there were several times she did not understand and I may have told my five-year-old “You’re not making it in my acknowledgments this time!” to which she did not care.

My older children who live in other states were great about me not being able to answer their calls most of the time and they had to wait until I could get back to them. They still love me and understand this part of mom’s world.

My editor Jovana Shirley at Unforeseen Editing for not only doing this last minute because I suck at deadlines but also for helping me make this story the best it could be.

My formatter Melissa Stevens at The Illustrated Author. Her work always blows me away. It’s hands down the best formatting I’ve ever had in my books.

Damonza for my book cover. This cover could not be more perfect. They are always a pleasure to work with.

Abbi’s Army for being my support and cheering me on. I love y’all!

My readers for allowing me to write books. Without you this wouldn’t be possible.

Timeline for Dean Finlay

1990

Dean 21 years old–Rush Finlay was born (Mentioned in Kiro’s Emily)

2014

Dean 45 years old–Nate Finlay is born (Rush’s son born in Never Too Far)

2022

Dean 53 years old–Going Too Far

2037

Dean 68 years old–Like A Memory (Nate’s story takes place when he is 23)

one

dean

A blunt was required when having to endure lunch with the president of the junior college I had attended for one semester back before Slacker Demon, the rock band in which I was the drummer, was formed. The best marijuana money could buy should make this bearable.

When my CPA had told me I needed another tax write-off, I had chosen to donate to my only college alma mater. They were always asking for donations. I figured they needed it. Besides, if I was going to move back to the Florida Panhandle, then I needed to invest in the area.

I hadn’t expected to be invited to lunch and asked if I would speak at next year’s commencement. Why the fuck they wanted a guy who didn’t have a degree speaking, I did not know.

What the hell would I say to the kids anyway? Good luck with those degrees. Do some drugs, but not too much. Rock on.

I inhaled the last bit of relief before pulling off my sunglasses and heading inside the main office on campus. The air-conditioning didn’t seem to be pumping hard enough to cool the building down. Must not be in the budget to keep the office staff comfortable during the summer months. Hopefully, lunch wasn’t going to be here. If I had to endure an ass-kissing by a middle-aged man, then I’d prefer to at least be comfortable.

Pushing the door open that was labeled Office, I stepped inside, and a breeze hit my face. I sighed in relief, turning to see three box fans going full force. They weren’t making things cool precisely, but slightly more bearable.

“When I text you, I expect you to respond, Cam.” A frustrated female voice caught my attention.

I turned to see the back of a woman with thick brown hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a pencil through it. She had a hand on her hip, and the blue sundress she was wearing clung to her curves. Probably from sweat. Although all three fans were pointed in her direction, they weren’t enough against this Florida heat.

“That’s not an excuse,” she snapped at the poor guy on the phone. “I don’t care,” she told him. Then, she sighed heavily. “Okay. I love you. Call me as soon as you get there.”

I winced. The dude was being kept under her thumb. I fought back the urge to yell, Run, man! Run like the wind! There isn’t a pussy worth that controlling behavior!

I glanced around to see if anyone else could direct me to the president’s office, but we were alone. I would have to wait for her to finish smothering the guy she was talking to. Then, it occurred to me that perhaps I could save him from this phone call. I needed directions, and Cam needed off the phone with that one.

I cleared my throat loudly.

“I have to go,” she said then spun around, and her eyes locked on mine. I saw them widen slightly as she put her phone down on the desk in front of her.

“Hello, Mr. Finlay. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t hear you come in. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

There were two things I realized in that moment. The first, she was sexy in that naughty librarian sort of way. Her eyes were so big and bright blue that you had to stare at them a moment before moving on. Her lips were full and painted a pale pink, and she had a rack on her that was hard to ignore. The second, I understood poor Cam a little better. He was probably around her age, and she was young—my guess would be mid-twenties. For a guy that age, hot pussy was a powerful force in his life. Perhaps it always would be. The life I had led numbed me to the power women yielded. I knew the deception that they could mask so well. My son’s mother had been a lesson I didn’t need to learn twice.

“Are you done with him? Or do you need to bark more orders before you help me?” I asked, wanting to point out her flaw. I’d like to say it was to make her think about how she spoke to her boyfriend next time, but it was for selfish reasons.

I didn’t want her to like me. No matter how tempting she was, I had sworn off younger women. I was too old for that shit. It was time I started dating women that didn’t want to reproduce and have families. I had a family. My son’s family. I didn’t want to raise another kid. I hadn’t been that great at it the first time.

Those eyes that had appeared so angelic narrowed slightly, and her nice, full lips thinned out. I’d pissed her off easily enough. I’d assumed it would take more rude comments to turn her against me. Normally, it took a lot more damage for a woman to look at me that way. Even after I was done with groupies, they smiled and thanked me as they left. I wasn’t a young man anymore, but I was Dean Finlay. My fame allowed me to get away with a lot. Women and most men forgave me anything. Ass-kissing was something I expected.

“Yes,” she said in a cold tone, and her shoulders straightened as she held my gaze, not once softening the glare she was shooting my way. “Please follow me,” she added.

Then, she turned so quickly that the pencil slipped from her messy bun, and more hair than I’d expected tumbled down in loose curls almost to her waist. It reminded me of a chocolate river—or maybe that was the marijuana getting to me. Either way, that shit was gorgeous. I wanted to run my fingers through it and see if it was as silky and smooth as it looked.

She picked up the pencil and muttered something under her breath, then came around the desk and gave me one last annoyed glance before heading for another set of doors across the room. I enjoyed the view of her ass swaying while she walked ahead of me.

Oh, yes, Cam, I understand why you are putting up with her mouth.

We walked in silence, and the urge to see how angry I could make her took over.

“Are you a student aide?” I asked her, knowing it was very unlikely.

“No. I work in admissions,” she said curtly.

I couldn’t remember the last time a female had spoken to me with such little interest. I was a rock legend. She knew my name; she knew who I was.

“Must be a shitty job,” I said. “Or are you always this … pleasant?”

She stopped and spun around to look at me, her hair swinging with the sudden move. I liked the way it did that. However, I had just made her angrier. There wasn’t even a pretend smile on her face. She was making it clear that she did not like me and my fame was of no importance to her. Damn if I didn’t like that. This was something new.

“I enjoy my job,” she replied sharply, then knocked twice on the door to her left.

She didn’t comment on the other, and it was clear no one had ever called her out on her attitude. Probably the way she looked. I was sure she’d gotten her way most of her life. I decided to push her a little more. See if I could make her snap.

“Your mama ever tell you that beauty is only skin deep?” I asked her as I leaned a shoulder against the wall and studied her.

She raised her eyebrows at that question.

A deep, “Come in,” came from the other side of the closed door.

“Did yours ever tell you to mind your own business?” she shot back. Then, a smile appeared on her face as she opened the door and stepped back. “Have a wonderful day, Mr. Finlay.”

I wasn’t ready for this to end. It was entertaining. I was enjoying myself. She would be fun to fuck with. Literally and metaphorically.

“Mr. Finlay!” a voice boomed, and I knew my time with the spunky little minx was over.

I kept my gaze locked on hers as I stepped past her and into the office that had to be at least sixty-five degrees. Looked like this was where the college’s air-conditioning budget was being spent this summer.

“Thank you, Brielle,” he said to the brunette, and she nodded, then closed the door as she left.

Reluctantly, I went into performer mode and turned my attention to the man in front of me. “Please, call me Dean.”

The man’s face beamed at me. It was a look I was used to. The one I’d expected. The one that Brielle hadn’t given me. Not even once.

two

brielle

Silence. It wasn’t something I was used to. Now, the moment I came home from work, I was surrounded by it. It sank in, and my chest ached. The deep kind of ache that made it slightly hard to breathe. Life was changing, and this was just the beginning. If I was struggling already, then how would I handle the day I watched him drive away in a car without me? Or the day I would have to drive away, leaving him at whatever college he chose?

I forced a deep breath in and sank down onto the kitchen chair closest to me. Placing a hand over my heart, I gave myself a moment to snap out of it. Cam had just left for camp for six weeks. He had worked so hard to help me pay for it. This had been his dream all year, and he was getting it. I should be happy about this. Music camp was all he’d talked about this past year. Last August, his music teacher at school had mentioned that Cam would benefit from it, and Cam had been determined that he’d get there.

“You are more than Cam’s mother, Brielle. You’re a strong, independent woman who has a good job and needs to accept that your son is growing up. You need a life too,” I said aloud to myself. I just wasn’t sure I was listening to me.

Sighing, I stood back up and walked over to the fridge. “You also do not need to eat chocolate ice cream, sit on your butt, and watch Netflix. You need to go for a run. Organize the hall closet. Read one of the books you bought that are piled up, unread, beside your bed,” I told myself while reaching into the freezer for the ice cream.

I wasn’t in the mood to listen to myself tonight. This morning, I had put Cam on a bus, headed for camp two hundred thirty-six miles away from me. I needed this ice cream. And possibly an entire bottle of wine. I had never been away from Cam that long. He had never stayed away from me for more than a night before, and even then, it was just at a friend’s house.

Then, add to it the fact that he had begged me for one thing before he left: to get Dean Finlay’s autograph. Dean Finlay had been his idol from the moment Cam fell in love with the drums. Slacker Demon had once been my favorite band, but life had happened, and I had changed. It would figure my son would idolize Dean Finlay. I’d been prepared to get his autograph for Cam today, but then the arrogant ass had opened his mouth. I’d failed Cam, but he needed a new hero. The one he had sucked.

Slipping off my high heels, I kicked them toward the door and took my ice cream to the living room. There was a new season of Sea Breeze streaming, and I was going to watch it while I ate my feelings. Just before I sank down onto the sofa, my iPhone started ringing. I looked back toward the kitchen. I’d left it on the table. Normally, I would ignore it, but not with Cam gone. There might be an emergency.

The idea that he might need me had me running back to the kitchen to jerk my phone off the faded blue Formica table I’d bought three years ago at a consignment store.

Clara, my best friend’s, name lit up the screen. She knew Cam had left this morning, and this was her check-in call. Unlike me, Clara lived like most twenty-eight-year-old single females that I knew. For example, she got regular manicures, went shopping for clothing, and went on dates.

If I didn’t answer her, she’d be over here in less than twenty minutes, bringing her bubbly personality inside my apartment. I needed to wallow alone, so I decided to answer.

“Hello?” I said, putting the phone to my ear and turning to walk back to the living room.

“Okay, hear me out,” she began, which meant she was about to suggest something I did not want to do. “I can come over and help you get all fixed up, and then we’ll go out to Chandelier tonight. You never go to the clubs with me, and I get it because you want to be home for Cam, even when he is staying the night at a friend’s, but whatever. Tonight, you need to get your sexy ass out of that apartment and go have fun. Meet a guy. Or guys. The sky is the limit!”

I scooped my spoon into the ice cream, waiting to see if she was going to keep talking. After a moment of silence, I knew it was my turn to speak. “It’s been a long day,” I said, and Clara groaned on the other end of the line. “It has been. I’m emotionally spent. Work was …” I paused because telling her about my very negative experience with Dean Finlay would have her freaking out. She was a huge Slacker Demon fan. Her past and mine were not the same. “It sucked, and then of course, Cam is gone. I just need a night to adjust.”

“So, you’re saying, tomorrow night, you’ll go out with me?” She jumped on that quick, and I knew she wasn’t going to let it go.

“Yeah, maybe,” I replied, not really meaning it.

“You can’t bullshit me. You know that. You’re going out with me tomorrow. I can’t remember the last time you even went on a date, Brielle. It’s been years. Literally years! What was his name, Jonah or Noah? I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter. You just went out with him twice. It is time to live. Put yourself out there. Have some fun this summer. Hot girl summer!”

I rolled my eyes and stuck the spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. She made it all sound so fun. Didn’t she know how much fun ice cream and binge-watching my favorite TV drama was? Probably not. Clara was my opposite, and she was also the reason we were friends. When she was set on something, she grabbed hold and didn’t let go. For some reason, eight years ago, that something she’d latched on to was me. I had needed family, and she had become just that.

“Okay, I’ll go tomorrow night, but don’t push it. Hot girl summer sounds exhausting and annoying. I like my life, Clara. I don’t need a man. I have Cam.”

Clara sighed dramatically. “Cam is your son. And you’re the best mom I know, but, Brielle, you have got to get a life. Cam is growing up. He’s going to start wanting to do things without you. When that happens, you’re gonna fall apart because you forgot how to be you. Find yourself. You are more than Cam’s mom.”

I opened my mouth to argue that I was aware of that when a loud crash from the hallway outside our apartment got my attention. Standing back up, I walked to the door, not hearing anything Clara was saying. There were voices out there and more banging around.

I debated on the safety of opening the door when a man yelled out, “Not this floor! We are supposed to start at the top!”

My hand wrapped around the doorknob, and I opened the door slowly, peeking out into the rowdy hallway. My neighbors were not loud people. Mrs. Jo lived to the right of us, and she’d be celebrating her seventy-eighth birthday in ten days. I was going to make her a cake, like I always did. Damar and Jim lived across the hallway from me. They worked long hours and were rarely home. I probably wouldn’t see them until Mrs. Jo’s birthday.

Brown eyes with thick, long lashes—which should have made his eyes appear feminine, but somehow did not—locked with mine, and I froze. The door was only halfway open, and Clara’s voice in my ear, calling my name, reminded me she was there.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. There was noise outside in the hallway. Can I call you back?” I replied.

“Noise? What kind of noise? Are you okay? Do I need to call the police?” she asked, her voice growing more panicked by the second.

“No. It’s fine. Looks like maintenance or something. I’ll call you back,” I repeated, then ended the call before she could ask more questions.

My curiosity was stronger than my appreciation for a man with great lashes, I realized, as I moved my gaze from his and took in the rest of the situation. A redheaded man with a matching beard stood, holding a ladder with a scowl on his face.

“Why does it matter which floor we start on? This damn ladder is a bitch to carry up the stairs,” the red-haired man said.

“It matters to the man writing our paycheck. I’ll carry the ladder. But these cans of paint aren’t much lighter,” Brown Eyes replied.

“At least they aren’t fucking bulky,” the man said, dropping the ladder to the ground with a sigh of relief.

“The crew putting down the hardwood flooring and marble tiles is up there now. We should have been there first. Come on,” Brown Eyes said, his voice laced with frustration. He glanced back at me. “Sorry if we disturbed you.”

“I didn’t realize there were updates being done to the building,” I said, thinking that the owner should have sent out a memo to the residents. And who the heck was getting marble tiled flooring?

“Just the penthouse floor at the moment. Once it is finished, the entry, elevators, and outdoor structure will be updated,” he told me.

“Wow,” I muttered, wondering what had brought this on.

Mr. Halston was almost eighty years old. He owned this apartment building along with four others in town, a few service stations, a grocery store or two, and the post office building. He never did updates, but this was a newer building and in the nicest part of town. I had chosen it so that Cam could attend the schools in this area. They were the best I could offer him.

“New owner is turning this building into something real nice. Fancy and shit,” the red-haired guy informed me.

“New owner?” I asked, confused. How did I not know the building had a new owner?

“Yeah, Halston sold it. Fucking shocker. That old man holds on to everything,” the guy added.

The door next to mine opened, and Mrs. Jo stepped out into the hallway, frowning. “What’s all the commotion out here? I can’t hear my show on the telly-vision,” she barked out, then looked over at me. “Brielle, honey, how are you? Did Cam get off to camp okay? I was gonna make you a cherry delight pie to cheer you up, but I forgot to go to the store today.”

Both men started moving again toward the staircase. I glanced at them briefly, wondering who had bought the place and deciding I would Google it when I went back inside my apartment.

“Looks like the top floor is getting a revamp,” I told her. “And I am fine. No need to worry about the pie. Without Cam here to help me eat it, I’d gain ten pounds,” I told her with a smile.

She shook her head and pointed her finger at me. “You wouldn’t do such a thing. You’re too tiny as it is. Men like their women to have some meat on their bones. At least, they did in my day. Curves. We all wanted curves and chocolate. Life was good back then,” she mused, then turned and walked back into her apartment and closed the door.

I had no doubt, tomorrow, I’d have a pie waiting on me when I got home from work.

three

dean

“You could have bought a house,” Rush, my son, said as he stood inside my new penthouse.

“I have a house,” I replied, reaching into the fridge to get out two beers.

“It’s in LA. You could have bought one here.”

I handed him the beer. “I live alone. I don’t need a damn house here. This place has three bedrooms, a sauna, Jacuzzi, and a view.”

Rush chuckled. “Yeah, after you completely renovated it. Whatever, Dad.”

“What? It’s a great building, and it needs some work. Gives me something to do. I got this place so I could be close to my family. The kids are growing up, and I want to be here for it, but I need a fucking life too. This is a project. It’ll keep me busy.”

Rush smirked. “For now.”

I walked over to the white leather sectional and sank down on it, then propped my feet up on the ottoman. “When this is finished, I’ll find a new project,” I replied.

Rush took a long pull from his bottle, then leveled his gaze on me. “That’s not what I meant. Kiro will get bored and want to tour again, and then you’ll be back on the road.”

That was always a possibility, but this time, I wasn’t so sure. Kiro seemed done. When he wasn’t living his rock-star life, he was in Rosemary Beach, visiting his daughter and granddaughter. Even if he did want to tour again, this was where I would be for now.

I shrugged. “Who knows? We might do a few concerts here and there, but I think we might be done with the road.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Rush drawled.

I wasn’t going to argue. He’d seen it all in his lifetime. I wasn’t sure what the future held for Slacker Demon, but it no longer controlled me. The fame, women, music—it had all gotten old. I wanted more than that life.

“Have you met your tenants?” Rush asked with an amused tone.

I shook my head. “No.”

I’d thought about it, then changed my mind. They’d eventually know I was living up here. I couldn’t keep that hidden long. Even with my private entrance and garage, they would see me.

“You can’t hide the fact that you’re living up here. It’ll get out.”

“I know.”

“You should have bought a place in Rosemary Beach. They’re used to celebrities. You wouldn’t have been bothered.”

Rush lived in Rosemary Beach and had since he was a kid. I’d bought him a house there and allowed his mother to live in it with his half-sister until Rush was old enough to decide if they stayed or went. It was a small, elite coastal town, and I was glad my grandkids were growing up there, but I didn’t want to be there. Not that close. I wanted to be a part of their lives, but not completely embedded. They needed their space, and I needed mine.

“I like it here. Always have. It’s bigger than Rosemary Beach, but not too big. It’s also closer to the airport.”

I started to say more when Rush’s phone rang, and he glanced down at it before answering.

“Hey,” he said, standing back up and walking toward the table, where he had dropped his keys. “I’m at Dad’s new place, but I am leaving now. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. I love you.”

I glanced over at him, already knowing that was his wife, Blaire. “Everything okay?”

Rush paused at the door. “Yeah. Nate punched some kid at the country club.”

I grinned. “What’d the kid do?”

Rush shook his head. “Blaire said the kid called Lila Kate a name or some shit. I don’t know. I just have to go help her deal with it.”

Lila Kate was Kiro’s granddaughter. The one he adored. Nate and Lila Kate were growing up together in Rosemary Beach, like family.

I held up a hand to wave but didn’t get up. “Don’t be too hard on my grandson. He acts just like his father did.”

Rush let out a short laugh. “Bye, Dad.”

“Bye,” I called back and took another drink of my beer.

The silence came once he was gone, and I sat there in it. This was new to me and uncomfortable at times—most of the time. I had never been alone much. My life had been filled with the guys in the band. I’d always lived with Kiro in the mansion we owned in Beverly Hills. When your life had been full of noise and people, you weren’t good with solitude.

I spent the next ten minutes trying to balance my beer bottle on my knee. Once I achieved success with that, I stood up and walked over to the window. The pool here needed work. A complete overhaul. I had been meeting with a contractor about putting in a rock waterfall and slide, but maybe I should have it completely taken out and made bigger. Add more flash to it. Something my grandkids would enjoy.

With that thought in mind, I decided to head down there. I grabbed a black baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. If I kept my head down, this normally disguised me enough. I could get to the pool from my private elevator that led to my own garage, but it was a long-ass walk around the outside to the gate. So, instead, when I went out my door, I made my way to the main elevator in the building to use it for the first time since I had moved in.

The fresh paint looked good along with the new mirrors in the elevator. Gave it some depth. The elevator didn’t stop at any of the other floors, and I sighed in relief when it came to the bottom floor and no one was waiting on the other side. It was harder to stay unnoticed if you were face-to-face with someone.

I only passed some of the landscapers I’d hired, working on the palm trees I’d ordered to line the walkway toward the pool area. One of them noticed me and nodded, but said nothing. I lifted my chin in a silent greeting and continued until I was at the white gate that surrounded the pool. Stepping inside, I took in the facility. I’d seen it already once when I made an offer to purchase the building. I had known then that it was going to need work.

The only upgrade that I had made so far was replacing the cheap plastic loungers with teak loungers that had built-in cupholders on the armrests and cushioning to lie on. I didn’t make eye contact with anyone as I looked over the recliners not in use. My gaze, however, betrayed me when it came across a smooth, round, tanned ass, barely covered by a hot-pink bikini. I took in the legs, slim ankles, and dainty feet before letting my gaze move up over the bare back. Twice, I had to give in and look at the ass again before making my way up to see dark brown hair piled on top of her head.

A kid screamed and splashed water in my direction, interrupting me as I was memorizing the view for my spank bank. It drew my attention away from the woman, but only long enough for me to take off my sunglasses and dry them. When I shifted my gaze back to her, she was no longer on her stomach, but was sitting up and gathering her things. Her cell phone was pressed to her ear as she smiled, listening to whoever she was talking to.

She stood up and pushed her sunglasses back up onto her head as she began searching for something, and a smile slowly stretched across my face. It was her. The office girl from last week. The one at the college. Her name was … Brielle.

I stood there, watching her behind my dark sunglasses, waiting until the moment she noticed me. The conversation she was having on the phone had all of her attention. She began walking toward the gate to leave, not once glancing in my direction. I took a step back, blocking her path. She stopped then and lifted her gaze to mine. Annoyance clear in her frown.

It took her a moment. My sunglasses and baseball cap worked well if someone wasn’t looking for me or expecting me. However, I had hopes she would remember me enough from last week to see past the semi-disguise. I saw it in her eyes when it dawned on her who I was.

A myriad of emotions flashed across her face before settling on what I would call unsure and confused. Her eyes cut to look over the rest of the residents in the pool area to see if anyone was looking in this direction before swinging back to me.

“What are you doing here?” she asked me.

“What are you doing here?” I replied.

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she said through clenched teeth, “I live here.”

Then, I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I had already deduced she was probably a resident, but there was always a chance she was visiting someone and using the pool here. Knowing she lived in my building was too fucking funny.

“Do you find that amusing?” she asked, then tilted her head to the side and glared up at me. “You don’t live here. Why are you—” Then, she stopped, and her eyes widened. That full bottom lip of hers dropped down as a gasp came out of her. “No,” she breathed, then closed her eyes tightly and muttered something under her breath that I didn’t quite catch.

I watched her, completely entertained by her reaction. “I’m going to assume you figured out on your own why I’m here,” I drawled, crossing my arms over my chest, unable to stop smirking.

“You,” she said. “You bought this place?”

I nodded.

“Why? Don’t you have a …” She paused and glanced around again, then whispered, “A mansion in Beverly Hills or something?”

She knew where I lived. I was impressed.

“If you know that, then you probably know I have a son who lives in Rosemary Beach. Grandkids too.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, but this isn’t Rosemary Beach.”

“How do you like the pool?” I asked her instead. “Needs a makeover, don’t you think?”

She stared at me, saying nothing. I would admit, I had been bored before coming down here and finding her. I enjoyed seeing her annoyance with me. She was interesting, and although I was done fucking women her age, that didn’t mean I couldn’t talk to her.

“The pool is fine as it is,” she said.

“But you like the new lounge chairs,” I said, knowing she would be lying if she said no.

“Yes, I do like those,” she acknowledged, but the sour look on her face made it clear she hated to say so.

“How’s Cam?” I asked her, surprised that I had remembered the name of the poor guy she controlled with her magic vagina.

“He’s fine,” she snapped. “I need to go,” she added, then stepped around me to leave.

Just like that, she was going to walk away. Had a female ever just walked away from me when I was talking to her?

My gaze followed her as she left, and when she glanced back at me before opening the gate, I winked. Brielle had just shown a small crack in her annoyed attitude by looking back. She wasn’t completely immune to me. Even if she wished like hell she were.

four

brielle

Slamming my door with more force than necessary, I tossed my bag down on the floor and growled in frustration. He was an asshole, a jerk, and he just kept showing up in my life and reminding me of all those things. What had I done wrong for the cosmos to drop him not only into my building, but also as the new owner of my freaking building?

This did not matter. I would rarely see him. I doubted he was going to just walk through the place. He had obviously been trying to hide his identity down at the pool. As if people wouldn’t notice a man wearing ripped jeans and black snakeskin boots by a pool in Florida during the summer. Not to mention, his unbuttoned black shirt that was showing off his tattoos. He was going to stand out.

“God help me if Clara finds out,” I mumbled aloud.

She would never leave.

A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts, and I turned back around to walk over and answer it. I expected it to be Mrs. Jo since I knew Clara wasn’t coming over and Mrs. Jo was the only other person who visited me. Mostly to drop off something she had baked that I didn’t need to eat.

The brown-eyed construction worker I had passed a few times while he was working outside the past week was standing there. He smiled at me, and his eyes dropped to my chest. I pulled my cover-up, which had fallen open, closed. His eyes snapped back up to my face when he realized he’d been caught.

“Uh, I was just letting you know we are working on your floor this week. Painting, some hammering, but not too much. Shouldn’t be that noisy.”

Another annoyance, compliments of the new landlord. Although a fresh coat of paint wouldn’t hurt. New light fixtures would also be nice. Maybe new paint on the doors too.

I gave him a nod. “Thanks for letting me know,” I replied.

He cleared his throat, then shuffled his feet nervously. “Yeah, uh, and I was wondering … I mean, I’ve noticed you because you’re hard not to notice. I mean, that is, I … would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Or maybe drinks? Coffee? I’m Gavin, by the way.”

Oh. Wow. He was asking me out. Okay, um … did I want to go out with him? He was attractive. He had a good job, it seemed.

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?”

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.”

He then slipped his phone back into his other jeans pocket and lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Maegan got all she needed. Master bedroom is wet, but you probably knew that. You need to pick out a new mattress. We can go now, or if you’d rather, Maegan can take you.”

I shook my head and stood up. “Oh, no, I figured it could air dry. Maybe in the sun on the balcony.”

Dean shook his head. “No. You’re getting a new one.”

I didn’t want to go shop for mattresses with him or Maegan. It wasn’t that I disliked Maegan, but I wasn’t very fond of her. I had no real reason to feel that way. However, I did have reasons to dislike Dean. I might not dislike him as much as I did before but if I understood Kiro’s words earlier then he and Dean had slept with Maegan. Ew.

The line from Hamlet suddenly came to my thoughts. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

And I winced. I wasn’t that girl anymore. Life had changed me. Motherhood had changed me.

“Any mattress will do. I’m not picky. Trust me,” I told him.

I hadn’t slept on a mattress until I was twenty years old. I’d slept on blankets on the floor, I’d slept on hay, I had even slept on bare concrete floors. I could sleep anywhere if I needed to.

“No preference for firmness or softness?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “I’ve slept in places that make any mattress nice.” I hadn’t meant to say that, but I had blurted it out.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” he asked. “Why?”

Nope. We were not going to talk about my past. That was behind me. It was my secret. I had built a new life, and it was all he needed to know.

“Uh, you know, kids, teenagers, they sleep in crazy places,” I said. “Thanks for the soda and a chance to sit down and wait. But if she’s done, I want to get back in there and start drying the floor.”

“It’s already being done. You don’t have to go down there. Contrary to what Kiro said, I do have food in the kitchen. I can make you something to eat.”

No, no, no, no, no. I was not doing this. I was not getting comfortable and friendly with this man. He was smooth and charming when he chose to be, but I’d already figured out that Kiro’s lack of a filter was more accurate to the way Dean’s inner thoughts went. I might not be his type, but I was a female and in his apartment, alone with him. Major warning flag, and I knew it.

“I would feel better if I was there. With my things,” I replied.

Dean nodded his head. “Understood. You can call or text me if you need anything.” He paused, then grinned. “You should have my number now.”

The text from earlier reminded me that he also had my number now. It also reminded me that Clara was supposed to be coming over in an hour. Crap! I had forgotten. I had to call her. I needed to go.

“Yes,” I said, then headed in the direction of the door.

“See you around, Brielle,” he called out just as I opened his door.

I lifted a hand to wave but didn’t look back, then walked out, closing the door behind me. I hoped we saw very little of each other.

This was not something I had planned on ever happening. Life would carry on as usual, and I would change nothing. There was no reason to.

seven

dean

I gave it two days before I texted Brielle. She hadn’t contacted me or even Maegan. I knew her new mattress had been delivered within an hour of her returning to her apartment the day she came up here with me. I’d ordered it myself. One identical to the mattress I slept on, just a full-size to fit her bedframe, unlike my king-size. She hadn’t texted me or called after receiving it. Maegan had said she’d barely been there yesterday, and I assumed she had been at work.

The most frustrating part of it all was, I shouldn’t have given a fuck. She wasn’t what I was looking for, if I was even looking at all. I still hadn’t made up my mind about that. Relationships were sticky, and I had never managed to do one. It seemed like too much damn work. Until the past couple of years. Part of me wanted what Kiro had had with Emily, his late wife. He’d been so fucking happy for a time. Before her accident. Before the joy of life was completely sucked out of him when he lost her.

Was loving like he had loved worth the pain that could follow? I wasn’t sure I could take the gamble. I’d seen him so completely wrapped up in her, and I envied him that connection to another person. Then, I’d been there when he fell apart from the agony of losing her. I didn’t think I could survive that. Harlow was the one thing that had kept him from going under.

No. What I needed was someone closer to my age. A woman. Someone who had lived life and was mature. Someone who I could respect, appreciate, enjoy being near. If I was going to be in a relationship, it would have to be real. There would have to be depth. It could not be with some flighty, cheating twenty-something with a body that made my dick hard. I needed more than a fucking hard dick.

Brielle was simply a tenant and nothing more. I had to start noticing women my age—or at least within fifteen years of my age. I had grandkids, for God’s sake. My son should not be older than my girlfriend.

My phone dinged with a text message alert, and I looked down to see Brielle’s response.

It’s as if there was never any water damage at all. Thank you for handling it.

That was it. Nothing more. As it should be. I slid my phone back into my pocket and started for the private exit of my place when there was a knock at the other door before it opened.

“Dean?” Maegan’s voice called out.

I turned around and walked back to the living room just as she entered it. Today, her skirt was somehow even shorter than yesterday. Soon, her ass was going to be hanging out of the back. I knew she was trying to get my attention. She’d had her sights set on Kiro, but after a few fucks, he’d gotten bored with her. I’d given her the job to get her out of there. Not to fuck her. I was starting to think she had other ideas.

“Hello, Maegan,” I said, and she flashed me a smile that looked more like an invitation than a business smile.

“Good morning, Dean. Can I get you anything?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. I was just about to leave. Is there an issue with the building?” I asked. Reminding her what her job was and why she was here.

She shook her head. “Everything is great. The new furniture is being moved back into Mrs. Jo’s apartment today, and the paint looks fantastic. When I spoke to her, she was very excited about seeing it all.”

I was glad Mrs. Jo was pleased, but if I was being honest, I was more concerned about her neighbor, and that was messed up. I had told myself Brielle was out of the question. Off the table. Too damn young.

“I can make you lunch if you’d like,” she said, taking a step in my direction. “I’m at your full disposal.”

I had no doubt she was. I needed to get the hell out of here. “I’m good. Thanks. I’m heading out. Lock up when you leave. Make sure Brielle McGinnis is also happy with her new furniture.” I couldn’t help myself. I had to know.

Maegan frowned. “She didn’t get new furniture.”

“What?” I asked, my voice sounding harsher than necessary.

“She said hers was fine. That it was dry. I told her to choose anything she wanted, within reason, but she wouldn’t.” Maegan sounded slightly panicked.

“How wet was her furniture?” I asked.

Maegan made a face. “It was pretty wet. Kinda soaked, but she put each piece out on the balcony the past two days and said they all dried up fine.”

“She fit a sofa on the balcony?” I asked, not believing this.

Why is Brielle being stubborn?

“Just the cushions.”

“Dammit,” I muttered and turned to head toward the building elevator.

“Where are you going?” Maegan asked.

“To go check my tenant’s furniture,” I replied.

“But I did that. It’s okay.”

I ignored Maegan and continued to the elevator.

Every second it took to get from my floor to Brielle’s, I grew more annoyed. The furniture had to smell sour. How could she live with that? I had replaced most of Mrs. Jo’s furniture. It wasn’t like I had done it to get in Mrs. Jo’s pants, and I wasn’t replacing Brielle’s to get in her pants either. Jesus, Brielle was so damn obstinate.

The elevator opened, and I took several long strides until I was at Brielle’s door. With a sharp knock, I waited, trying to calm down. I was angry, and I wasn’t sure why. Shit like this normally didn’t bother me. I typically didn’t even get involved and let my handlers deal with it.

I wanted to buy her the damn furniture. It was that fucking simple. Why wouldn’t she let me? Why was she like this?

The door opened, and Brielle stood there, wearing a sleeveless pink knit dress that didn’t even make it to mid-thigh. Her hair was pulled up in another of those messy buns, and she appeared to be slightly sweaty. Her chest seemed damp, and her … fuck me, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Dean?” She said my name as if it were a question, and I reluctantly moved my gaze from her gorgeous tits to her face.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Why did I want to fuck her so bad? Why her? Why not Maegan? Or, hell … I dunno … someone a few years older than my son. Why this girl, who was too young and not at all what I needed?

“You didn’t pick out new furniture,” I said, stalking past her and into the apartment.

“I didn’t need it,” she said behind me.

I walked over to the sofa that had seen better days. It had to be as old as she was. In fact, I was willing to bet it was older than she was.

“Yeah, you do,” I snapped, looking back at her. “You need it fucking bad. You needed it before the water damage. Jesus, Brielle, this sofa is ancient.”

She stiffened then, and I saw her defensive mode take over. “My furniture is fine. It’s comfortable, and we like it.”

We? Who the fuck is we? Cam? The dude she cheated on? How did the date with the construction worker go? Did she enjoy being unfaithful?

“It’s shit,” I replied. “So is the damn coffee table and that chair. Get the new furniture. You need it.”

I didn’t say they needed it because I refused to accept she let a man live here with her. That meant he fucked her and saw her naked. He got to bury his cock in those tits.

“I think you need to go,” she said angrily.

I stalked back toward the door, but I didn’t leave. I closed it. Then, I turned on her and kept on until her back was against the wall. She smelled like vanilla and lavender. I liked it. No, I fucking loved it. Inhaling deeply, I leaned my head down until my mouth touched her ear. I felt her tremble, and that one small move went straight to my damn cock.

“You’re right. I need to go. I need to fucking run out of here,” I said softly in her ear, then ran the tip of my nose along her shoulder. “Being here is a terrible idea. I just wanted you to get the furniture. That’s it. I came in here to make you see that,” I said, lifting my head and looking into her eyes. “But you opened the door, dressed like this. All sweaty and with no fucking bra.” I ran a finger along the neckline of her dress. “Now, all I can think about is ripping the clothes off your body and taking you hard up against this wall. Until you scream my name and shatter against me. And we both know that’s a bad idea.”

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, causing her heavy breasts to bounce slightly. I wanted my hands on them. Her fat nipple in my mouth. God, had I ever wanted to fuck a woman so bad in my life?

“Dean.” She whispered my name, and my cock throbbed in my jeans.

The breathy sound of her voice made me slightly crazy. I could picture it. Her naked and my cock buried inside her. I wanted it and—

Then, the sound of a ringing phone broke the silence. She tensed under me and then pushed me back, hurrying to the cell phone that was lying on the offensive chair I wanted gone.

“Cam,” she answered, sounding happy and nervous.

That was the bucket of cold water I needed. I didn’t listen to her say anything more. I walked to the door, opened it, walked out, and slammed it behind me. Kiro was right. She was a hot piece of ass and nothing more. I could replace her with any other hot piece of ass. I’d never let one mean anything to me before. Why start now? I was fifty-three and set in my ways.

When I walked back into my penthouse, Maegan stepped out of the kitchen, wearing an apron. I hadn’t known I even had a fucking apron.

“I made you lunch. In case you’re hungry,” she said.

“I need to fuck. I don’t want strings or drama. I just need to come,” I replied.

She smiled then. A seductive one. “Where do you want to fuck?”

I stalked past her and grabbed her hand, taking her back into the kitchen.

“Take off your panties,” I ordered.

“I’m not wearing any,” she replied.

I turned her around, looked at her, then down at the short skirt she was wearing. She’d wanted this. To be available. Maybe she had planned on bending over at some point to give me a view. Whatever the reason, I appreciated it in this moment.

“Put your hands on the island,” I ordered.

She did so, sticking out her ass without direction. She knew the score and how to fuck.

I walked up behind her and ran my hands up her bare thighs before jerking the small amount of fabric covering her ass up to her waist. Then, I slapped it hard. As hard as I wanted to slap Brielle’s juicy, tanned ass.

Maegan moaned and wiggled it at me. I slapped the other side, then went back and forth until both cheeks were red and she was panting and groaning.

I reached into the drawer of the island and took out a condom. Maegan didn’t seem surprised I had condoms in here. It was the main reason I had brought her in here. I unzipped my jeans and shoved them down to my knees, then slipped the condom down over my hard shaft. Grabbing her waist, I pulled her back and onto my dick in one hard thrust.

She cried out my name. I knew she was loud during sex. I’d heard her and Kiro going at it more than once. One night, I had even sat back and watched them on the rug in front of the fireplace. She smiled naughtily at me then, as if wanting me to join in. I considered going over and sticking my cock in her mouth, but I didn’t. I’d wanted boundaries.

Today, I didn’t care. I just needed release. I was going to get it too. Right here in this available, willing pussy.

“Harder, Dean! Fuck me harder!” she cried out.

I didn’t want to hear her talk. I just wanted her body.

Reaching around, I covered her mouth, then continued to pound inside of her. Closing my eyes and thinking of dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, looking back at me over her shoulder as I fucked her. Big, heavy tits swaying and bouncing as our bodies collided.

I moved my hand from Maegan’s mouth as she screamed out my name and twitched beneath me in orgasm. Then, I came, but the relief I had hoped for didn’t come too. Just guilt and disgust with myself.

eight

brielle

There was no new furniture or more talk of new furniture. Nothing had shown up, except for the mattress, and I had stopped expecting it.

It had been a week since Dean had come into my apartment, insulting my furniture, then making my panties wet directly afterward. I fell asleep, thinking about the way his voice had sounded in my ear and how he had smelled so completely masculine. It was a very dangerous, slippery slope that I was ready to fall down. In the heat of the moment, nothing else mattered. It should have. It should have mattered a lot.

Then, Cam called.

Dean left.

There had been no texts, calls, or glimpses of him since then.

This was a good thing. It was what needed to happen. I was glad he had put distance between us. It needed to stay that way. I knew this. But in my dreams, I often forgot all that.

Damn him and his sexy, dark, tempting voice. I continued icing Mrs. Jo’s cake with little rose flowers I had learned to make from a YouTube video. I had other things to do than think about Dean Finlay all the time.

Gavin had called and asked me out again. I’d had to cancel our last date because of the water damage and just not being in the mood to go out. He had asked if we could try again next week and offered to help with anything in my apartment that might need his expertise.

I should have let him come over and help me move the entire sofa frame onto the balcony to dry in the sun. Because it was starting to smell bad. I had bought it years ago at a secondhand shop for twenty-five dollars. It was more than I could afford, but I also needed somewhere to sleep. The single bed Cam and I had been sharing was getting too small for both of us. He was almost six, and I had wanted him to have his own bed. Something I had never had as a child.

Now, there was a good chance the wooden frame was rotten and wouldn’t hold up much longer. I could afford another used sofa, but admitting that would mean Dean was right. I just didn’t want him to be right. Maybe I was being stubborn, but I wanted to be right.

The cake was complete, and although it wasn’t professional, I thought it’d turned out pretty. I reached for the bag of party items I’d bought for Mrs. Jo’s party to find the candles. While I was placing the number seven candle and the number eight candle on the cake, I realized that my getting to celebrate with her was thanks to Dean. He’d expedited getting her moved back in. She had so much new furniture, and she was thrilled with it all. She’d shown me around the place with pride the day she moved back in. He had even replaced her old light fixture in the living room with a ceiling fan. The way she talked about Dean, you’d think he’d invented the wheel.

A knock on my door was followed by the sound of a key in the lock. I glanced over my shoulder to see Clara, who I had been expecting. She was wearing a short white leather miniskirt and a yellow crop top. I envied her the ability to wear tops like that. Smaller boobs were just so much easier. You could wear all the stylish tops, and you looked thinner.

“If you ever want to quit the college, you could go into cake decorating,” she said as she looked at the cake. “That’s gorgeous.”

“Thanks, but I think I will keep my day job,” I replied.

Clara couldn’t toast bread without burning it. She was easily impressed. I could have put peanut butter on toast and then placed a marshmallow on top with a candle sticking out, and she’d have thought it was great.

“Probably best. It comes with health insurance,” she agreed, then grinned at me. “So, tell me, are you going out with Gavin or not? Did you decide?”

Ever since I had told Clara about Gavin, she’d been driving me nuts, pushing me to go on a date. It was as if it were her life mission to get me laid this summer. She thought sex fixed everything. Maybe for her, it did, but I didn’t see it that way. Sex complicated things. It made people act differently. I was perfectly content with my vibrator and memories of Dean Finlay pushing me against a wall. That was something I’d never admit though. Admitting it would mean I was an idiot. No, I was an idiot for getting off, thinking about the man. Admitting it would be sharing my idiocy with others.

“He wants to go out tomorrow night. I think I’m going to go,” I told her instead.

She threw her arms in the air and yelled, “Score!” as if this were a football game and she were still a cheerleader.

I shook my head and handed her the bag of things for Mrs. Jo’s party. “Take this, and let’s get going. Damar and Jim are coming home early from the office to join us. I don’t want them to beat us there.”

“I’m so jealous of Jim. Damar is so hot. Why, oh why does he have to bat for the other team?”

I rolled my eyes and headed for the door with the cake. “Don’t flirt with him, please. It makes them both uncomfortable.”

Clara shrugged. “Fine. I’ll leave him alone. He doesn’t know what he is missing though.”

“Yes, he does. Remember, he was married to a woman for two years in college. He isn’t interested in what’s between your legs.”

“He was just trying out the wrong vagina,” Clara said. “That’s all.”

“Gross. Please shut up now and be normal,” I told her.

“Normal is not fun. How many times do I have to tell you that?” she replied and jerked open my apartment door with way more energy than necessary.

I followed her out of it, and then she closed and locked it behind us. We were at Mrs. Jo’s door when it swung open, and Mrs. Jo stood in a bright pink dress, covered in roses. She’d even curled her hair. One of the curlers was still in the back. I could see it poking out behind her neck. I doubted she knew that. I’d fix it for her before anyone else arrived.

“Happy birthday!” I exclaimed, and she clapped her hands together as she took in the cake.

“It’s beautiful! I’ve never had a cake so lovely!” she said happily.

“Last year’s cake tasted good, but you’re right, Mrs. Jo; this one is beautiful. Definitely makes up for the way last year’s looked,” Clara said, walking inside, then placing a kiss on Mrs. Jo’s cheek.

I was forever going to be teased about my attempt at making a cake in the shape of a rose. I had seen it on Pinterest and was so sure I could do it. In the end, the unanimous decision had been that it looked more like a penis and ball sack.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Jo. “Every woman needs a penis cake once in her life. God knows a real penis doesn’t taste good.” She grimaced. “Nasty things.”

Clara threw back her head and laughed.

“I, myself, like the taste of penis, but I’ll agree that the cake penis was a delicious one,” Damar said from the doorway.

Mrs. Jo began to laugh and then went to hug both men. Jim was carrying a small Tiffany Blue gift bag, and I knew it had a piece of jewelry that would delight Mrs. Jo. She made them pies and cookies all year, but in return, they bought her the best birthday gifts. I wished I’d had money to do the same, but the best I could do was make the cake and get the party supplies.

“Look at this place,” Jim said as he walked inside. “Damn, I wish the sprinkler had gone off in our apartment,” he added.

Mrs. Jo beamed with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful? Go sit on that sofa. It is the softest thing I’ve ever sat on. I could sleep there all night and not even ache the next morning.”

A very tiny part of me had sofa envy now that mine was likely on its last leg. And the smell was not going away. But I’d made my stance about not needing replacement furniture, and I had to stick with it.

I reached into the party bag and pulled out the hats I’d bought, then passed them around to everyone before placing one on my head. I had bought a paper tiara for Mrs. Jo, and I went to put it on her head. I pulled the last roller from her hair and winked at her, then tucked it in my pocket to put away later.

“What’s your new furniture look like, Brielle?” Damar asked.

“She didn’t get any,” Clara answered for me, then rolled her eyes. “She’s stubborn as fuck.”

“I do hate that word, Clara,” Mrs. Jo reminded her.

Clara apologized, and then Damar turned his gaze to me.

“You didn’t take the new furniture? But, honey, your stuff is … well …”

“It’s old and gross,” Clara finished for him.

“It is not gross,” I defended my furniture. Although it was a little gross. The sofa frame at least.

“That stuff has seen better days, love,” Jim said with more gentleness than Clara.

He was right, but I wasn’t going to agree with him. Instead, I got out the party horns and handed them out. Everyone took one while they continued to talk about the new furniture and paint color that Mrs. Jo had chosen. It was brighter and happier-looking in here than it had been before.

There was a knock on the door, and Damar looked at me.

“That can’t be the food. I just ordered it. Who else are we expecting?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No one.”

Mrs. Jo moved past us and toward the door. “It’s my birthday. One never knows what will appear at the door.”

She swung it open without checking through the peephole first. Something she was normally very vigilant about.

Dean stood there with a vase full of the brightest pink roses I had ever seen.

Mrs. Jo squealed like a young girl and reached for them. After that, a series of events began to quickly take place.

Clara gripped my arm so tightly that her nails dug into my skin as she chanted, “Oh my God,” over and over.

Damar stood in silent shock, and Jim slapped his hand over his mouth after shouting, “Holy hell!”

I stood where I was, saying nothing. Except wincing from the pain that was being inflicted on my arm at the moment. However, I didn’t say anything to her about it. The pain was keeping me centered. Because Dean was standing there with flowers for Mrs. Jo, and they must have cost a fortune. It was sweet. It was kind. It was thoughtful. He wasn’t supposed to be any of those things. Dean Finlay was arrogant, self-absorbed, and used to getting whatever he wanted. This, this … gesture was not what I’d expected of him.

“Come in, come in. Meet everyone. Well, except Brielle. You know her,” Mrs. Jo told him, seemingly oblivious to the starstruck people in the room. “We have plenty of cake. Brielle made a lovely one. Last year’s looked like a penis, so we are very impressed with how far her cake-decorating ability has come in one year.”

I closed my eyes, wishing she hadn’t brought that up. When I opened them back up, Dean was looking at me with amusement in his eyes. Damn penis cake was never going away.

“I’ve never had a penis cake,” he said to me.

“It was meant to be a rose, but it was a Pinterest fail,” I said, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

“I’m going to need an explanation,” Damar said finally. “Dean Finlay is in this apartment. Not only does Mrs. Jo know him, but so do you?” he asked, looking at me.

Mrs. Jo walked toward the kitchen to set the roses in the center of her table, ignoring the questions. So, everyone’s gaze swung to me.

“I, uh, well …” I looked at Dean.

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to tell them he owned the building and was currently living in the penthouse. Was that a secret? He’d been very visible the day of the fire, but he’d gone back into hiding, it seemed.

“I own the building.” He held out his hand to Damar.

Damar shook his hand as he stared at him in awe. “Damar Helter. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Finlay,” he said.

“Just Dean,” he replied.

Then, he moved on to Jim, who I was worried wasn’t going to be able to speak. He seemed too nervous, but he managed to introduce himself.

Clara could wait no longer and was up and over to Dean in seconds. Her back was to me, but I already knew she was flashing him her man magnet smile. I would also get a tongue-lashing for not telling her about his living in the penthouse sooner. Especially since it was clear I knew him already.

I didn’t want to watch Clara lure in Dean. She’d do it easily enough. I had faith in her abilities. So, I turned and headed into the kitchen with Mrs. Jo. She was fussing with her roses and smiling brightly. When she saw me, she beamed brighter.

“Did you give Dean a party hat?” she asked, as if that were something he would actually put on his head.

“He’s Dean Finlay,” I said, as if that explained everything.

Mrs. Jo shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he wants to be left out.”

I wasn’t going to argue this with her. I just let it go.

Making myself busy with getting the party plates and the plastic forks I had brought, I almost didn’t think about Clara in the other room, flirting with Dean. Almost.

He was definitely her type. She liked them rich and older. Dean would be her holy grail. The thought made my stomach twist, and I didn’t want to feel anything at all when it came to him. I heard Clara laugh. It was her sexy come and get me laugh. She was my best friend, but the sound made me roll my eyes.

Yep, I needed to go on that date with Gavin. If I could get another man in my head, that would be great.

Mrs. Jo took a party hat from the bag and walked back to the living room with it. The idea of Dean wearing the hat made me smile, even as Clara laughed again. I didn’t think Dean was particularly funny. Why was she laughing so much?

I turned to walk to the fridge to get out the sweet tea I knew was in there. Dean was standing in the doorway, watching me. I was surprised he was alone and that Clara wasn’t hanging on his arm. The party hat sat proudly on his head, and this time, I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. Clara’s laughter now made sense.

“What?” he asked me with a crooked grin on his face. “Not a good look for me?”

I managed to stifle my giggle and shook my head. “No. I think it works on you.”

He smirked then. “Of course it does.”

I studied him a minute, then looked at the roses. “How did you know about her love for pink roses?” I asked him.

“I asked her.”

I swung my gaze back to his. “You asked her?” I repeated, letting that sink in.

I had this image of Dean Finlay in my head. One I’d had for a very long time. When Dean did things like this, it made it more difficult for me to hold on to that image.

“Of course I did. She mentioned how happy she was to be moved in before her birthday and that you always made her a cake and threw her a party. She invited me to the party, and I said I’d come only if she told me her favorite flower.”

Mrs. Jo had known he was coming. That sneak hadn’t said a word.

“They’re stunning roses. I’ve never seen any that shade of pink before,” I told him.

He shrugged. “Being me has its advantages.”

I was sure it had all the advantages.

“There you are,” Clara said brightly as she brushed by Dean and entered the kitchen.

She was beaming her gorgeous pearly-white smile, and I wasn’t sure if it was me she was talking to or Dean. My guess was Dean, but she had wanted it to seem as if she had been looking to find me.

The doorbell rang, and I had my excuse to get away from Clara’s next flirtation with Dean.

“That is probably the Thai food,” I said and stepped around Dean to head to the door.

Damar and Jim always paid for the Thai food, and I made the cake every year. However, I wanted to get out of the kitchen, and this was my chance.

Damar was already at the door, paying the delivery boy for the food, while Jim headed toward me with the bags.

Great, we’re going back to the kitchen now. I just got away from those two.

“God, I love the way this smells. Damar never wants to order Thai. This is the one time of year I get to have pad Thai, and I relish every moment,” Jim said.

I forced a smile and waited until he was past me, almost to the kitchen, before turning back around to go help set up the table. When I entered the room, Clara was all but pressed up against Dean, leaning into him and batting her long lashes up at him as he spoke.

Yeah, tonight was going to be a blast.

nine

dean

They were a family. It was clear by the way they spoke to each other, in their smiles, the sound of their laughter, and how they truly cared about each other’s lives. In the center of this family was their core—Brielle. She had been the one to set up the food, get everyone’s drinks, cut the cake, and serve them all.

I was fucking fascinated with her. Every move she made. Nothing about her was like other young women I had dated. Clara was the kind of female I was done with and no longer had any desire to waste my time on. Brielle should be too. She wasn’t twenty-five. She was twenty-eight. Her birthday was in November, and Damar was already planning her party, which he and Jim were going to throw at their apartment.

Otherwise, there was little talk about Brielle’s life. Damar spoke about the internet dating app they had invented. Clara talked about the concerts she’d been to, mentioning Slacker Demon more than once. Mrs. Jo talked about Andrew and his newest boyfriend. Everyone seemed relieved that Andrew had broken up with his last boyfriend, agreeing he’d been controlling.

I listened, waiting to hear more about Brielle. When she finally stood up and began cleaning the table, I waited to see who would help her. Clara moved her chair closer to mine and asked me what I was doing tonight. Not once did she glance in Brielle’s way to see if she needed help. Mrs. Jo and Damar were in deep conversation about the yoga class that was now being held in the park at sunrise. Jim had stepped out of the room to take a phone call.

I moved my chair back and stood up. I didn’t respond to Clara’s question, but I took my plate and the other empty items on the table, then walked over to the sink, where Brielle stood, filling the left side of the sink with soapy water.

“You wash; I’ll rinse and dry,” I told her.

Her eyes snapped up to meet mine, and I saw a touch of surprise there. Then, she narrowed them slightly. “You know how to do that?” she asked.

I shrugged and played along. “I’m sure if I get confused, you could help me.”

A small smile lifted the corners of her lips, and I wanted to run my finger over them. They were plump and always pink. Even after eating and drinking, they remained a pretty pink without the aid of lipstick or gloss.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “I’m sure they would rather talk with you.”

“But I’d rather help you,” I replied.

A blush stained her cheeks. “Okay,” she whispered, then turned her attention back to the sink.

I watched her as she began to wash the knife she’d cut the cake with. I liked the red polish on her nails. It was bold and sexy.

Damar, Jim, and Mrs. Jo moved from the kitchen to the living room. Part of me wanted to be alone with Brielle again, and another part wasn’t sure I could make the right choices if I were.

“Mrs. Jo’s furniture looks nice,” she said to me as she handed me the knife.

I took it from her. “You, too, could have nice, new furniture,” I reminded her.

She dropped her gaze back to the water. “Yeah,” was all she said.

I studied her and waited, thinking she was going to say more. She washed two more cups and handed them to me in silence.

“Have you changed your mind about the furniture?” I asked her.

She sighed then but didn’t look up at me. “No. It’s fine.”

“Her sofa is in awful shape. It even smells. She’s not going to tell you that though. She’s too proud, but the water damage did not do her any favors.” Clara’s voice came from behind us.

Brielle spun around and glared at the other woman. “It’s fine, Clara,” she snapped.

Clara rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip, then looked at me. “No, it isn’t. She bought it years ago at a secondhand store. The sprinklers going off put that thing over the edge of bad shape to just gross.”

My gut tightened. I watched as Brielle’s cheeks burned a bright pink, and I could tell she was embarrassed. As much as I needed this information, I also wanted Clara to shut up. She was upsetting Brielle.

“You finish the dishes,” Brielle said to her as she dried off her hands. “I need to go. Cam is supposed to call in a few minutes. I should get back to my apartment.”

Fucking Cam. He hadn’t been mentioned all evening. But Clara didn’t argue with her. She simply took her place, and Brielle glanced up at me with a small smile before leaving the kitchen.

“If you want me to, I can pick out a sofa that she’d like and make her accept it. I have a key to her apartment. You can move out that piece of shit she has now and move in the new one while she’s at work,” Clara offered.

I thought about her suggestion a moment. Brielle would be furious, but this was her best friend. She would know how to get through to Brielle.

“How long have you known her?” I asked Clara.

She paused and pressed her lips together. “Uh … let me think … it’s been eight years now,” she said. “We weren’t even legal drinking age when we became friends.”

“Did you meet in college?” I asked, wanting to know more about Brielle.

She kept surprising me. I knew so little about her, and she didn’t offer much up. It was clear that she didn’t want me to know her.

Clara shook her head. “No, I was at a religious private college. It was the only college my parents would pay for, and Brielle was at the junior college she works at now. My mom insisted I get a job. I was so angry about it, but then I met Brielle. It was the best thing my mom ever did for me.”

“You met her at work?” I asked to clarify.

Clara nodded. “Yep.”

“Where did you both work?” I asked.

“A boutique called Luxe. Brielle was the manager there, and she hired me. Candace, the owner, trusted her with everything. Candace dated the president of the junior college for a time; she’s the reason Brielle got the job there. As much as Candace loved having her as an employee, she wanted more for Brielle, and the college could give her health insurance and pay her more.”

Clara handed me the last dish in the sink and let the soapy water out, then turned to look at me as I rinsed it and dried it. When I was finished, I met her gaze and realized the flirty twinkle in her eyes was gone. She looked serious.

“Brielle is special. I don’t care who you are; I’ll hurt you if you hurt her,” Clara informed me.

“I’m almost twice her age. I don’t intend to do anything to her,” I replied, not sure if I believed my own words.

There was a good chance I would have done quite a bit to her had Cam not called last week when we were in her apartment. I’d been real close to doing more.

Clara raised her left eyebrow. “Like hell you don’t. You can’t stay away from her. You hung on every word she said. I don’t blame you. If I were into women, I’d have claimed her and put a ring on it by now. But under all that tough exterior, she has a lot of past pain and hurt. Cam is what saved her.”

There was that damn name again. A man I had yet to see around, but when people spoke of him, they acted as if he were some fucking hero. Brielle wasn’t that damn perfect. She’d cheated on Cam. Did her fan club know that?

I was letting a hot piece of ass that had some good qualities cloud my judgment. Sure, Brielle was a good friend and thoughtful, but she wasn’t innocent. She did shit like the rest of us. She should think of being as thoughtful to her boyfriend as she was to the rest of the people in her life.

“Maybe someone should worry more about Cam getting hurt,” I said before I could stop myself.

Clara frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

This wasn’t my business. Brielle hadn’t done anything to me. I didn’t need to butt in on her personal shit. Just because I kept getting a hard-on for her didn’t mean I could get nasty and share her dirty laundry.

I just shook my head. “Nothing.”

“Oh no. You don’t get to talk about Cam and not explain,” she said, her tone slightly angry.

What was wrong with her? Damn women were fucking confusing.

“I don’t know what kind of relationship she has with Cam. I can’t say because I’ve never even seen the man with her. This isn’t my business.”

Clara stood there in silence for several moments, and I turned to leave, not wanting to get hammered with more questioning. Thankfully, she let me go without any more annoyance. Mrs. Jo was hugging Damar, then Jim, thanking them for their present as they stood at the open door to her apartment.

Brielle was gone. I was ready to leave too.

The silence in my apartment seemed like a welcome friend now. I needed it to think and process. To get my head back on straight where Brielle was concerned.

ten

brielle

“Your ass had better be awake,” Clara’s voice called out, and then I heard the front door close.

I stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around myself.

“Seriously! I have to tell you something, and you want to hear it!” she said, her voice coming closer.

I walked into my bedroom just as Clara entered through the hallway entrance.

“Good. You’re awake,” she said, looking relieved. “I was probably going to wake you up if you weren’t.”

I hadn’t expected her back here tonight. After leaving her with Dean to wash dishes, I figured they’d end up together. Maybe they had, and she was coming to give me details. Although I hadn’t been gone that long, so it couldn’t be a lot of details. Either way, I didn’t want to hear about it. There were some things we wouldn’t share. Dean Finlay sex details were one of them.

“You didn’t leave with Dean?” I asked, trying to sound as if I didn’t care. Because I shouldn’t care. It was dangerous to care.

She plopped down on the edge of my bed. “No, I didn’t leave with Dean. You’re the only female that man wanted to leave with. Jesus, Brielle, did you not see the way he was watching you? Like, he watched your every move. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

I didn’t want to believe that because doing so would mess with my head.

“He’s old,” was my reply. It was a stupid response and something I didn’t care about. Age was just a number—or at least, that was what someone had told me once.

“Shut up. He’s Dean fucking Finlay. He will be hot when he’s seventy. Besides, fifty-three is not old. It’s just seasoned,” Clara replied.

I shrugged because I didn’t have the energy to argue against something I agreed with.

“He thinks Cam is your boyfriend, or you’re in some relationship with him,” she said, grinning brightly, as if this were the best news ever.

“I know,” I replied.

Her smile fell. “You do?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yep. He walked in on me talking to Cam on the phone. He assumed I was talking to some guy I was dating. Cam hadn’t called me during his drive to camp. I had told him to check in every two hours. I was panicking. Dean made a snide comment about my being controlling or something. It annoyed me. I disliked him on sight.”

Clara was staring at me like I was crazy. “Okay, wait. First off, you’ve known about Dean Finlay living in this building since the day Cam went to camp, and you didn’t tell me? And why didn’t you tell him who Cam was?”

I shrugged and walked over to my dresser to get a nightgown. “I didn’t know he was living here that day. He had a meeting at the college. And, no, I didn’t see a reason to explain my phone call to him.”

“Okay, we will get back to that whole meeting Dean Finlay and not telling me bit. But for now, let’s focus on the important stuff. I see a reason to tell him about Cam. The man is into you. He’s not sure if he likes how you’re treating your boyfriend, but he’s almost to the point that he doesn’t care. He wants your hot ass. I can see it all over his face.”

I took out one of my favorite nightgowns and slipped it over my head. “You’re reading way more into this than is there. He’s Dean Finlay. He can have any woman on earth he wants. I am a college admissions assistant. There’s nothing special about me. He does not want me.”

Clara growled in frustration and stood up, throwing her hands in the air. “For the love of all that is holy! Would you listen to me when I tell you that you’re gorgeous, smart, thoughtful, kind, tough, the best mom I know, and you’ve got a fantastic personality? Why wouldn’t he want you?”

I walked over and hugged her tightly. “I love you too,” I said, then let her go. “But right now, I want to get in bed. I have work tomorrow and a date with Gavin tomorrow night. I called him right after I got off the phone with Cam. I decided I needed to date someone this summer. You’re right about that.” Because I was fantasizing about Dean Finlay, and that was a slippery slope.

“You’re going out with a cute construction worker when a hot rock star is interested in you? Seriously? Is this real life?” She seemed so deflated.

“You go out with Dean Finlay if you think he’s so great,” I told her. Even if, deep down, I didn’t necessarily mean it. Because then I’d have to hear about it, and I wasn’t sure I could do that.

“Oh, I went at it full force. I used all my skills. I thought he was just hard to get until we walked into the kitchen and I realized the man was interested—just not in me. He’d been smart enough to lock in on my hot best friend,” Clara told me.

“You’re wrong. Doesn’t matter anyway. Now, I need sleep. Go home,” I told her gently.

She sighed loudly, stood up, then turned and headed to the door. “Fine. All my dreams of being the best friend of Dean Finlay’s girlfriend are dashed. You’ve taken them from me. You should be ashamed. I am but a broken woman now. Shattered beyond repair,” she said dramatically as she walked into the hallway.

“Tomorrow is another day,” I told her. “Perhaps you can make friends with some other rock star’s girlfriend.”

I started to mention that Kiro Manning visited Dean sometimes or that he had the one time I went up to his penthouse. However, I decided that was a bad idea. She was just now soaking in that Dean lived here. I would do that another day.

“Do you have ice cream in your freezer?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Good. I’ll lock up when I leave. But I need ice cream to move on from this,” she said, then headed down the hallway.

I figured the ice cream would lead to her watching Netflix, too, so I went over and closed my bedroom door before crawling into bed.

Sleep didn’t come as quickly as I had hoped, but when it did, the dreams came too. Dean Finlay showed up in all of them.

Managing not to think about Dean the next day at work was easy since I’d been given the task of taking the paper files and converting them to digital. The computer crashed twice because it’d needed to be replaced five years ago. There were incomplete and missing files. My right heel broke. I started my period and had forgotten to bring a tampon, and to top it all off, it was eighty-three degrees in the filing room.

When I walked into my apartment, where the air conditioner kept the temperature at a lovely sixty-eight degrees, I dropped my bag on the floor and basked in the cool … until my eyes landed on my sofa.

No. Not my sofa, but a sofa.

Slowly, I walked around to the other side of the sofa and stared down at it. The cushions were so big and full that it appeared you could sink into it. The square armrests were wide enough to set things on, and the color was closer to a slate gray than a blue. One single yellow chenille throw pillow was in the center, brightening the piece up. I didn’t move. I just stared. It was brand-new and the nicest thing I had in this apartment. The other living room furniture looked sad in comparison.

After the initial shock wore off, the anger set in. He’d come in my apartment when I was gone. He’d taken my old sofa and replaced it without my permission. Just because he owned the building didn’t mean he got to decorate other people’s homes. I paid him rent for this apartment. It was mine. He had no right, coming in here when I wasn’t home. He could see things. Pictures. Cam’s room. This was my private place. He shouldn’t have been in my apartment.

I stalked toward the door and slammed it as I headed to the elevator. He was going to bring my sofa back and take this … this … very luxurious replacement away. When I got in the elevator, I realized there was no button for his floor. The penthouse floor required a special code to make the elevator go to that level.

I pulled my phone from my pocket to text him.

I need to talk to you. Now.

I sent it and waited. It didn’t take longer than a minute before he replied.

You don’t like it?

Damn him. Anyone would like the stupid sofa. It was fabulous. That was not the point.

Now, Dean.

Go to the elevator. Press 3, 2, 1, then press 3 twice very quickly. I trust you’ll not share that with anyone.

I pressed the numbers the way he had said, and the doors closed immediately. When the elevator began to rise, my hands fisted at my sides. He was so high-handed. I didn’t care about his stupid fame. I didn’t need his money. My sofa was fine! I hadn’t asked him for a new one. No insurance would pay for that kind of replacement. He’d been in my home without me there. So many things were wrong with this situation.

The elevator doors slid open, and there on the other side stood Dean, at his open doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. His chest was bare. All of his glorious tattoos and his pierced nipple on display.

I would not be distracted.

I started in his direction, not looking any lower than his eyes. I was angry, dammit. Not here to see him half-naked.

“I tried to go with a pearl or cream-colored one, but Clara insisted that you couldn’t do a light color,” he said with a shrug.

I paused and placed a hand on my hip. Clara? She was in on this? Dang it!

Now, I couldn’t be completely mad at him. I had to share that anger with my best friend, who had meant well but crossed a boundary. Which didn’t shock me. She was always crossing boundaries. She should have known I wouldn’t want him in my apartment. That just made sense. Privacy and all.

“I’ll deal with her next,” I said to him. “She didn’t pay for it, and she didn’t help herself into my apartment without my permission.”

His eyebrows rose, and he made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Ah, not exactly true. She used the key you’d given her and was there for the people who picked up your sofa and the people who delivered the new one. I’ve personally not seen inside your apartment. You’re a tenant after all. I respect your privacy.”

I cursed under my breath. “I’m taking my key back,” I muttered.

Then, I was relieved that he hadn’t been in my apartment. That Clara had handled it all even if she stepped out of line to do it.

Dean chuckled. “Can I offer you a soda? Slice of some fucking delicious cherry pie that Mrs. Jo made me? Or perhaps a beer?”

I dropped my hand from my hip and ran the other hand over my hair with a sigh. Right now, all I could think was that Dean was guilty of buying me a sofa I hadn’t asked for. It seemed my best friend was the one who should be the receiver of my anger. At least most of it.

I was supposed to meet Gavin in two hours at Carmines.

I shook my head. Going inside that penthouse with a shirtless Dean was a bad idea.

“I have to go. But the sofa is too much. Just … can you take it back? Get your money back? I know insurance didn’t cover that.”

Dean gave a slight shrug. “Guess I could. But then you wouldn’t have a sofa at all. Your other one fell apart at the base and was broken before they even got it on the truck. It is currently in several pieces at the dump.”

Crap. I bit down on my lip to keep from groaning. Of course it had fallen apart. It had been close to crumbling under the weight of anyone sitting on it. The thing belonged in a dump.

“Okay, then maybe you could get a less expensive sofa that insurance will cover? Or I can find one at a secondhand shop and bring you the receipt, and you can reimburse me?” Either of those ideas sat better with me than the fabulous sofa in my living room.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, then straightened from leaning against the doorframe. “But first, you need to come inside and get a drink and some pie. We will talk about it then. I think Maegan filled my wine rack yesterday. I forgot about that. I’ll even let you choose the bottle. We can have a glass.”

I should leave, but there was a part of me—the stupid, not thinking clearly part of me—that wanted to go inside. He’d said I wasn’t his type. He could have meant that.

I glanced back at the elevator.

“Just twenty minutes, max,” he said.

Twenty minutes. I could do twenty minutes. Then, maybe he’d get me a less luxurious sofa, and I wouldn’t think about him every time I sat on it. That was probably unlikely either way, but I had hopes.

“Twenty minutes,” I agreed.

He grinned at me, and I wished it weren’t attractive. I wished he looked like an old guy. I wished he weren’t my landlord. I wished a lot of things, but none of them were coming true.

Dean stepped back and let me enter. It smelled good. Almost like the ideal beach scent. With fresh ocean air, coconut, it was very tropical. It hadn’t smelled like this the last time I was here.

“I’ll show you the wine rack,” he said and began walking in the opposite direction of the living area.

I followed him down a hall I hadn’t seen before that led to a large dining room. The table was big enough to sit sixteen guests with a giant black chandelier hanging over it.

There was a corner with a floor-to-ceiling built-in wooden rack, stocked full of wine bottles. He sauntered over to it with his jeans hanging on his hips. The muscles on his back moved as he walked. His wide shoulders were more noticeable when he was shirtless. His narrow waist was also on display. I tried not to admire the view, but it was hard. Especially with the Slacker Demon tattoo covering most of his back. It was well known that all the members of the band had the same tattoo. I had once seen all their tattoos in a photo on the cover of a magazine in the grocery checkout.

It was a reminder that he was famous. Not just in America, but also worldwide. He was legendary. He had been deemed the greatest drummer of the century by Rolling Stones magazine. There was no younger band that had come close to their fame.

“I haven’t looked at the selections. Feel free to pull out as many bottles as you need to,” he said as he turned around to look at me.

My eyes snapped up from his bare chest to his face. I caught a knowing grin curving across his lips.

“Your tattoo,” I began, trying to explain myself. I didn’t want him to think I had been ogling him, although I had in fact been doing just that. “I’ve never seen a Slacker Demon tattoo in person.” That was a dumb comment. One I had grabbed at to cover my staring. My face felt hot.

“You want a closer look?” he asked, still grinning.

I shook my head, feeling even more embarrassed. “Uh, do you walk around without a shirt often?” I asked, trying to turn the conversation on him and possibly get him to put a shirt on.

“Yes. I was in my underwear before you texted. I pulled on the jeans for your benefit. Don’t you enjoy being comfortable in your home?”

I chuckled softly. “Yes, I do,” I admitted. “But my idea of comfortable is a pair of pajama pants and a big, baggy T-shirt.”

His eyes dropped to my chest. “But no bra,” he added.

I inhaled deeply, wishing I hadn’t because he was staring at my boobs still. “That’s not your business,” I said, hoping I had sounded more annoyed and less breathless.

He smirked at me. “Women hate bras. They’re confining. It was a statement, not a question.”

I wasn’t going to talk about bras with him. He was doing it to make me nervous and uncomfortable.

“Maybe I should go,” I said, thinking this had indeed been a very bad idea.

“No,” he said, moving in my direction. “I promise to be good. I’m sorry. I am sure you wear a bra at home all the time. I’ll stop thinking about you braless and let you pick out a wine.”

He then walked by me, pausing but a second when he was beside me before leaving the room. I turned and watched him walk away, thinking he was quite possibly the sexiest man alive. Even at fifty-three.

eleven

dean

Why had I invited her inside? It was clear she was upset about the sofa, but once she had found out that Clara was the one in her apartment, her temper had quickly sizzled out. I should have agreed to getting her something less expensive and let her go.

Instead, I was inviting her to pick out a bottle of wine for us to drink and offering her some of the pie that Mrs. Jo had given me. Brielle was in a relationship. She had already cheated on him once since I’d met her. She was twenty-eight years old. Those three facts alone were enough for me to stop finding reasons to be around her.

I reached for a T-shirt I’d had on earlier, lying across the ottoman in the living room, and pulled it over my head. I’d done that too. Chosen not to put it on when she was coming up here. I knew my body looked good. I had to keep it that way in case Kiro wanted to do a concert or hit the road again. My damn vanity had wanted to show her just how good I looked.

“I don’t know a lot about wine. Or at least, the kind you have in there. I buy my wine at the grocery store, and it’s whatever is on sale most of the time. But I know I like Zinfandel,” she said, holding out a bottle of wine to me.

That particular bottle hadn’t come from a grocery store. She was right about that. She had good taste. Even if she didn’t realize it.

I took the bottle and winked at her. “Good choice.” I headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll open the bottle and pour the wine. You can cut the pie and put it on plates. I’ll show you where to find things.”

She followed me into the kitchen, and I opened the knife drawer, then pointed to the cabinet with the plates in it.

“There,” I said simply, then focused on the wine and not the way she smelled or looked in the sleeveless blouse and navy linen shorts she was wearing.

We worked in silence for a few minutes before I glanced over at her.

“The cake was good last night. I forgot to mention it.”

She smiled softly and placed a slice of pie on a plate. “Thanks. But it won’t be as good as this. I can see you’ve already had some, so you know of its deliciousness,” she said.

I nodded. “Indeed.”

“Mrs. Jo loves with this pie. Since she gave you one, that means, you’ve made it into her heart. She wouldn’t have made this for you otherwise. With her, a cherry delight pie means she loves you. That you’ve become family. Count yourself lucky,” Brielle said to me, then gave me a pointed look.

“I’m glad to hear that. She’s a nice lady,” I replied, walking the two glasses of wine over to the table, setting them down. “How long have you known her?” I asked.

Brielle smiled, as if having a fond memory. “Since I moved here. She was the first person in the building to speak to me. Actually, she came over and, uh …” Brielle paused, as if not sure if she should continue.

I waited, more curious than before.

“She introduced herself. She made me feel welcome.” Then, she stopped and said nothing more.

She’d left something out. That was clear. I was good at reading her. The more I watched her, the better I got at it. Brielle had an expressive face.

“She’s very excited about your new sofa. That might be why she gave me this pie,” I admitted.

Brielle laughed and looked up at me through her lashes. “There’s a good chance you’re right.”

The smile that spread across my face was easy. I wanted to smile. Hell, I wanted to fucking laugh. Brielle made me feel … happy. Why the fuck was that? Why did she make me feel anything more than lust?

She took a bite, and I watched her swallow, then take a sip of the wine. My own was forgotten in front of me. I preferred the view over the food and drink.

Brielle glanced over at me again and blushed. “Why are you looking at me? Do I have pie on my face?” she asked me.

I could lie and tell her she did, but I didn’t. I decided honesty with her was best. “You’re hard not to look at.”

Her big blue eyes widened, and she stared at me. My mind went to other things then. Naked things. Brielle spread out on top of this table kind of things. My cock hardened and pressed against the zipper of my jeans.

“I, uh, should probably go,” she said, moving her chair back.

“You’ve not finished your wine or your pie,” I pointed out.

She looked at me nervously, then closed her eyes a minute and took a deep breath before opening them. “I’m sorry. This, we, it … I don’t think I should have come inside,” she said, standing up.

I watched her struggle with something more to say before walking out.

I tried to force myself to stay in my chair. Let her go. She was right to leave. We both needed her to leave.

But I couldn’t.

Jumping up out of my chair, I took several long strides until I was behind her. Reaching out, I grabbed her waist and pulled her back against my chest, wrapping one arm around her middle to hold her there. I closed my eyes tightly and inhaled her scent. Why did this one female make me so damn stupid?

“Stay,” I said against her ear, and she shivered in my arms. I relished the feel of it. I wanted her as affected as I was. I didn’t want to be alone in this complete insanity.

She inhaled deeply, then said in a whisper, “I’m not your type.”

“The fuck you aren’t. What do you know about my type?” I asked, smiling as I pressed a kiss to her earlobe.

She was exactly my type. Or at least, she had been once.

She let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what your type is,” she admitted. “But you told Mrs. Jo I wasn’t your type.”

Damn.

I ran the back of my finger down her neck slowly. “You ever told a lie, Brielle? One that you wanted to be true?” I asked her as I traced the neckline of her top.

She shivered again, then nodded.

“You’re young. I swore off younger women,” I whispered against her ear. “I was changing my ways.”

I moved my right hand down to cup her breast through the soft fabric of her blouse. She sucked in a breath but didn’t move away from me.

“But you make that real damn hard.”

She stood so still that her quick intakes of breath were the only sounds she made. I cupped her other breast in my left hand and squeezed gently. They felt amazing. More than a handful—and I had big fucking hands. A soft moan came from her lips, and I wanted to see her. I wanted to watch her face. See those big eyes staring up at me. Full of the same need that was pumping through me. Owning me.

I dropped my hands and grabbed her waist, then turned her until her back was against the wall. She let her head fall back as she looked at me. It was there. The same desire that was clawing at me. The want to know just how good this could get.

Reaching up, I grabbed her chin between my thumb and forefinger and held her still. Studying the plumpness before lowering my head to claim those sweet lips. The softness was better than I’d dreamed up, and when she opened her mouth for me, I was lost. I grabbed her head with both hands, burying my fingers in her thick brown locks.

She tasted like the wine and cherries. She made them a perfect combination.

I moved a hand from her hair and slid it under her shirt until I could tug her bra down, freeing her breasts. When the soft, warm flesh filled my palm, I groaned and broke the kiss. The shirt had to go.

“Take it off,” I growled, looking from her down to the shirt.

She moved her hands up to the buttons and began unfastening them slowly, as if at any moment, she might stop. It was driving me crazy. I fought the urge to rip it free. When the last button was undone, her breasts were held up by the bra still under them. They looked like a fucking buffet being offered up to me.

I touched them reverently. Her large pink nipples were even more beautiful than I’d imagined, and I had imagined them more than I cared to admit. I squeezed them gently before lowering my head to pull a candy-sweet nipple into my mouth.

Brielle’s moans stoked the fire inside me. I was going to fuck her. No one else would do. It had to be her. In this moment, I didn’t care if she was engaged to Cam, whoever he was.

“Dean,” she said breathlessly, “please.”

I was afraid to ask what that please meant. If it was her asking me to stop, I was going to end up on my knees in front of her, begging. This couldn’t be all she let me have.

I kissed down her stomach and went to my knees, then began unfastening her shorts.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I pulled the shorts down to her ankles and lifted my head to look at her as I pulled her pink satin panties down as well. I took her right leg and placed it over my shoulder. Her eyes widened, and she was panting.

“Dean?” She said my name as a question.

“Hmm?” I asked her, running my nose along the inside of her thigh.

“What—what are you doing?”

I ran my hand up her leg until my fingers slid along her damp opening.

“Oh God,” she panted, and her knee buckled.

I pressed her back so she had more support from the wall, and I gave her a wicked grin before pressing a kiss to the top of her thigh, then moved my head between her legs. With one long lick from my tongue, she cried out my name and trembled.

I held her steady at the waist as I began to pleasure her with my mouth. She tasted fresh and sweet. The scent of her arousal made me throb in my jeans, but for the moment, this was all about her. Giving her an orgasm. Showing her how good I could make her feel.

She pulled at my hair, one of her hands fisting it. I liked the sharp pain and growled against her clit before gently flicking it several times with my tongue. Her knee buckled again.

I looked up at her and licked my lips. “You taste like fucking heaven,” I told her before going back for more.

Brielle’s body was shaking as I tasted her and teased her with my tongue. She began begging me and moaning. I loved the sound of her voice. Knowing I had her so damn close. When I wasn’t sure she could take much more, I sucked on her swollen clit, and she exploded in my arms.

My name was a scream from her lips, and her body jerked several times as the orgasm flooded through her. When I was sure she was done, I stood back up to hold her, but then I heard something from behind me.

“Oh good. Did you bring her to join us? I love threesomes,” Maegan said.

I saw the second Brielle’s pleasure turned to horror in her eyes. She looked stricken as she pushed me away and grabbed her shorts, tugging them back up her legs before buttoning up her shirt.

“What the fuck?” I barked at Maegan, barely containing my fury.

She looked so sincere in her confusion, but I knew better. Maegan had waited for the perfect time to speak up. To send Brielle running. Fucking Maegan was one of the worst mistakes I’d ever made.

“I have to go,” Brielle said, pulling away from me.

I reached for her, but she jerked away from me. Unable to even look at me.

“NO!” she shouted, then turned to run toward the door.

“Brielle, listen to me,” I begged, going after her.

She shook her head and opened the door. “Just let me go,” she said in a pleading voice. “I’m so stupid,” she added. “Just let me go!”

I stalked after her, and when she reached the elevator, I grabbed her arm.

“Brielle,” I said sternly, “you have to listen to me.”

“No,” she said as she began pushing the button over and over, as if that would make it open faster. “I can’t believe I let you …” she said, then covered her face. “No one has ever done that to me. And I just let you …” She let out a sob as the doors to the elevator opened.

I started to follow her inside, but she held out a hand. Unshed tears in her eyes.

“Don’t,” she said forcefully. “Let me go. Please.”

The doors started to close.

“I need to explain,” I told her.

“I don’t care,” she replied, and then she was gone.

I stood there, angry with Maegan for screwing this up for me. Angry with myself for hiring Maegan and fucking her. And angry with Brielle. She hadn’t given me a chance to explain.

I slammed both hands against the closed elevator doors. “DAMMIT!” I roared.

Then, I turned and stalked back toward the open penthouse door.

I didn’t stop to look at Maegan, who was standing there, waiting.

“You’re fired. Get your shit and go. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. You broke the contract,” I said and continued heading to my bedroom.

“Dean! I didn’t know,” she called out after me.

“Fuck that! You knew exactly what you were doing. You have twenty minutes, and then I’m calling the police. Leave.” I slammed the door behind me.

My next building manager was going to be a man. A straight man.

twelve

brielle

The rest of the week was uneventful. I went to work, I came home, I made myself an easy dinner and started reading the pile of books beside my bed. I’d once again canceled my date with Gavin, but after what I’d done with Dean, there was no way that I could go on a date and even have a conversation.

That girl, the one I had turned into up in his penthouse, was not someone I wanted to be again.

He’d thought I had run because his building manager had shown up and said what she did. But that wasn’t it exactly. I knew that was the kind of lifestyle Dean had. He’d probably had orgies with the band and groupies. A threesome would be wholesome compared to the things he’d done. I wasn’t a naive kid. I knew better … yet in that moment, it hadn’t mattered. Dean Finlay made me stupid.

Maegan’s voice had snapped me out of whatever spell I’d been under. I had just let Dean take my bottoms off and … lick me down there. In his hallway, against a wall.

Who was I? When had I started acting like that? I wasn’t some wild-ass groupie. I had a kid. I was a mom.

Dean expected those things from women. He expected exactly what I had turned into. But I wasn’t that girl, and since he hadn’t tried to talk to me again after the day I fled his penthouse, then I figured he must have come to that conclusion too. I wasn’t his type after all. Something we had both known but ignored. My actions had been so unlike me that I couldn’t even tell Clara about what we’d done. What I’d let him do.

Luckily, Clara had a date tonight, and I wouldn’t be pressed to go out with her. It was Friday night, and I was craving a night in with ice cream, Chinese food, and pointless television. The food order had been placed, so I sat down with a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream and began flipping through the stations on my television.

I missed Cam. He’d told me yesterday that he wouldn’t be able to call again until Sunday. They were prepping for a battle of the bands at camp. I also felt like he needed me to give him more independence. Having to call your mother daily had to be getting old.

I stuck another bite of ice cream in my mouth just as I reached the entertainment channel. I paused. I knew that back. I leaned against the overstuffed cushions of my sofa, which still hadn’t been replaced with something more affordable, and watched.

Dean’s hand rested on the lower back of a tall, willowy blonde, wearing a dress that dreams were made of. The red carpet under their feet and the screaming fans on either side, being held back as they walked up to the large backdrop of the movie premiere they were attending, made Dean appear untouchable. I wondered if Dean ever wore a tux. Even now, he was dressed in black jeans that hung low on his hips, a black leather vest with nothing under it, a thin silver chain around his neck, and black boots.

I studied the blonde on his arm. She was older than me, the kind of stunning beauty you’d expect to see on Dean’s arm, and I was jealous. I shouldn’t be, but I was. I would never look like that on his arm. Of course, I’d never be on his arm.

The bottom of the screen said her name was Helena Noble, and of course she was a model. I stuck another large bite of ice cream in my mouth. I wanted to change the channel, but I needed to watch this. It was obviously something I had let myself forget. This was Dean’s life. His world. Not the apartment building I lived in.

The announcer talked about Dean being seen with this woman twice that week in Beverly Hills. So, he was back in California. I hadn’t known he had left. Was Maegan here? I didn’t want to ever see her again. I was humiliated enough that I’d been caught like that. She was the only witness to my moment of weakness. I’d prefer to never run into her again.

The blonde said something to him, and he laughed, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. There was a look in his eyes though. One that I’d never seen.

I put the ice cream down on the table and leaned forward to stare at him closely.

He was acting. That was fake. I’d seen Dean when he was laughing. Really laughing. This wasn’t it. The laugh didn’t truly meet his eyes. I didn’t look back at the woman. I kept my gaze locked on Dean until they were gone and the next couple appeared.

I pressed the power button on the remote and stared now at the black screen.

In two weeks, Cam would be home. We would have to start getting things ready for the new school year. My life would revolve around being a mom once again. It was what I knew. I was good at being a mom. I loved being Cam’s mom.

Dean would probably never speak to me again. Or maybe, after time, he’d forget that I had run out on him. If we did run into each other in the building, we could make small talk, then go on about our lives. The more at arm’s length I kept him, the better.

The whole idea, however, made me sad. I didn’t want to feel anything, but I did.

The doorbell rang, and I knew my food was here. I’d eat my feelings or eat while I was trying to make sense of my feelings. Grabbing my money, I opened the door, paid the delivery guy, and took my food. Locking back up, I headed for the kitchen to open my grocery-store bottle of wine to go with my kung pao chicken and side of dumplings.

I glanced at my phone and considered texting Cam, but I fought the urge. I had to stop hovering so much. He was getting older. It was just hard to accept.

Once I had my food on a plate and a glass of wine, I headed back to the living room. I was going to try streaming television this time. No chance of seeing Dean and getting my head in a mess. I decided on one of my comfort shows and dug into my food while I started season three of Downton Abbey.

thirteen

dean

Kiro’s attempts to get me to stay in Beverly Hills had been futile. Ten days there, and I was ready to head back to the East Coast. I’d shown my face at several events and done my duty to the band.

Now, I was back in Florida, where the sun was hotter and life moved slower.

It had been two weeks since I’d seen Brielle. The space had been good for me. Fucking Helena didn’t help, but it was a distraction for a moment. The strippers that Kiro brought home were entertaining as well, but in the end, it was just a shallow, pointless release. The kind my life had been full of and I no longer desired. It was why I’d left California. I wanted normal.

Passing by the college that Brielle worked at was tempting. I could pull in there and walk into the office. She’d be there, unable to run away from me this time. I’d get a chance to explain or apologize for Maegan, but that was behind me. I was putting Brielle behind me. That had been a terrible idea anyway.

I parked in my private garage, then headed up the elevator that took me into my penthouse. Rush had been by to check on things, and he’d hired a new building manager for me. It wasn’t a man, but it was a female Rush had assured me wouldn’t be interested in me sexually. She had a wife, who worked at the Kerrington Country Club, and they lived in Rosemary Beach.

Everything was clean and in order. It was also quiet, and I embraced that after ten days of living with Kiro again. My gaze, however, went to the hallway. The one I’d eaten Brielle’s pussy in while she screamed my name. It felt like unfinished business, and I hated that feeling. She was going to haunt me in my own damn place. But getting her back up here to finish it and move on with my life didn’t seem like a great idea either.

I stood there, staring down the hallway, remembering how good she had tasted, how sexy her sounds of pleasure had been, and I wished there were some way I could wash it from my memory.

“Fuck it!” I said in frustration and pulled out my cell phone, then pressed her number.

It rang three times, and I thought it was going to be sent to voice mail when, “Hello?” came over the line. Except it wasn’t a normal-sounding hello. Something was wrong.

“Brielle?” I asked.

There was a pause. Silence. I began to think I’d called the wrong person or maybe she’d changed her number.

“Yes,” she said, followed by a fit of coughing.

“You’re sick,” I stated.

“Yeah,” she said, and then I heard a rattling sound in her chest.

“Have you been to the doctor?” I asked, getting more concerned by the second.

“Yes. Clara took me yesterday,” she replied.

“Did they give you meds? What’s wrong?” I asked her as I began walking toward the door.

“It’s COVID. I’m on meds. It sounds worse than it is,” she said, then coughed again.

“Are you alone?” I asked her, pressing the elevator button.

“Yes. I’m quarantining.”

“Fuck that,” I muttered into the phone and pressed the third-floor button.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“I’m coming down there. You need someone to take care of you,” I said to her.

“Dean, I have COVID. You can’t come here, or you’ll have to quarantine too. Clara wore a mask around me and still has to quarantine for five days at her place.” She stopped talking and started coughing again.

It sounded like she couldn’t breathe.

Damn, why is the elevator taking so fucking long?

Finally, it opened up, and I rushed out of it and toward her door. I didn’t have a key with me, I realized.

“Open your door. I’ll take a damn COVID test later, but I am staying with you. Your oxygen could drop. You need to be kept hydrated and fed.”

She laughed weakly then. “And you’re gonna do all that for me?”

“Yes. Now, open your door.”

She ended the call, and I waited. Just when I was about to call her back and threaten to go get a key and come in myself, the door opened, and she stepped back. She was wearing a face mask, a pair of sweatpants, and an oversize sweatshirt. It was a hundred degrees outside and pretty damn warm in her apartment.

How is she not burning up?

I stepped inside and immediately put my hand against her forehead. “You have a fever,” I told her.

“Did you miss the part where I told you I have COVID?” she asked.

I grabbed one side of the mask and pulled it off of her. “I’ve been vaccinated, and I’ve had a booster,” I said.

She sighed. “So have I.”

“I don’t care. You can’t breathe good enough as it is. You’re not wearing a damn mask,” I said.

She swayed then and reached out to grab my arm, and I went to catch her.

“I’m dizzy,” she muttered.

I bent down and tucked a hand under her knees, then swung her into my arms.

“Put me down,” she said in a hoarse whisper as her eyes closed.

“I will. As soon as I get you to your bed,” I told her. “When was the last time you ate?”

Her eyelids fluttered. “This morning, I think.” Then, she paused. “Oh, no, it was last night. I had some crackers.”

When I reached her room, I laid her down on the side of the bed that wasn’t as messy, then straightened the covers on the other side before moving her over and covering her up properly.

The cup beside her bed had very little water in it, or it was melted ice from something else she had been drinking.

“Lie there. I’ll be back in a moment,” I said, then headed for the kitchen.

I went straight to the fridge and opened the freezer to get ice. There was no ice in the maker, and it looked like there hadn’t been in a very long time. There was no sign of ice in the bucket. Closing the freezer, I glanced around and noticed four empty ice trays in her sink.

Why wasn’t she using the ice maker?

Jerking open the door to the fridge, I found a pitcher of water and was relieved that she had some that was cold. I filled her glass and found a new straw in the drawer under the microwave. Checking her cabinets and fridge, I found very little to take her to eat. I settled on crackers and peanut butter. I made several little sandwiches with the crackers and peanut butter, then put them on a plate and went back to her room with them.

Her eyes were closed when I walked in, but when I set the glass and plate down on the table beside her, she opened her eyes and looked at me.

“You barely have food,” I told her.

Then, I picked up the pillows on the floor and placed them behind her so that she could sit up and eat. Once she was adjusted and sitting up for the most part, I put the plate beside her and handed her the glass of water.

“I’m going to have some groceries delivered. Do you like soup? Chicken noodle? Tomato?” I asked.

She took a sip of the water, then looked down at the plate. “Chicken noodle is good,” she replied. “Or maybe just broth. I don’t have an appetite,” she replied. Her voice sounded weak.

“What doctor did you go to? Was it a good one? Where are your meds?” I asked as I looked around for bottles of something so I could read what they’d prescribed her myself.

“I went to the after-hours clinic. My meds are in the bathroom,” she said, pointing to the bathroom connected to her bedroom.

“Eat,” I told her. Then, I headed to the bathroom to find what they’d given her.

My eyes locked on the hot-pink bra lying on the floor and the pair of black lace panties on top of the dirty clothes basket. I mentally scolded myself and shoved the images out of my head while I looked for her medication.

They were by the sink. The first one was some shit I couldn’t even pronounce, but I’d heard of it. I’d seen the CDC talking about it on the news. The other was for pain and fever. I took both of them with me back into the room.

Brielle was chewing, but her head was resting against the wall since she didn’t have an actual headboard, and her eyes were closed. She looked pale, and her breathing was shallow. She shouldn’t have been alone.

“When did you get sick?” I asked her, walking over to the bed to sit on the edge. I needed to keep her awake long enough to eat.

“Two days ago. I started feeling bad and figured it was the leftover Chinese food I’d taken for lunch. But it kept getting worse, and by the next morning, I was not okay,” she said.

I took the half-eaten cracker sandwich from her hand and held it up to her mouth. “Eat,” I said firmly. “Did you take your medicine today?” I asked then.

She nodded and took a bite without arguing. I reached over and got her water, then held it to her lips for her to take a drink. I repeated the process until she finished all of them. I took the extra pillows away and helped her ease back down onto the single pillow she’d been lying on earlier.

“Rest. I’ll handle everything else. Don’t get up without me. You could fall.”

She studied me, and I waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, I turned and headed for the door.

“Dean?”

I looked back at her. “Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You need help,” I replied, then left her to rest.

Telling her that seeing her sick like this scared the shit out of me wasn’t going to help our situation. I was human, so I should be concerned for her, but it was more than that. And I didn’t have the correct words to explain it when I didn’t understand what it was myself. I just didn’t want her to be sick.

fourteen

brielle

My eyes opened slowly, and I expected the pounding of my head to greet me along with the pain in my chest from the endless coughing. When I felt neither, I glanced around, then decided to slowly attempt sitting up. I managed it, and still, nothing. I wasn’t even nauseous.

I looked over at my phone, and the time said it was eight in the morning.

I had slept all night. I hadn’t woken up with coughing spasms.

Pushing back the covers, I stood up and started to walk to the bathroom to relieve myself when my eyes landed on Dean. He was under a quilt from the closet, and his head was on one of the sham-covered pillows I put on my bed when it was made up. He looked exhausted.

How is he sleeping on the hard floor? And why?

Last night, he had slept on the expensive sofa. I knew it was much more comfortable.

I moved quietly into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

If he hadn’t shown up when he did, I didn’t know what I’d have done. He had bought me groceries and kept me fed. He had made sure I had my meds at the right time. It was impossible to dehydrate with him constantly bringing me Gatorade or water. There was one point when my fever had gotten so high that I was sure that him being here was a hallucination.

Walking over to the shower, I turned it on and waited until the water was warm before taking off my clothes and stepping into the stream. The water felt wonderful. The past few days, I hadn’t been able to stand for long, much less get a shower. I stepped back once and sat down on the small built-in bench. If the water would stay warm without eventually running cold, I could stay in here all day.

There were so many things I needed to do today. Calling and checking in with Cam was the first thing.

I’d gotten a couple of texts from him, and I could only respond that I wasn’t feeling well and would call him once I was better. Clara called me once, and I wasn’t able to answer—my head was pounding. She texted next, and I managed to update her on my condition. I hadn’t told her Dean was here with me though. She’d read too much into that. Heck, I was reading too much into it. At least in my dreams, I had. He’d kept showing up.

When I’d had moments of clarity, I’d convinced myself that he was being a friend, although the idea of Dean Finlay being my friend was so odd. Adjusting to the fact that my landlord was famous had been difficult enough to wrap my head around. Him taking care of me while I had COVID was so unexpected.

Standing back up, I began the process of bathing myself and washing my hair. My legs needed shaving, as did other parts, so I took my time in doing it all. I didn’t want to overdo it and end up back in bed again today. I knew there were bills in the mailbox, waiting on me. My electricity, car payment, and water bills were all due to arrive this week. The more I thought of all I needed to do, the more stressed I felt myself getting.

I finished in the shower sooner than I had intended and was drying off when there was a knock on the bathroom door. The door didn’t lock, and I quickly wrapped my towel around my body before it slowly opened up. Dean stood there, looking sexy and disheveled.

That wasn’t fair, but then was life ever really fair? The man was fifty-three. He had slept on the floor, possibly all night. Why did he not have pillow creases on his cheek or swollen eyes? Why didn’t his hair look like a bird had taken up residence in it?

“Good morning,” he said in a raspy, deep voice from sleep.

“Good morning,” I replied, holding the towel tightly around me.

My hair was wet and dripping down my back, but I wasn’t about to take the towel to dry it with Dean standing there, looking at me.

“You must feel better,” he said, then yawned while running a hand through his perfectly messy hair.

I nodded. “I do. But you slept on the floor. Are you okay?”

He smirked. “Yeah. My back might beat me up about it some today, but I’ll survive.”

“Why didn’t you sleep on the sofa again?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You were too quiet. No coughing. Nothing. It worried me. I moved closer in case you needed something.”

I had no words for that. I stared at him, trying to figure out why he had been so worried about me. He could have paid someone to come and stay with me. He had people at his beck and call.

“Why did you stay?” I asked him.

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “What? No, Thank you, Dean?”

I sighed. “Of course I am grateful to you. I just don’t understand why you did it.”

He was quiet a moment, then finally shook his head. “You were sick. I was worried. You needed someone. I stayed. That’s it.”

“But you’re Dean Finlay,” I said pointedly. “I can’t imagine taking care of sick people is something you do often.”

“I raised my son. His mother wasn’t much of a mother. When he was sick, she always sent him to me. I know what to do.”

I had read articles about him and his son when I was younger. It was always something the media loved to cover.

Dean Finlay, badass drummer for Slacker Demon, is an exceptional father when he’s not onstage. It was one of many things they’d said about him.

It was something I’d always wondered about, then felt guilty for doubting it.

Him taking care of his son was one thing. I was just … a tenant? A girl he knew? I didn’t know what I was to the man. We were something that would never have a label.

“I’m also really good with pancakes. They’re my specialty. You ready to eat something other than soup?”

He was going to make me pancakes. Maybe I was still sleeping. I hoped not. I really, really hoped not.

“That sounds wonderful,” I replied.

He grinned, obviously pleased. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” Then, he did one quick scan of my towel-clad body, winked at me, and closed the door.

I took a deep breath, then walked over to the mirror to see how ridiculous I looked. My wet hair was lying flat, which was better than what it had looked like when I woke up. My face was flushed and no longer looked pale. It wasn’t as bad as I had imagined.

Reaching under the cabinet, I pulled out a second towel and began to dry my hair.

He had been here a few days now, and I knew he’d seen the pictures around the house—possibly even Cam’s room—yet he never asked about anything. I wondered if he hadn’t snooped at all. That was impressive, if it was a fact. I wasn’t sure I could have done the same in his position. There was plenty I didn’t want him to see, but I’d been so sick that none of that mattered. I knew, now, it might matter a lot.

I brushed out my hair and continued to dry it. I would worry about this later. I had to get my hair dry and get dressed. After all, Dean Finlay was in my kitchen, making me breakfast. I didn’t need to keep him waiting.

fifteen

dean

She was better. I was making sure she had something to eat, and then I was leaving. Staying here would lead to me doing things I’d regret. Twice, when her fever had gotten high and she’d begun tossing and turning in her sleep, she’d asked about Cam. That was the only thing that kept me grounded.

However, where the fuck Cam was, I didn’t know. Why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he shown up? Not my fucking business.

I would admit, I cared too much where Brielle was concerned. It was more than lust, and I knew that. This was a first for me. Wanting something that wasn’t good for me. Typically, the only wanting I did was for a hot fuck. With her, I enjoyed her company—when she wasn’t being a smart-ass. Oh, who was I kidding? I liked that about her. She had no problem with putting me in my place.

Staying here and seeing how she had made this small apartment so comfortable and homey got to me. That was fucking stupid, and I knew it, but it did give me warm feelings I needed to get over. Her colorful paintings, pictures of her family—or at least, her younger brother—vanilla-scented candles, and mismatched china patterns should not make me feel anything.

The more distance I put between us, the better. She had Cam—wherever the fuck he was—and I had my life. One very different from this apartment. From her world.

I finished placing the last blueberry pancake on the plate and put one pat of butter on top before walking over to the table and setting it down. She could eat this and carry on with her life again. I would make my exit and flush this woman from my system.

I heard the hair dryer and decided to step out now rather than talking to her again. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself to leave if I had to look at her one more time. I’d want to ask her things. Find out about her younger brother. Where the rest of her family was. Where she had grown up. If yellow was her favorite color—it was in almost everything she surrounded herself with.

I placed a fork and napkin beside her plate, walked over to the sofa, and grabbed my duffel bag. Then, I headed for the door. Best that I go and stop this now. It wasn’t leading anywhere. The less I knew about Brielle McGinnis, the better.

After a shower and breakfast, I took a COVID test to make sure I was in the clear before I headed for Rosemary Beach. I was supposed to have dinner with Rush and his family last night, but I’d called and explained my absence. Today, I would go spend time with my grandkids at their pool. Getting out of the apartment building had seemed like a top priority. Not that Brielle would come up to the penthouse and ask me why I’d disappeared, but what if she did? I wasn’t sure I could make the right decisions. Not yet anyway.

Rosemary Beach was the same. It never seemed to change. I drove down Highway 30A until I came to the driveway leading up to Rush and Blaire’s home.

When I had bought this place for Rush when he was a kid so he’d have a decent place to live, I’d not imagined him growing up and raising a family in it. He turned out so much better than I could have hoped for. There was a time when I saw his life going in a very different direction. I worried about him. I thought my lifestyle and the way he’d been raised in it had ruined him for a normal life.

Blaire had walked into his world and changed all of that. My boy fell in love. Sure, they had faced some hard times, obstacles that seemed too big to overcome, but in the end, love had won.

Rush had the life I would never have. A wife who loved him, living in a house with his kids, and raising them together. Here in Rosemary Beach, they had a community of friends that were like family.

I parked my Harley just behind Blaire’s Tesla and pulled off my helmet just as the front door opened, and Nate, my grandson, came barreling out of it, headed straight for me. The kid was his dad’s replica. He even had his eyes.

“DEAN!” Nate called out as he ran my way. “Give me a ride!”

I chuckled as he came to a sliding halt in front of me.

“The girls call me G-man, you know. I should get something more than Dean if your other grandfather gets called Grandpop.”

“But you’re Dean,” he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “the Finlay.”

I laughed and grabbed him, pulling him in for a hug. “Well, Dean the Finlay is terrified of your mama, and there is no way I am giving you a ride on my bike. You know she doesn’t want you on it.”

Nate sighed loudly. “Dammit.”

“Language, boy. You want your mama skinning us both?”

Nate shot an amused grin up at me. “Mama don’t skin no one.”

“You upset her, and your daddy will though.”

Nate shrugged. “Not really. He acts tough, but he’s not really scary.”

I squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t let him know that.”

Nate nodded. “Yeah, I won’t.”

The door opened again, and three-year-old Phoenix stepped out in a pink polka dot swimsuit that had sparkles on it, her red hair wild with curls.

She waved at me. “G-man!” she called out to me.

“There’s one of my favorite princesses!” I said as I made my way to the front door.

“Ophelia is at Lila Kate’s. They had a sleepover,” Nate said, sounding disgusted with the idea of it.

Ophelia was the middle child and often the most difficult. But I loved her spunk and sass. She was never settled and always full of energy.

“Come swim with me!” Phoenix said as I reached her.

I bent down and picked her up to spin her around. She squealed with delight.

“Come on in, Dean!” Blaire called from inside the house. “I’ve got my hands covered in cookie dough.”

I followed Nate into the house with Phoenix still clinging to my neck. This place had once seemed so cold when Rush was a kid. I’d hated the way his mother made it a showplace rather than a home. Blaire was his mother’s opposite. The place was a home now with the smell of baking cookies, toys on the living room floor, music playing through the house, wet footprints on the marble floor, and laughter. Always laughter.

When life seemed hard or I felt as if it was slipping from me, I came here to visit. This place and the people in it made every day I had lived worth it. Today, it would get my mind off a certain brunette who was entirely too young. I would be reminded of just who I was. A grandfather, a dad, someone for my family to love and respect. I had to keep that as my focus.

In this house, I wasn’t Dean Finlay, the rock star. I was G-man, the grandfather. And I was fucking happy about it.

sixteen

brielle

Before the sun had come up, I had showered, dressed, dusted and vacuumed Cam’s room, made his favorite brownies with icing on top, and changed the sheets on his bed even though they didn’t need it. The past eleven days had been confusing and disappointing. From the moment I had walked out of my bedroom to find an empty apartment and blueberry pancakes on the table with no good-bye or note, I’d been a mix of emotions.

Cam coming home, however, made my world right again. This summer had been a weird one, and I found myself looking forward to the routine the new school year would bring. Knowing what to expect and not being confused by my landlord. I wasn’t even sure he was living upstairs anymore. I hadn’t seen him since the morning he’d opened my bathroom door to ask me if I wanted pancakes.

Those few days he had taken care of me while I was sick now seemed like a dream. Almost as if I had made it up. Cam would make life better again. I needed him here. Even if he was going to be let down because I hadn’t gotten Dean’s autograph.

Glancing at the clock, I jumped up from the table, where I had been drinking my third cup of coffee, and walked over to the window to look outside. Cam should be here any minute. Thirty minutes ago, he’d texted that they were back in town and that his best friend, Jeremy’s, dad was there early and bringing him home.

I was sad that I hadn’t been there to see him get off the bus, but I had been told they wouldn’t arrive until ten. Instead, they’d gotten back at eight forty-five. I couldn’t wait to get my arms around him. His arriving early just meant I got to see him sooner.

I gave the apartment one more look around to make sure it was perfect for his return home, then went down to wait on him outside. Mrs. Jo had made me promise to tell her when he got home, but I wanted him alone for a bit first. I had to hear all about his summer. The stuff he hadn’t texted me about or told me in a call. The older he got, the less he let me in on his life.

That was the hardest part of being a mom, I’d decided. The time when your kid wanted their independence. When you didn’t feel as needed anymore. It hurt, although they didn’t mean for it to. It was just part of life. I knew that, but it didn’t make it less painful.

I stepped outside the building just as Jeremy’s father, Pete, drove up in his old blue Ford truck. Pete and Nora had divorced two years ago, and last spring, Pete had asked me to coffee one morning. I made an excuse. Then, he’d sit by me at the boys’ baseball games. I remained friendly, but I also made it clear I was not interested in more. Eventually, he’d left me alone.

When the truck came to a stop and the passenger door flung open, Cam jumped down from the seat and grinned at me. Just last year, he would have run into my arms for a hug. But not now. So much had changed in a year. Instead, he walked over to me and let me hug him. He returned the hug, but not as tightly as I was doing. I knew I was embarrassing him in front of Jeremy, and I tried to think of that, but I was just so happy he was here that it was hard.

“Missed you too, Mom,” he said, stepping back from me.

“You’ve gotten taller,” I told him, holding his arms and looking at him for any other signs of change.

“Mom,” he said with a sigh. “I was just gone for six weeks.”

I wanted to laugh at that. Just six weeks. It’d seemed more like twelve weeks.

“You grew,” I repeated, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He was going to be taller than me before I knew it. The thought made my throat clog with emotion.

“Here’s his suitcase,” Pete said, walking up and putting the suitcase down beside him. “Sounds like they had a good summer. Hope you did too.” He smiled. It was the too-friendly smile I wanted to avoid.

“I did, and same to you. Thanks for bringing him home,” I told him.

“No problem. Anytime you need help, you’ve got my number,” he said.

I hadn’t needed help today. I just hadn’t known they would arrive so soon. I was always available to pick up my kid. But I didn’t say that to him. He was just trying to be nice.

I managed to simply nod.

“See you later,” Cam called out to Jeremy, who looked up from his cell phone and waved.

I put my hand on Cam’s back, and he grabbed the handle on his suitcase and rolled it as we walked back to the building’s entrance.

“I’m going to need to hear it all from the beginning, but first, I made you brownies.”

“With icing?” he asked.

“Oh, you wanted icing?”

He paused and looked at me like I was crazy. I managed to keep a serious expression for a few moments, but I cracked and laughed. He grinned.

My boy was home. Life was good again. I would be fine. No more time to think about men … or one man. The summer of the rock star was over. Besides, I might never see him again. There was a good chance he had moved back to Beverly Hills.

When the elevator doors opened and we stepped out into the hallway, Cam paused and let out a low whistle. “Wow. What happened to this place?”

I had forgotten about the fact that he didn’t know about the new paint, lights, hardwoods. When we had talked, we had spoken about his day, not what was going on here.

“You should see the new loungers at the pool,” I told him. “New owner bought the building and fixed things up.”

I left out who that new owner was. That wasn’t something he needed to know. Cam would stalk the place until he saw a glimpse of Dean.

“Who cares about loungers? What about a slide?” he replied.

“No slide. Sorry, kiddo,” I said as I unlocked the door to our apartment.

Before we could go inside, the door to Mrs. Jo’s apartment swung open.

“I thought I heard that familiar voice!” She beamed brightly. “And look at how tall you got!” she added.

Cam cut his gaze at me, and I gave him an I told you so look.

“Hey, Mrs. Jo,” he replied.

“I made you an Oreo pie. You wait right there, and I’ll go get it,” she said.

I didn’t even have to nudge him; he headed in her direction to go get his pie.

“Bet they didn’t have pies like this at music camp!” Mrs. Jo called out from inside her apartment.

“They sure didn’t,” Cam agreed as Mrs. Jo came back to the door and handed him the pie, then patted his cheek.

“So handsome,” she told him. “Now, go give your mama all the attention. She’s missed you something fierce.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “And thank you for the pie.”

She smiled up at him. “Anytime you want one, you know where to go.”

Cam was grinning at me when he walked back to our door. He was taller now, but when he smiled like that, all I saw was the little boy who wanted to hold my hand, follow me around the house while I cleaned, held on to my arm at night while we slept. He didn’t do any of those things anymore. Life was changing every day. But we had each other, and that was what mattered. He couldn’t stay a little boy forever.

seventeen

dean

Kiro was bored. I had expected this from him. When he was bored, we went on tour. Every damn time. Our manager had tried to convince him to wait until next summer, but the best he could do was this winter. Kiro wasn’t waiting a year to get onstage and feel the power that came with fans screaming his name.

Sitting through meetings at our Beverly Hills house with the rest of the band had been tedious. One week had been annoying, but two weeks had been brutal. Kiro and his social life had slowed over the years, but when he was going through shit mentally, he tended to fill the void with people. Mostly women. Lots of them.

Once things were decided and tour stops chosen, Kiro had something to focus on, and I was free to go back to Florida. The only good thing to come of it all was, I’d been busy enough to keep Brielle out of my head. Not entirely, but for the most part.

The August heat was like walking in a sauna. I considered putting on swim trunks and getting in the pool, but then I would be noticed. There was no hiding behind glasses and a hat in the pool. My Slacker Demon tattoo would be a dead giveaway, if nothing else.

Staying inside with the air conditioner was the only way to get relief. Just as I settled on the fact that I’d be alone in my penthouse all day, my phone alerted me of a text. I looked down and saw the general contractor for the renovations to the building was asking me about the dead palm tree on the south end of the property. I wasn’t sure which one he was talking about, so I texted back that I’d meet him there in ten minutes. Then, I stood up and grabbed my hat and glasses before heading to the private exit.

The oppressive weather slapped me in the face as I walked out of the elevator and through the gate leading from my garage to the apartment grounds. I hoped this shit didn’t take long. I glanced at the pool, and the image of Brielle’s bikini-covered ass popped in my head, and I jerked my gaze off the pool area and kept walking to the south part of the property.

I wasn’t going to think about her. I’d been doing good. Out of sight, out of mind. Right?

“Holy shit.”

I paused and turned toward the voice.

Standing on the sidewalk adjacent to the path I was on was a boy. He was older than Nate, but he was still young. Brown hair was long enough that he had it tucked behind his ears. My gaze went to the drumsticks in his hands. He was just carrying them around. Twirling them. Possibly playing on things other than drums when he felt the beat. I’d once done the same thing.

The boy recognized me, and oddly, he looked familiar to me.

I smiled at him. “Hello.”

His jaw dropped slightly. “No way,” he muttered, then shook his head. “No freaking way.”

“Nice sticks,” I told him, wondering what it was about the kid that was so familiar.

It was clear we had never met. His reaction had made that apparent.

He glanced at the drumsticks in his hand, then back at me. The awestruck look on his face made the bad shit in this life worth it. To this kid and others like him, I was important. I stood for something.

“You play?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I, uh, just got back from camp a few days ago. Music camp,” he said, and then he squinted his eyes and studied me hard. “Are you really him?”

Unable to keep my smile from spreading, I shrugged. “If you mean, am I Dean Finlay? Then, yes, I’m really him.”

“You’re here. At my apartment building. Here. You.” He shook his head again and continued to stare. “Mom said you didn’t come to the office. I thought maybe you had changed your mind.”

What? Did I know his mom? Maybe that was it. But what office?

“Your autograph. She was supposed to get it for me. On my old drumsticks actually. I left them for her to get you to sign them. They were my first drumsticks. The ones I’d learned on. I’d saved up enough money from mowing grass and running errands last year to help her pay for camp and buy these better sticks.”

I, too, had once mowed lawns to pay for my drumsticks. The kid wanted to play. He wanted to be the best. He wanted it bad enough to make it happen. It wasn’t a passing thing for him. He was invested in it. I didn’t see that much anymore.

“You live here then?” I asked him, waving a hand back at the apartment building. Perhaps I’d seen him from a distance once and forgotten about it.

He nodded. “Yeah. If you could wait a second, I could run and go get a Sharpie. Maybe you could sign these sticks?” he asked me with so much fucking hopefulness in his voice that it made my chest tighten.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ve got to go see this man for a few minutes to handle a situation. You can walk with me, and there’s a good chance he’ll have a Sharpie in his truck. That way, you can tell me about this camp you went to. They didn’t have music camps when I was a kid. You could show me what you learned. We could play a set together.”

The way his eyes lit up with complete joy made me want to go sit down and play a few sets with the kid right now. Give him some pointers. Show him how to develop it. I hoped to God he had talent. For his sake.

“Sure!” he replied.

“This way,” I told him, and he fell into step beside me.

“How long you been playing?” I asked him.

“Three years ago, the music teacher at school let us pick an instrument we wanted to learn. I chose the drums. I thought they were cool. Mom said I’d been drumming on things since I was little. I learned basics that year, but I wanted my own drums. Mom saved and worked some extra jobs to get me a set. She thinks I believe they were from Santa, but I don’t have the heart to tell her that I haven’t believed in Santa for years. I know she worked hard to buy it for me. It was used, but it was the one I had picked out. We can’t afford lessons, but my music teacher helps me at school during the year. He’s not as good as you though.”

Where was the kid’s dad? Why was his mom paying for everything? Fucking deadbeat parents. I hated that shit. I’d had my own set of fucked up parents. Rush’s mom had her issues too. When you chose to bring life into this world, you should put your kid first.

“What about your dad?” I asked him, already knowing the answer was going to piss me off.

The kid shrugged. “Don’t know. Never met him. Mom got pregnant young, and he didn’t want to be a dad. She tried to get in touch with him several times. She doesn’t know I know that though. I overheard her talking to her best friend about it.”

Yep. I was pissed. Poor kid knew his dad didn’t want him. No one should feel like that. Especially a kid.

“Mr. Finlay,” Norton, the general contractor, called out my name, and I turned my attention to the man waiting for me.

“Where is it?” I asked him.

He pointed at a palm tree that did look like it was dying. I studied it a moment.

“Think it can be saved if we call someone who knows something about this stuff?”

He shrugged. “Doubtful, but I can try.”

I hated to chop it down if it had a chance. “Try,” I replied. “It’s not completely dead. There could be hope.”

Norton nodded. “Also, what about the pool? You made a decision on its renovation yet?”

“I’ll let you know by the end of the week,” I said, then added, “Do you have a Sharpie on you?”

Norton fished around in a pocket on his work belt, then pulled out a black Sharpie. “This work?” he asked.

“Perfect,” I told him, then turned to the kid, realizing he’d never told me his name.

He held out his sticks to me. I took them and signed each one, then handed them back.

“Thanks! This is the best thing ever. Mom isn’t going to believe it,” he said, staring at my signature like it was the holy grail.

“I’m sure there are some things better in life,” I replied.

He shook his head emphatically. “No! There isn’t. I gotta go show her,” he said. “Are you serious about playing a set with me sometime?” he asked nervously.

I nodded. “Yes. But first, it might help if I knew your name,” I replied.

He grinned brightly. “Cam. Cam McGinnis,” he said. “You want our apartment number?” he asked.

Cam. McGinnis. This was Cam. The pictures. I’d seen him in the pictures. I’d thought … I’d thought he was her brother. I’d assumed they were siblings. I stood there, replaying every conversation, every moment, every single mention of his name. Words didn’t come right away, and I knew I needed to say something. But the fact that I’d just been slapped in the face with information I’d never expected had left me speechless.

“I got a phone too. I’m only supposed to use it to talk to Mom and my best friend, Jeremy, but she won’t mind if I give it to you. Mom used to be a big Slacker Demon fan. She almost got to go to your concert a long time ago, but her foster mom wouldn’t let her go.”

He continued to talk. To tell me things. Things I should have known. Things I hadn’t asked.

All the assumptions I’d made … fuck!

“Your mama ever tell you that beauty is only skin deep?”

Jesus! She was a foster kid. Fuck me! Damn, I was lucky she ever spoke to me again. I was a royal asshole.

“Uh, yeah,” I managed to get out. “I know your apartment number.”

He looked confused but didn’t argue. He waved the sticks at me. “Thanks again! See you soon!” Then, he turned and ran back toward the entrance to the building.

I stood there and stared at him. How had I not realized it the moment he looked up at me with those eyes? They were her eyes.

How old had she been when she had him? And she was a foster kid? How the fuck had she managed to keep him? Take care of him? She’d worked extra to send him to music camp. That was where he’d been. That phone conversation where I’d thought she was giving some guy hell, she’d been a worried mother.

I was one stupid motherfucker.

And I realized I didn’t know Brielle McGinnis at all.

eighteen

brielle

The smell of lasagna filled the apartment. When Cam was at camp, I hadn’t made real meals just for myself. Now that he was home, I was cooking daily. Yesterday, it had been tacos. The day before that, it had been fried chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans. The day he had gotten home, it had been fettuccini Alfredo with fresh Gulf shrimp. I had missed having a reason to cook.

I finished folding the rest of the laundry and left it in little piles all over the sofa to go pull the lasagna out of the oven. Cam would be back by five for dinner, and I’d have him put the laundry away, so we could sit in the living room after dinner and watch the new Marvel movie he had been wanting to see. It was available to stream, and I’d already purchased it as a surprise.

The door swung open, startling me since it was at least thirty minutes sooner than Cam had said he’d be back from meeting Jeremy at the park. I spun around, and Cam ran into the apartment with a huge smile on his face. His drumsticks were in his left hand. He rarely went anywhere without those things. It had been that way since he had played for the first time. It was as if they had become a part of him.

“MOM!” he called out louder than necessary since he had my attention already. “You are NOT going to believe this!” he said with pure excitement all over his face.

In that moment, I knew. He didn’t have to tell me anything else. I knew. There were few things in this world that excited Cam that way, and I knew without a doubt what this was about. But I said nothing, and I let him tell me. I would smile and act as happy as he was. I would pretend for him. Because the truth was, right now, the man who had made my son so happy did the exact opposite for me.

He held out his drumsticks to me. “Look at that,” he said with awe in his voice. “Just look real close.”

Dean’s signature was on not one, but both of them. The fact that he had jerked me around emotionally and messed with my head didn’t seem to matter right now. He’d signed Cam’s drumsticks. I had never seen Cam this happy in my life. Except possibly on the Christmas he had gotten his drums. But even then, he hadn’t been glowing like this.

“Wow, bud, that’s awesome,” I replied.

“It’s crazy! Mom, he was right out there. Right outside our apartment. I was standing there, and he walked by with a hat and glasses on, but I recognized him. I saw the tattoo on his right arm first, and I knew it. I just can’t believe it. He talked to me. Said he’d play a set with me. He wanted to see what I learned at camp!!”

But would Dean give him pointers once he knew whose kid he was? I felt a sick knot in my stomach. I didn’t want Cam to be disappointed and all because of me. Maybe I could promise not to be here when Dean came if he was avoiding me. This was a moment I didn’t want to take from Cam. Even if it scared me.

“That’s—that’s—wow, Cam.”

I was going to have to talk to Dean. Make sure he didn’t change his mind.

“RIGHT! I gotta go call Jeremy,” he said as he raced from the living room to his bedroom.

I didn’t call after him to put his laundry away. I didn’t say anything at all. I stood there, staring at the wall. Trying to sort out how to handle this. What to do. If I could do anything. Was it best just to let it play out?

As if on autopilot, I went to the oven, took out the lasagna, placed it on the hot plate I’d put on the counter, turned the oven off, then stared at the lasagna the way I’d stared at the wall.

What should I do? Why hadn’t I just told Dean who Cam was? After the day in the office, I could have just told him and stopped the stubborn pride thing.

The doorbell rang, and I lifted my gaze from the lasagna to the living room. When I didn’t hear Cam’s footsteps running down the hallway, I moved toward the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and if it was Clara, I was not in the mood to hear her talk about stuff. I had my own problems.

I checked through the peephole, then froze. Placing a hand on the door, I steadied myself. He hadn’t wasted any time on coming through on his promise to Cam. Or was he here to confront me? I mean, I hadn’t done anything wrong exactly. The wrongs I had committed, he didn’t know about. I had just withheld information from him, but it was not his business. My personal life was never his business.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, and then I stepped outside and closed it behind me. I needed to speak to him a moment without Cam overhearing us.

“Hi,” I said, not sure how to start.

He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s how you’re going to start this?” he asked me.

“Uh, yeah, that, and thanks for signing Cam’s drumsticks. You have no idea how happy you made him.”

There. He’d deserved that. He had been kind when he wasn’t required to be. I appreciated it. More than he would ever realize.

“So, Cam,” he said, “isn’t your boyfriend.”

I sighed loudly and shook my head. “I never said he was. That was your assumption.”

“You’re twenty-eight. What else was I supposed to think?” he said pointedly.

“I didn’t see a reason to correct you,” I replied.

“Letting me make a complete ass of myself with my comments was a better idea?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It wasn’t your business who he was.” That wasn’t a fair response, and I knew it.

Dean took a step toward me, and I backed up until I was pressed against the door. “The time I had my face between your legs, it would have changed everything if I’d known you weren’t a cheater.”

I stiffened. Not sure what bothered me—the memory of my having an orgasm on his face or that he’d called me a cheater, which I was clearly not. Probably both.

“You know, he mentioned what a big fan you were,” Dean said, bending his head down so that his face was closer to mine. “That you never made it to a concert.. That I was your favorite Slacker Demon.”

I closed my eyes as my face heated. “He has an imagination,” I said quietly.

Dean’s hand cupped the side of my face, and then he slid it into my hair. “I don’t think so. I think Cam was telling me the truth.”

Dammit, Cam. Why did you have to talk about me? To him?

“You were once. Maybe for a little while,” I replied.

“Hmm,” he said, running the tip of his nose up my neck and inhaling deeply. “You admitted it. That was a hopeful guess.”

Knowing Cam could open this door at any moment, I placed my hands flat against Dean’s chest and pushed him back. He barely budged.

“Cam is inside. I’m cooking dinner. I have to go,” I said, sounding breathless and hating it.

Dean nodded, then reached behind me for the doorknob. “Excellent. I’m starving.”

I covered his hand with mine, stopping him from opening the door. “I didn’t invite you.”

He tilted his head to the side and grinned wickedly. “But what would Cam want? He’d want me here for dinner. I could watch him play and give him some pointers. You’d keep that from him? After how happy he was to meet me?”

Damn him. He was right, and he knew it. I took a deep breath.

This was what I was afraid he wouldn’t do. I had been afraid he’d let Cam down but he was here, doing exactly as he had promised. I was being ridiculous and selfish.

“You’re right. Thank you,” I said and started to turn to the door.

He stopped me. “I’ve got other ideas on how you can thank me. A lot of ideas. So fucking many.”

My eyes flared, and I wanted to slap him, shove him, possibly kiss him until my legs were weak, but I wasn’t going to dwell on that last one. That was one road we never needed to go down.

“You don’t need me for all your ideas,” I said angrily.

He chuckled. “Oh, but I do, Brielle. I so fucking do.”

I opened the door to get some distance from his hard, warm body. I needed air. Clarity. To calm myself down.

When I stepped inside, my eyes went directly to the laundry still on the sofa.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” I said to him, walking over to it and quickly gathering my panties and bras. That was what I got for not putting it away immediately.

“Don’t move them for me. I’d enjoy going through them,” he said, standing entirely too close again.

I turned to look at him. “Personal space. It’s a thing. One you need to respect.”

He smirked. “But do you really want that? Your mouth is telling me one thing, but your body is telling me something different.”

His eyes dropped to my breasts. My nipples were hard, and I muttered a curse.

“Just move. Go stand or sit over there. I’ll call Cam in here,” I said to him.

“You do that,” he replied in an amused tone.

What was he up to? Why was he being weird? He had ghosted me the morning he left me pancakes. It had been two weeks. Nothing. Not that he had to contact me, but it had felt like there was a connection or a bond the morning I woke up with him asleep on my bedroom floor. Then, he had disappeared. Poof.

Now, this?

“Cam!” I called out.

“What?” he replied.

“You’ve got a visitor!” I told him.

I glanced back at Dean, who was standing over by the television, looking at the photos on the shelf above it.

“God, you were a child yourself,” he whispered.

The picture in his hand was Cam’s first birthday. We had gone to the zoo that day because my former employer had given me passes. He had loved the elephants.

“You’re here!” Cam’s surprised voice cracked.

Dean set the photo down and turned around to Cam. “I said I wanted you to show me what you learned.”

Cam nodded his head. “Yeah, you did,” he agreed.

“Let me see those drums,” he told him.

Cam beamed up at him and nodded again. “Okay! This way. They’re in my room. We got them used, remember, but they’re real nice.”

“My first set was used too. A well-loved set makes a damn good set,” Dean said.

They disappeared down the hallway. I moved the towels out of the way, and I sank down onto the sofa. This day had taken a turn. Another emotional one. Where Dean Finlay was concerned, my feelings and head were all over the place. He could mess me up so easily. I just didn’t want him to mess with Cam’s emotions.

I didn’t expect him to visit Cam again, but this one time could be magical. Cam could remember it for the rest of his life. We would have dinner together. Heck, I’d even invite Dean to watch the movie with us. Then, when he left, it would be good-bye. That would be it.

nineteen

dean

Things I hadn’t known about Brielle.

She could cook, she had been a single mom since she was eighteen years old, she never dated—at least, that Cam knew about—she worked a side job as a food delivery person for one of those apps when they needed extra money for something, and she was a great mom. Every word out of the kid’s mouth said she was. He had praised his mom by telling all of this in conversation.

Brielle stood to start clearing the table, and Cam jumped up and began helping her without being asked. He was a good kid. I joined them, and Brielle took the plate from my hands, then took it to the sink.

“Cam has been wanting to watch the new Marvel movie. I bought it to stream tonight,” she told me.

“You did?!” Cam exclaimed. “Thanks, Mom!”

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling over at him.

I wasn’t ready to leave. I didn’t want to dwell on it too deeply, but I wanted to be near them. To watch them. A part of me thought if I watched them closely enough, I’d see something about Brielle that wasn’t perfect. That she’d show me her faults. We all had them. I was just struggling to find hers. Probably because I had just found out the faults I had stacked against her were all bullshit lies.

For a moment this afternoon, I’d imagined taking her the way I wanted. Fucking her until we were both satisfied with this attraction between us. Knowing that she wasn’t a cheater and being with her was all good. But then watching them, seeing her be a mom, I knew I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to mess with this. With her. She deserved more. More than what I was offering.

I glanced over at their small television, then looked back at Brielle. “How about we watch it in our own private theater?” I asked.

She frowned, unsure of what I meant.

“Where?” Cam asked.

I looked up. “My place.”

“You have a theater up there too?” Brielle asked me.

I had a lot of things I wanted to show her. Starting with the sauna. Naked. But that had been before … before I knew all this about her. She was a single mom. A young single mom. She needed a future, and I wasn’t a future for her.

“Yes, I do,” I replied.

“Oh my God. Mom, please! Can we?” Cam grabbed her arm with a pleading look.

It was clear on her face she wanted to say no. She knew I wasn’t good for them.

“But I bought it on our Amazon Prime account,” she told him.

“You can sign in to your account on my system,” I told her, but she already knew that. I needed to shut the fuck up. I wasn’t making this easier for myself.

She cut her eyes up at me, and just like that, I wanted to laugh at her frustrated expression. I liked making her eyes flash with anger. Since I would no longer allow myself to let them flash with passion or lust.

“See! We can do that. Let’s do it, Mom,” he encouraged.

I could see her give in before she finally nodded. “Okay, fine.”

“We have microwave popcorn,” Cam said to me.

“We could use that or use my movie theater popcorn machine,” I told him.

I’d never actually used it yet. Maegan had bought it for the theater for when my grandkids visited.

“Hell yeah!” Cam replied.

“Camden Dace McGinnis,” Brielle said in a stern voice. She was even sexy in mom mode.

Cam looked sheepish. “Sorry, Mom.”

She gave a nod. “Go get your shoes on,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

When he was out of earshot, I leaned down to her. “You realize he probably says worse than that when you’re not around. He’s a boy. He’ll be a teenager before you know it.”

She glared at me. “Maybe so, but in my presence, I’ll correct him.”

Because she cared. I knew Blaire wouldn’t allow that from Nate or the girls either when they got a little older and tried it. Rush had cursed like a sailor by the time he was eight. His mother didn’t notice or care. I wasn’t much better. Raising him in my world had been screwed up.

“If he wants to put on his pajamas or whatever he sleeps in so he can be comfortable, we are just going up the elevator. He doesn’t really even need shoes.”

She looked back in the direction Cam had gone. “That would be better. That way, he can just go to bed when we get back. I’ll go tell him,” she said.

I watched her walk away, wishing like hell I could turn off my attraction to her. It was worse now that I knew about her past. There was a respect I held for her after hearing her son talk about her and all she’d sacrificed for him. It had changed everything. Including my plans to get her in my bed. That would no longer be happening. I wasn’t going to be the man in Cam’s life, and that was what he needed. Someone who could stand beside Brielle and help her raise her son. A man who wanted a family. That was not me.

When Brielle came from Cam’s room, there was a smile on her face I hadn’t seen before. It was a happy, content, maybe even hopeful smile. I didn’t need to be the one making her smile like that. Tonight would be a one and done. Cam was a fan, and I would do this for him. Then, I’d leave for a few weeks. Go back to Beverly Hills until Kiro annoyed me. Give us all a break.

“You planning a second date with the construction worker?” I asked her.

She looked surprised by my question before shrugging. “We never made it on our first date. Things kept coming up.”

Damn. I needed obstacles in my way. It would make it harder for me to cave in and take what I wanted.

“I’m ready!” Cam said with excitement as he came bounding out of his room.

I was doing this for the kid. Nothing more. He’d have something to tell his friends. This had nothing to do with his mother.

I’d keep telling myself that until it sank in.

“Let’s head on up,” I said as I made my way to the door.

I could be thankful that Brielle wasn’t wearing her pajamas. There was only so much a man could take.

I held the door open as they walked out, and we all headed toward the elevator.

“This is crazy,” Cam said in the elevator. “No one will ever believe me.”

“We’ll take some pictures. They can’t argue with those,” I told him.

His eyes lit up once again, and he beamed at me. He had his mom’s smile, I realized.

“Seriously? You’d let me do that?”

I nodded. “It’s always best to have proof.”

My gaze went to Brielle, who was looking at me.

Thank you, she mouthed silently.

I knew she meant it. As much as I got under her skin, she would forgive me anything for Cam. That wasn’t why I was doing it though. I liked the kid. I could give him this with no real effort on my part. Maybe one day, years from now, I’d turn on the television, and he’d be on the drums for some hot, new band. I hoped to hell that happened.

twenty

brielle

This was an experience that Cam would never forget. He’d tell his kids about it one day. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he knew it. There were many reasons I should dislike the arrogant man who was currently showing my son his drums that he had in a soundproofed room with red padded walls, but in this moment, none of those reasons mattered. Cam was living a dream.

A warmth settled in my chest when I looked at Dean; it was dangerous, and I knew it. I couldn’t let something like this derail the truths I knew about this man. He was good with kids, he was kind when it came to his younger fans, and he was focused on Cam. It was as if I weren’t here at all. No suggestive comments or looks. I respected that about him. Even if watching this scene play out in front of me broke me just a little. It was something I’d never imagined Cam would get to do. He was sharing his love with his hero. The man he wanted to be like. Dean had no idea the impact he had on Cam’s life.

“Theater is on the other side of the apartment,” Dean said, finally looking in my direction.

“If you two are ready, then I am too,” I replied.

Cam reverently touched the drumsticks Dean had left beside his drum set, then looked up at Dean. “I’m ready.”

Dean nodded his head in the direction of the sticks. “Take those with you. I’ve broken them in, but they need more use than I’ve been giving them these days.”

That was it. The man had found a way to make me forget all his wrongs. My chest felt so tight that I thought I might cry.

Cam’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the drumsticks, then back at Dean. “For real?” he asked with complete awe in his expression.

Dean nodded. “Yep. They need a good home.”

Cam snatched them up then and held them in his hands tightly. I wondered if he’d ever put them down again. I also feared that, at any moment, I would wake up, and this would all be a dream. This couldn’t be real life. Especially since I was feeling things for Dean Finlay that didn’t need to be there. Things that would lead to heartbreak—and not just mine.

I watched as Cam walked over to Dean and looked up at him.

“Thank you,” he said simply, but the expression on his face made it clear how much this meant to him.

Dean squeezed his shoulder. “Just treat ’em right,” he said.

Cam nodded. “I will. I swear it.”

I stayed silent, not sure I could talk over the lump in my throat, and followed them to the theater. At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised by the amenities in this penthouse, but yet again, I was stunned. The room was something out of a magazine. Fifteen black leather reclining chairs. An entire section with a soda machine, popcorn machine, and other snacks inside a glass display case. The screen was as large as one in an actual theater, and the walls had framed posters from Slacker Demon concerts, dating all the way back to the early ’90s.

Cam went straight to the oldest poster. He stared up at it, then moved down the row of them. Somehow, this evening just kept getting better and better for him.

He pointed at a poster and then back at me. “This would have been the tour you didn’t get to see, Mom,” he said, smiling. “It was the year I was born.”

I felt Dean’s gaze on me, and my cheeks warmed. A small part of me felt panicky, but I knew no one could read my thoughts. My secrets were my own.

“Who wants popcorn?” I asked, changing the subject.

Dean chuckled, and I shifted my gaze to him and smiled.

“Happy? I was a fan,” I said to him.

He smirked and said nothing.

I watched as he walked over to the popcorn machine and stared at it as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. I realized he’d never actually used it himself. Before he could call Maegan and possibly get her in here, I moved toward him.

“I can figure it out if you want to set up the movie. Cam can help you sign in to my account,” I told him.

He looked relieved. “That I can do,” he replied.

I was able to figure out the process easy enough, and when the sound of popping kernels began, the screen also lit up. Cam’s laughter echoed through the room, and I glanced over to see Dean grinning. He had said something that amused Cam. The way he was looking up at Dean with complete hero worship was new for me.

There had been little to no men in my life, and none of them had ever been allowed around Cam. I hadn’t trusted anyone that much.

This was the first time I was trusting a man around my son. Granted, it was a famous man that my son idolized, but still, this was a big step for me. I was trusting Dean with Cam, and I hadn’t realized I was doing it until now.

Was this a mistake?

“Mom! You want a soda?” Cam asked me.

I shook my head. “A water is fine.”

“Can I have some candy too?” he then asked me.

I glanced at Dean, who was looking at me with a go on, let the boy have some candy expression.

I nodded. Why not? I was letting all this happen and not thinking of the repercussions. What harm would some candy do?

I filled three bags with popcorn and handed them out before going to find a seat. Cam took a chair in the row in front of me, and Dean took a seat in a chair two seats down from mine. We were all spread out. Somehow, I hadn’t expected that.

A part of me had thought Dean would sit beside me. I was reluctant to admit I had wanted him to. My feelings for him had taken a turn tonight, or maybe it was that I was willing to accept how he made me feel now that he had made Cam so happy. Before, I had fought it and denied feeling anything for Dean. After all he had done for Cam, my walls were down.

Dean’s, however, seemed to be going up. I glanced at him and watched as he took a drink of his soda, then tossed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. Not once did he look in my direction. His gaze was locked on the screen in front of him. So much so that it seemed forced. Was he trying not to look at me? What had I missed? Normally, he did all he could do to get me to talk to him. He would go as far as baiting me with his words just to get my attention.

Tonight, he was different. Was it because of Cam?

The movie began, and I moved my eyes to the screen. I knew enough about the Marvel world to follow along. Cam had made me watch all the movies, but I still didn’t really care about it. I simply watched them to have something to do with Cam.

I was more aware of Dean that anything else. The times I glanced his way, he was engrossed in the movie. Then, his phone lit up, and he stepped out of the theater. I had a hard time concentrating on what was happening on the screen when the time went by and Dean didn’t return. Just as the credits began to scroll did he step back into the room. I watched as he stretched and yawned.

Cam jumped up, thrilled with the ending, and didn’t seem to know Dean had been missing for the entire second half of the movie. I said nothing as Cam chatted happily with Dean about the Marvel world and what he and I had just watched. Dean did a good job, following along.

He led us to the door and out to the elevator while they talked. He didn’t look at me or say anything. I had become invisible, it seemed. When the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside, Dean remained where he was.

“Thanks, Dean! Good night!” Cam said to him just as the doors closed.

I said nothing at all, but then again, Dean hadn’t even glanced my way.

twenty-one

dean

I hadn’t been back from California a full day when Mrs. Jo called me to tell me she had a pie for me and I needed to come get it. When I had returned, I’d intended to catch up on the sleep I had missed while under the same roof as Kiro. However, telling Mrs. Jo I couldn’t come down at the moment wasn’t an option either.

Grabbing a discarded shirt from the chair in my bedroom, I made my way down to Mrs. Jo’s apartment. It was eleven on a Thursday, so that meant Brielle wouldn’t be around. She’d be working. I wasn’t sure where Cam went when she worked or if he was in their apartment … or was school back in session? I didn’t know when they started school around here, but I knew Nate had gone back last week. Didn’t matter though. Seeing the kid wasn’t an issue, but staying the hell away from his mama was.

I’d been unable to get her out of my head while in California, but the distance had helped me think through things. I wasn’t what she needed, and she was no longer a hot fuck I wanted in my bed. She was a mom with a great kid who she was raising alone.

Who knew respecting a woman could screw your head up? I wasn’t sure I’d ever taken the time to respect a woman I had fucked or planned to fuck. This was all new to me, and I didn’t know the best way to deal with it. That was why leaving the morning after our movie night had been so vital.

I had felt her looking at me in the theater. I knew she wanted me to look at her. If I’d have sat beside her, she wouldn’t have minded. She had softened toward me after I gave Cam some time and attention. But damn if I was going to take advantage of her because she was grateful to me. Getting the hell out of that theater had been the only thing I could do. If she’d have looked at me one more time, I wasn’t sure I could have kept my distance.

Mrs. Jo’s door opened before I even knocked.

“Come in; come in,” she said brightly.

Her apartment smelled like apple pie and vanilla. I followed her inside, and she closed the door behind us.

“When I heard that motorcycle of yours outside this morning, I went right on to cutting the apples I’d bought at the farmers market. You were gone for too long. I figured you needed a good Southern pie to remind you how much better it is down here. If’n I had to pick a coast and I hadn’t lived here my entire life, I’d still choose the East Coast. Life is just better here. Don’t know why you’d stay gone so long.”

She hurried into her kitchen, and I stood in her living room among the new furniture I had bought her. The place looked much nicer with the fresh paint and light fixtures.

“The way you were looking at Brielle last I saw you, I figured you’d be sticking around here more. But I guess finding out she’s a mama can scare a man off. She’s a package deal and all,” Mrs. Jo said as she walked back, holding a pie with a hand towel under the plate.

I opened my mouth to say something, although I wasn’t sure what to say to that comment. However, Mrs. Jo didn’t seem to need a response from me. She wasn’t done talking.

“No matter. It all works out the way it’s supposed to. Fate has its plan, and that’s the way it goes. That good-looking man who has been taking her out even took Cam last night. They went to that putt-putt place down along the strip. I reckon fate has Brielle going in another direction, although I sure thought it’d be you there for a bit,” she said, then held out the pie to me.

“Brielle is dating someone?” I asked, surprised by this information.

I’d just been gone for three weeks, yet the way Mrs. Jo was talking, Brielle had been dating this guy a lot. What, had she just started dating again the day after I left? Had I read more into her behavior the night in the theater?

“Oh, yes. That nice construction worker. He’s a fine man. Brings her flowers and went swimming with them the last day before Cam started back to school,” Mrs. Jo said. “Take this pie and add some vanilla ice cream to it. That’s the best way to eat it.”

The construction worker. They’d finally had that date, and it sounded like it had gone well. From what Mrs. Jo had said, the man was up Brielle’s ass. Didn’t he have a job? Working for me? When did he have time for all this swimming and putt-putt?

I managed to thank Mrs. Jo for the pie as she walked me to the door. I stepped out into the hallway and expected her to say good-bye and close her door, but she was watching me. Was I supposed to say something else about the pie? I’d thanked her already.

“Fate is what we make of it. We can let it happen, or we can manipulate it. All depends on what you want badly enough. Seeing the future isn’t a gift we’re given. Sometimes, you just gotta listen to your gut, take fate’s handlebars, and steer. But then that’s all up to you now, isn’t it?” Mrs. Jo said, then smiled at me before closing her door in my face.

I looked down at my pie and wondered if she’d truly made me this because she thought I needed it or if it had been a way to get me down here so she could tell me all of that. What had happened to her talk about me not being what Brielle needed?

I started to knock on her door but paused and dropped my hand back to my side. This wasn’t my business. I should be relieved. I should be happy for Brielle. Getting in her way and screwing with their lives wasn’t okay.

Turning to walk back to the elevator, I heard a door open behind me and glanced back to see if Mrs. Jo had decided she needed to say more. But it wasn’t Mrs. Jo’s door. It was Brielle’s.

She stood there, staring at me with those big blue eyes, and I felt something in my chest tighten. Damn her for getting to me.

“Hi,” she said with a small lift of her hand to wave.

“Hey,” I replied, then held up the pie a little. “Mrs. Jo made me a welcome back treat.”

She smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “She’s good about that.”

I wanted to say more. Ask her about the construction worker. Ask how Cam’s first week back at school was. Ask how she was doing. Just listen to her talk. But I did none of those things.

“Tell Cam I said hi,” I told her, then reached down to press the button on the elevator.

“I will,” was her soft reply.

I stared at the elevator doors until I heard her door close. Glancing back, I saw her head to the stairs. She was leaving and had chosen not to use the elevator because of me. I could go after her and apologize. But what would I apologize for exactly?

We hadn’t been dating. I’d had one hot moment with her that I thought about too damn much. That was it. Other than some fun back-and-forth sparring with our words, there was nothing else.

My taking care of her when she was sick had only been because she needed a friend. She needed help. And I was scared that something would happen to her. I had cared.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside.

I still fucking cared. Too much.

twenty-two

brielle

“We are going up there!” Clara said close to my ear as she slid back onto the stool beside me.

I glanced back over my shoulder just as a girl with short, curly red hair was announced. She was going to be singing “Oops! … I Did It Again.”

Shocker. The first karaoke of the night was a Britney Spears song. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my drink in front of me on the bar. This entire night was a mistake. I should be home, watching my television. Possibly eating ice cream or maybe making brownies for when Cam came home tomorrow from his sleepover with Jeremy.

“What song should we do?” Clara asked me.

The guys at the other end of the bar stood up and started heading in our direction. I’d caught the blond one watching me when Clara went to the restroom. It had only been a matter of time before they made a move. I downed the rest of my vodka and soda, then stood up.

“I don’t care. Just try to be more original than Britney,” I told her. “I’m going to the restroom.”

Clara frowned. “You just said you didn’t have to go.”

“That was before we had guys headed in our direction,” I replied.

Clara looked around me, and her eyes lit up. “Oh, they’re cute though. Especially the blond one.”

Good. She could have them both. I was interested in neither. Things were going well with Gavin—or they had been. Even Cam had enjoyed that he was included on some of our dates. I should be happy about that. Instead, I’d made an excuse to Gavin when he asked me out tonight simply because my head wasn’t in a good place.

Dean was back. It had been easy to push him aside and not dwell on him too much when I never saw him. Then, he’d been on entertainment news with the rest of Slacker Demon as their tour was announced. Knowing he wasn’t upstairs had made it easier to compartmentalize him in my thoughts. He was back to being a rock star.

Seeing him yesterday had messed with my head. I hadn’t expected him to return—at least, not anytime soon. Maybe when he came to visit his family.

When Clara had called to ask me to go to karaoke Saturday night at Chandelier, I’d agreed. I’d been weak and needed a diversion.

Gavin deserved more than that. I liked him. He was a good man. He liked me, and I knew it. He made it clear and never kept me guessing. He was a hard worker. He brought me flowers.

He wasn’t Dean. But then that was unfair. No one was Dean Finlay. No one ever would be.

I reached for Clara’s screwdriver and downed it, too, just before the two guys came up on either side of us.

Clara started speaking, and I smiled brightly at both men, feeling slightly buzzed now that I’d drunk two drinks so quickly. My need to go to the restroom was no longer a lie to escape. I gave Clara a wave and walked back toward the line leading to the women’s restroom. The Britney song ended, and I sighed in relief. That had been brutal. Not that I didn’t like Britney—I did. It was just that, tonight, I knew ten other girls would sing a Britney song and butcher it, much like that one had.

I was almost to the line when a hand wrapped around my arm, and I instantly jerked my arm, trying to get it free as I spun around to see who was touching me. I had a can of pepper spray in my purse, but I couldn’t get it out and use it in a crowded bar. Just as the thought crossed my mind, my eyes locked on familiar sunglasses and a baseball hat.

My eyes went wide as I realized who had my arm. I did a quick glance around to see if anyone else realized who he was. In a place like this, he would cause a complete frenzy.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, leaning in so he could hear me over a not-so-bad version of Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts.”

“Where’s the construction worker?” was his reply.

Frowning up at him, I tugged to free my arm, but he kept his fingers wrapped firmly around it. “You do realize if someone spots you, all hell will break loose,” I pointed out.

“Where’s Cam?” he asked this time.

I laughed. I should be mad. He had disappeared and not said a word to me in almost a month. But I was laughing. It had to be the drinks.

“He’s at his friend’s house. Sleepover,” I replied, then looked over at the line to the restroom. “I really need to use the restroom. Can you let go of me?”

Dean’s hand held my arm. “Come with me.” It sounded like an order, not a request.

“I’m not kidding. I need to pee.”

He gave me a single nod and began pulling me toward the back of the club. Where were we going? I needed to get into the line for the restroom. Damn him. Looking toward the bar as I was being hauled away, I saw Clara’s eyes meet mine. She shifted her gaze from me to Dean, and then she smiled back at me.

Seriously? She was supposed to watch out for me. That was our job when we went out. To watch out for each other. She was just going to let him take me and smile about it? Traitor.

When we approached, a bouncer opened a black door that blended in with the walls, then nodded his head at Dean. We went through the door, and I wasn’t sure where we were. This was not a part of Chandelier I had ever seen before.

“Where are we going?” I asked him. “Please tell me there is a restroom there,” I added with emphasis.

A wide staircase appeared as we turned a corner, and Dean led me up them, not once letting go of my arm. At this point, I was more curious than anything. I had come to this club more times than I could count since I’d turned twenty-one, and not once had I seen this part of it. Posters of concerts they’d held here lined the walls. I knew they hosted smaller shows for lesser-known artists, but I had never paid the price to get into one of those.

We reached the top step, and Dean finally released me. I swayed, slightly taken off guard, and he scowled at me.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

I returned his scowl. “No.”

He walked past me and opened a tall silver door. “Go pee,” he said.

Relieved, I hurried through the door and paused. It was a fancy single-person restroom. The door closed behind me, and I locked it, then looked in the mirror at myself before taking care of business. My makeup was more than I usually wore. I’d let Clara do it for me tonight.

The short red dress barely covered my ass. The low neckline and spaghetti straps made it impossible to wear a bra. It was one of many Clara had brought over and the only one that remotely covered my boobs. Even the heels I had on were Clara’s. They were as silver as the door I had walked through, and I liked the way they sparkled under the lights in the club. I never dressed up like this, but tonight, I wanted to be someone else. Clara had made me into someone I wasn’t. It was my night to escape.

Then, Dean had shown up.

I frowned at my reflection then. Why was he here? Had he come looking for me? I hadn’t told anyone where I was going.

I finished in the restroom, then made my way back out the door to find Dean without his cap and sunglasses, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for me. He was dressed like a rock star with his ripped black jeans and leather jacket, no shirt on underneath. He looked hot in something that would look strange on any other man downstairs in the club.

“What are you doing here, and why are we back … here?” I asked him to distract myself from the small silver hoop in his left nipple.

“Where is the construction worker?” he asked me again.

Sighing, I shook my head. “I don’t know where Gavin is. I didn’t ask him what his plans were tonight. Why do you care? Are you interested in him now?”

Dean smirked and pushed off from the wall with his back as his arms dropped to his sides. “God, I missed your smart-ass mouth,” he said.

I shouldn’t care that he’d missed anything about me. I should continue to scowl at him and demand he take me back to Clara. I had a song to sing. I shouldn’t be up here with him.

What I should do and what I already knew I was going to do were two different things. And I would later blame my decision on the alcohol.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him again.

He sauntered toward me, and it was unfair, the way he could make simply walking appear cool. As if it were a sport. One he excelled at.

“I needed to get out. Clear my head,” he said. “But I’m so fucking lucky that while I was trying to clear my head, the object that wouldn’t get out of it appeared at the bar.”

I tried not to dwell on the fact that he was talking about me. That it made my insides tingly and warm. I would blame that on the vodka too.

“What if someone had noticed you?” I asked him.

He placed a hand on my lower back and led me toward another door. “Unlikely,” he replied. “I wasn’t down there until I had to be. Until I saw something I needed to go get.”

Dean pushed open the door, and I walked inside. There was a clear view of the entire club from the floor-to-ceiling window that was at least ten feet long. I frowned, trying to think about how I’d never noticed this before. Had it been because I never looked up, or was it a two-way mirror? If people could be seen up here from below, someone would have noticed by now.

“Want a drink?” Dean asked me.

I turned to look at him as he walked over to a full bar against the right wall. There were also eight red leather chairs sitting around the room and a large bearskin rug in the center of things. I hoped it was fake. The lighting in here was dim with only two floor lamps on the back wall.

“What is this?” I asked him.

“It’s the owner’s lounge, where he lets his favorite guests hang out,” Dean told me.

“Of course you know the owner,” I said.

He walked over to me with a glass of ice water. “Drink this. Hydrate.”

I looked at the water and started to argue but figured he was right. I should drink water. I took the glass and then drank deeply before walking over to study the club below. It took me a few moments before I found Clara on the dance floor with the blond guy from the bar. Karaoke was on a break, and music was being played by a live band.

“How do you know the owner?” I asked Dean without looking back at him.

“Jimmy is a friend of my son and daughter-in-law,” he replied.

I hadn’t expected that answer. I’d figured it had to do with Slacker Demon or his fame.

“So, you were up here and saw me?” I asked him, finally turning from the scene below to look at Dean.

He had taken a seat in one of the chairs and was watching me as he drank what looked like whiskey in his glass.

He simply nodded.

“Why did you come get me?” I asked him then.

He took a drink, then said nothing for a moment. I thought he wasn’t going to answer when he finally replied, “I didn’t like it.”

“Didn’t like what?”

He didn’t hesitate this time. “That,” he said, waving his hand in my direction.

I glanced down at myself, then back at him. “You don’t like my dress?” I asked him for clarification.

He stood up, then set his glass on the small table beside his chair. His eyes were locked on mine. “I love the fucking dress. I didn’t like that everyone in that bar was getting to see you in it. Is that what you want to hear? You want me to admit it, Brielle? Tell you that I didn’t want others looking at your hot little body? That I didn’t want men fantasizing about getting their hands on you?”

I shook my head.

Dean took a step toward me, tilting his head as he moved closer, and then smirked. “Yeah, it is. That’s exactly what you wanted to hear.”

I was struggling for words as I stood there, looking at him. Yes, hearing him say it made me feel things inside I shouldn’t. This was Dean. A man I should keep my distance from. He could confuse my future. He could destroy the life I had built for me and Cam. This was a bad idea for more reasons than he realized.

But just like it had in the times before, my body didn’t agree with me. My heart raced as he moved closer to me, and I wanted things that were best left alone.

Dean stopped as he reached me, and I watched in fascination as he shrugged out of his leather jacket. The corded muscles on his arms were those of a younger man’s. The tattoos covering his body only accented his well-defined chest.

He placed his left hand on my waist, then looked down at my breasts as he pulled me to him. “I tried,” he said in a husky whisper. “I even left town. I did shit I don’t want to admit. None of it worked.” He lifted his eyes to meet mine. “You won’t get out of my head, Brielle. Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

I didn’t think he wanted an answer. Not that I had one. All I could do was stare up at him. This was different. It wasn’t like before. This could be a huge mistake. It was a mistake, and we hadn’t done anything.

He lifted a hand and ran his pointer finger along my collarbone, then brushed his thumb over the swell of my breasts. “I need to fuck you like I need to breathe,” he said, moving his gaze from my breasts to my face again. “You have a power over me, and I don’t like it, but I am starting to accept it.”

Again, no words. I had no words. What did I say to this? No? I wasn’t strong enough to say no. Not here. Not in this moment. Not after I had thought about him for weeks. Not when I had spent my days pushing him from my mind, only to hear one of his songs or see … something that reminded me of him.

“Later, I want you naked in my bed. I want hours to taste you, explore you, sink myself inside of you. But I can’t wait,” he said, brushing hair from my shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you now. This dress, those goddamn heels,” he said as his hand wrapped around my upper arm again and jerked me flush against him. “I need that pussy gripping my cock, Brielle. I want to come with you crying out my name.”

I trembled. My entire body gave me away. His words were making me feel weak and needy, all at once. I was glad he was holding me so tightly because I wasn’t sure I could stand without swaying.

He slid his other hand up my side, then cupped my breast. “You want it, too, don’t you, baby?” he asked, pleased by the way my body was responding to him.

His chest smelled like the leather he’d been wearing. I wanted to stick my tongue out and taste him. See if he was salty from sweat. Inhale his scent deeper. The tenderness between my legs ached.

This was a bad idea I wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Fuck,” he swore, grabbing my waist and spinning me around to face the crowd below.

Then, his fingers found the bottom of my dress, and he pulled the fabric up to my waist. There were many things I should be concerned with in this moment. However, my choice of panties wasn’t one of them. I’d worn my tiniest pair, so there would be no panty line under my dress.

“Jesus Christ,” he swore as his hand ran over my bare butt cheeks.

When he slid a hand between my legs and under the strip of silk that was there, I gasped, and my knees buckled.

Both my hands went out and touched the glass in front of me. I stared down at the people dancing below as Dean thrust a finger inside of me.

“Soaked,” he groaned. “That’s it, baby. Ride my hand. Give me that sweet, hot pussy.”

He was the only man who had ever said words like that to me. Hearing his voice say dirty things made me more desperate. I loved it. I shouldn’t have loved it. I should have been running from it. But it was Dean.

My panties were jerked down my legs until I felt them at my ankles. Dean’s hands ran down the backs of my legs.

“Step out of it, but don’t take off these heels,” he said.

I lifted my left foot for him to pull it free, then my right. Turning my head to look back at him, kneeling down behind me with my panties in his hand, I watched him as he lifted them to his face and inhaled deeply. His eyes met mine, and I felt my entire body flush with heat. Not from embarrassment, but pure, sexual need.

Dean stood up then and tucked my panties into his pocket before going to the button on his jeans. I watched, transfixed, as he unzipped them, then shoved them down his thighs along with his boxer briefs. The thick, hard shaft that sprang free didn’t frighten me. I licked my lips that were dry from my heavy breathing.

“Later,” he said, smirking, then grabbed my hip with his right hand and pulled me back toward him.

His gaze dropped to the space between my legs, and he ran the tip of his cock along the needy, now-swollen area. I shifted, opening my legs more, and leaned forward, pressing my palms against the glass.

Then, with one rock of his hips, he was filling me.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

A cry of pleasure and pain came from my throat. It was a good pain. Being stretched to accommodate his size.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s a tight pussy,” he said, moving back just until he was almost out of me before sinking back in with a hard thrust. “Fuck, Brielle,” he growled. “I knew this pussy would be good, but damn it, baby, this is …” He trailed off as he began pumping inside of me harder.

I moaned and cried out his name, which made him grow wilder, more intense.

“Hottest damn pussy I’ve ever had,” he said, slamming into me as my body climbed toward an orgasm I knew was going to bring me to my knees. “That’s it, baby. Squeeze that dick. Come all over it.”

If he kept talking like that, I was going to any second. My hands fisted against the glass, and I cried out his name. My body began to shake, and then the building inside of me exploded as I jerked back against him several times. My knees buckled, and his arm wrapped around me while he thrust into me a few more times before pulling out.

“FUCK!” he shouted, then moaned as warmth hit my lower back and bottom. “Shit,” he said, sounding as if he was struggling to breathe.

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the glass. Nothing was going to be the same. Nothing.

twenty-three

dean

I hadn’t even thought about a condom. I always used a condom. There was one in my wallet, but I hadn’t considered it. Nothing had mattered once I got a look at her bare ass, except being inside her. Now, as I looked down at my semen all over her gorgeous ass, I hoped she wasn’t mad because, damn, I had to do that again. And again.

Her age no longer mattered. I didn’t care that she was a single mom. Hell, move Cam into my penthouse. I just wanted her in my bed. I had to fuck her again. If I fucked her enough, then I might be able to get her out of my head.

She started to stand up, and I put my hand on her back.

“Wait,” I said, keeping her there, then jerked my jeans back up before walking over to the bar to grab a hand towel.

The view of her leaning against the glass with her legs spread and my cum all over her was the best damn porn I’d ever seen. Jesus, she was going to kill me, and I was going to enjoy every minute.

I cleaned her up and then tugged that tight red dress back over her bare ass. I was keeping the panties. They’d smelled like her arousal, and I wasn’t willing to give them up. They were mine now.

I dropped the towel to the chair beside me, then pulled her back against my chest and wrapped both my arms around her waist.

“I’m clean,” I told her. “I never go unprotected, and I get checked yearly.”

She nodded her head that rested against my shoulder. I could feel her heart still beating fast. “Me too,” she said, slightly breathless. “I’m clean, that is. I haven’t had sex in … a while, and I’ve been checked since then.”

This wasn’t the conversation I wanted to be having with her after mind-blowing sex. I wanted to make her promise me things. Like how we would be doing this again tonight in my bed, my sauna, my Jacuzzi, the shower, those kinds of things. But I wanted her to know I cared. I wasn’t just throwing my bare dick around.

“That’s not gonna be enough,” I told her. “You know that, right?”

She stilled and then took a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

“You just gave me something I’m gonna need more of,” I told her.

She moved then and turned slightly so she could look up at me. “Sex?”

“That wasn’t just sex,” I told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That was superior fucking. Your pussy just might be addictive.”

She laughed then, and her already-flushed cheeks got brighter.

Brielle wasn’t just beautiful. She was stunning. The kind of beauty that made men weak. Controlled them. Yet she was twenty-eight and single. How the fuck was that? Why hadn’t a man gotten a taste of her and laid a claim?

The door behind us opened, and I glanced back to see Jimmy walk inside.

He grinned at me, then shook his head. “I came to get a drink. Didn’t know you’d brought in some company,” he said.

Brielle broke free from my arms and spun around, straightening her dress. I saw the moment she remembered she no longer had on panties. Her eyes shot up to mine, then back to Jimmy. She blushed a deeper shade of pink, then smiled nervously.

Jimmy was a beautiful man. He knew it, and he had used it to his advantage in life. Once, he’d been a server at the Kerrington Country Club when he was younger. Then, he got into a relationship with a wealthy, much older man. Although they never married, he bought Jimmy this club, which Jimmy renamed and turned into the hottest club on the Florida Panhandle. Five years ago, the man had died from a heart attack and left Jimmy everything.

He was known as Uncle Jimmy to my grandkids, and he was a well-respected resident in Rosemary Beach. I, however, knew of his dark side. He enjoyed some hard-core stuff in his private suite he kept here. There were whips, chains, and other crazy shit he used with his willing boy toys. He’d said he wasn’t settling down again until he had to.

“Brielle, this is Jimmy. Jimmy, this is Brielle,” I said.

Jimmy winked at Brielle. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t look like you just got caught by your mama in the hayloft. He’s a hot piece of ass,” Jimmy told her.

Brielle let out a startled laugh. Jimmy gave her his most charming smile.

“Tell me it’s as good as I’ve fantasized about,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Easy,” I warned him.

He looked at me, then shrugged. “Fine. Take away my fun.”

“You have plenty of fun,” I drawled. “Thanks for letting us … visit,” I said, reaching out to take Brielle’s hand. “But it’s time to go.”

Jimmy gave me a sly, knowing grin. “Uh-huh,” he said. “I see.”

I picked up my jacket and slid it back on but left my jeans undone. I pulled Brielle closer to my side, sliding a hand around her waist.

“It was nice to meet you, Brielle. I hope to see you again,” Jimmy called as he walked over to a chair and sank down into it, then crossed his legs.

“You too,” she replied.

“Later,” I said, lifting a hand as we walked toward the door.

I wanted to get Brielle out of here and back to my penthouse. Tomorrow would come too soon, and I had to see if I could fuck her out of my system tonight. After what I’d just gotten a taste of in that room, I doubted a month with her locked in my bedroom would be long enough.

“He’s nice,” she said simply as we walked down the stairs toward the employee entrance.

“Yeah,” I agreed, not wanting to talk about Jimmy. I had other things I wanted to talk about. Most of which were descriptive things I wanted to do with her.

“I need to tell Clara I’m leaving or where I’ve been,” she said, pausing, as if just now remembering her friend was here.

“She knows,” I told her.

Brielle stopped walking and looked up at me with uncertainty in her eyes. “How?”

“On my way to get you from the restroom line, I sent one of the servers to tell her you were with me,” I explained.

A frown formed between her eyebrows. “You told her before you found me?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“You assumed I would go with you?”

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I didn’t assume anything. I knew,” I whispered near her ear. “You ever ridden a motorcycle?” I asked her then.

She stiffened, then shook her head.

I moved her toward the exit while she was processing that question and what it meant. We reached my Harley, and I took my helmet and placed it on her head. I’d rather protect her than myself.

“I don’t think this is safe,” she said, looking up at me.

“You’re safe with me, I swear,” I assured her while zipping my jeans up. I climbed on the bike and held my hand out to her. “Come on. Open those gorgeous thighs and wrap them around me.”

She swallowed nervously, then placed her hand in mine and pulled up her dress so she could open her legs. I heard her gasp and realized her bare pussy was pressed against my jeans. This time, it was me who was swallowing hard.

I looked back at her and grinned. “I’m about to make that pussy wet again.”

Her eyes widened as I started the engine, then ran my hand up her bare thigh. This was going to be foreplay I hadn’t intended. I’d end up fucking her in the damn garage before I could get her to my bed.

Moving both my hands to the bars, I tried to focus on driving and not the fact that she was straddling me with no panties on. It was impossible not to think about.

twenty-four

brielle

When Dean pulled into a garage hidden under the apartment complex, I was so close to an orgasm that my heart was pounding against my chest and my breathing was hard and fast. One more second on that thing with its vibration while I was pressed against Dean’s ass, and I’d have reached my climax.

Dean held out his hand for me to take and climb off, but I wasn’t sure I could move just yet. Being so close to coming and then it not happening had me slightly off-kilter. I took his hand but didn’t move. He looked at me, and then it was him who moved. He was off the bike, and then he was picking me up and pulling me from the machine.

He didn’t stand me up though. He sat me on the bike, facing him, took off my helmet, and tossed it aside. Then, he spread my legs open before stepping between them. It was barely lit down here, and the shadows over his face made it hard for me to see his expression.

His hand slid between my legs, and he ran his fingertips along my overly aroused area.

“AH!” I cried out, shutting my eyes tightly. It wouldn’t take much, and I’d be there.

“Naughty girl,” he said in a husky whisper. “Were you about to come on my bike?” he asked, shoving a finger inside me.

I could barely breathe. I was gasping, and I grabbed his arms to steady myself.

“If you’re gonna come on my bike, it’s gonna be with me. Not all by yourself,” he said, and then I heard the zipper of his jeans and wanted to whimper in relief. “Open wider for me,” he ordered.

Then, his hand was gone, and I felt his thick warmth pressing at my opening.

I did as he’d said, and our bodies slapped against each other, echoing in the garage as he sank deep inside me.

“YES!” I cried out loudly, loving how good it felt. Having him fill me with the smell of his leather jacket as it pressed against me.

“You got your wetness all over my seat,” he said, pounding into me fast and hard. “Such a bad girl. Your naked little ass on my bike.”

I held on to him and tilted my head back to look up at him in the darkness. He pulled my dress up more until my stomach was bare, and he ran his hand over me.

“I was gonna fuck you naked. In my bed. So I could see you,” he said with a growl at the end. “But I can’t even get there without needing you again.”

I lifted my knees slightly, trying to get him even closer, and it made him shout a curse. It had caused him to sink deeper. My head fell back, and I heard myself plead with him. I was begging him to fuck me harder. I was saying things that didn’t sound like me at all. Every time I said something, it made him handle me rougher and more out of control.

“Come for me, baby.” It was a demand, and my body responded as I screamed out his name.

I began to jerk against him as each wave of pleasure rushed through me.

“FUCK! ARRRRRR!” he roared, and he jerked back from me. Holding my arm to keep me from falling as his other hand grabbed his cock, he shot out his release down my thigh and onto the ground below.

All that could be heard was our gasping for breath. I was thankful for the darkness. It gave me a moment to collect myself. To process what we’d just done. Again.

Several moments went by before Dean moved. He wiped his hand on his jeans, then tugged them up with one hand while still holding me with his other. He didn’t bother with buttoning them. Instead, he reached for me and picked me up from the bike, then stood me in front of him while he pulled my dress back down.

“Thank you,” he said, surprising me.

I looked up at him, confused.

“That was a fantasy I hadn’t known I had,” he replied.

A small laugh bubbled out of me then, and even in the darkness, I could see him smirk.

“Let’s see if I can get you to my apartment without fucking you in the elevator,” he replied with an amused tone.

I wasn’t sure I’d mind. I’d never had sex in an elevator, but then again, I’d never had it in a club or on a motorcycle before either. Tonight was a night of many firsts. In the back of my head, I knew I might regret this all tomorrow, but tonight, I wasn’t going to let that ruin the moment. Even if this was a moment that should have never happened. Many moments that I should have stopped.

Dean’s hand slid to my lower back, and he led me toward an elevator. This wouldn’t go to the rest of the building. It was on the wrong side for starters. This was his private way to enter and leave his penthouse. No one would catch us if we did have sex in the elevator.

When the thought made me tingle between my thighs, I worried about my sudden behavior. I had just had sex with the man. My orgasm had been incredible. I should have been exhausted.

“What are you thinking?” Dean asked me as the elevator doors opened, and the light made his features clear for the first time since we had arrived.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” he said, pressing his fingers into my back as we moved into the elevator.

I didn’t argue with him because he was right. I was a liar. In more ways than one. Even if it had never been intentional.

The doors closed, and Dean turned me around to face the wall. The excitement that I was about to get what I’d been hoping for caused my heart rate to speed up again. Then, the zipper on my dress slid down. Dean reached around me to tug the front down over my breasts, and then he tugged it down again until it fell to the floor, pooling at my feet.

I was completely naked. I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling vulnerable. There was nothing covering me. I was bare to him under the unattractive, bright lights of the elevator.

He ran a hand down my side slowly, just as the elevator doors opened. His right hand slid over my stomach and lay flat on it as he leaned closer to me and took a deep breath.

“I can fuck you right here, or we can go inside. To my bed.”

“Your bed,” I replied.

My elevator fantasy could wait. Being in his bed was something I wanted more.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Then, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the elevator, through the door leading into his penthouse, and without stopping, he led me back down a hallway and through double doors that were painted navy blue.

I didn’t get much of a chance to take in the massive bedroom. The king-size bed that sat in the center of the room was unmade and had black satin sheets. That was the only thing I noticed before Dean turned me to face him, then grabbed a handful of my hair before covering my mouth with his. I matched the hunger I felt in his actions with the same desire pulsing through me.

The kiss went from excited to wild as he bit my bottom lip, then sucked my tongue into his mouth. He cursed as he tore his mouth from mine and stared down at me. He said nothing, and we stood there like that for several moments before he stepped back and jerked his leather jacket off, tossing it to the floor, then slipping his boots off and stripping his jeans down. Never once breaking our eye contact.

“Get on my bed,” he said.

I backed up and sat down on the end of it, then slid back.

“All the way. Lie down. I want to see you on my sheets, naked. I’ve jerked off, thinking about it enough. I need to see the real thing. Because not one of my fucking fantasies measured up to the reality.” His eyes dropped to my breasts. “Those tits. Jesus, Brielle.”

The gleam of appreciation and want in his eyes made any worries I had about my body evaporate. He liked what he saw. He didn’t seem to notice my flaws. I scooted back, then lay back slowly on the cool sheets.

Dean didn’t move at first, and my gaze slid down his body. Past his flat, toned stomach to the part of him that never seemed to grow tired. I was thankful for that.

“I swear I’ll feed you next,” he said.

“I’m not hungry,” I told him. At least, not for food.

“You need your energy. This is going to be a long night,” he replied.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from saying more. I didn’t want this night to end. In the morning, things would look different. Dean would see things differently. Tonight, he wanted me, but I knew I wasn’t enough to satisfy him for long. I had chosen to do this. To give in and do what I wanted, not what was good for me.

“Bend your knees,” he said, sliding his hand up my leg from my ankle and stopping mid-thigh as I did what he had told me.

When he lowered his head between my legs, I didn’t have time to respond before his tongue flicked my clit, then began running along the tender flesh.

My hands found his hair, and I threaded my fingers through his short locks. “Dean,” I moaned, and he slipped a finger inside me while still pleasuring me with his mouth.

His other hand slid up my stomach until it covered my breast, and he began pinching my nipple and rolling it between his fingers. My hands moved to the sheets as I fisted them while squirming. I didn’t want to come yet, but somehow, he was bringing me to it again. Three times in one night. He was going to beat my vibrator’s record after this.

Just as the bubble burst inside me and I cried out my release, Dean was over me and slamming inside of me. Once again bare. Nothing between us. I knew he had condoms here, but I didn’t care. I wanted the contact. He’d said he was clean, and I had an IUD.

His arms flexed as he held himself up, and he stared down at me, licking my juices from his lips as he did so. He began moving slower this time, and I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts. Our gazes stayed locked, and something deep inside me clenched. Acknowledging it would mean opening myself up to a world of pain. I wasn’t a young girl anymore. I had a child, a job, a life that I had made for myself.

Dean wasn’t asking to be a part of that, and he’d never fit into it anyway. This was a night of debauchery. I couldn’t feel something more than lust and desire.

“I’ll wear a condom next time,” he said in a tight voice.

I touched his arm, wrapping my fingers around it. “I have an IUD.”

His eyes flared, and he growled as he began moving faster. His thrusts became harder.

“Lift your knees,” he said, leaning down over me as his chest brushed mine. “I’m gonna mark this pussy. Unload inside of you and then fuck you some more,” he said near my ear, and I whimpered at the thought. “That’s it. Take my cock,” he said as his body slapped against mine.

The smell of sex filled the room. Sweat, arousal, and always leather.

twenty-five

dean

I drank my coffee while standing in the doorway to my bedroom. Brielle was sleeping soundly, curled up near the center of the bed. Her hair was spread out over my pillow and hers. I’d gone to sleep, holding her against me as if I were afraid she would leave. There was no way she could have walked away after all the sex we had. My legs even felt weak this morning.

I had wanted her, and I’d had her … eight times last night. That should be enough. We’d fucked all over this damn penthouse. I should be ready to give her a cup of coffee and send her back to her apartment. It was what we both needed me to do. It was what Cam needed me to do.

But, fuck me, I wasn’t ready to let her go. She made my bed so damn appealing that I wanted to go curl my body around hers and hold her until she woke up. She was going to be sore, but I could enter her easily. Slowly slide back and forth into her as I brought us both to another orgasm.

“Jesus,” I swore under my breath and ran a hand through my disheveled hair.

What was it with her? Why couldn’t I get enough of her? She wasn’t some groupie or a fling. She was a mom. She had a kid. She was almost half my age. I had to get that shit through my head.

I had come inside her without protection. Sure, she had an IUD, but still. I’d lost my damn mind. I wanted her to have me inside her. Some caveman shit came over me, and the idea of filling her with my release made me crazy. I’d had to do it over and over.

She was making me act like someone I wasn’t.

Going back to Beverly Hills had crossed my mind when I opened my eyes and saw her lying there beside me. My dick had gone instantly hard, and I’d had to get out of bed before I woke her up, fucking her. Cam would be home today. I couldn’t keep her up here to be my own personal cum bank. I winced as my cock jerked at the thought. I was a sick bastard.

I wasn’t running away again. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I wasn’t going to be able to run from her this time. Just looking at her lying there, I felt possessive. I didn’t want another man touching her. The sound of her cries when she climaxed were mine, damn it.

I glared down at the cup in my hand and considered putting whiskey in it. I needed something.

The sound of her yawn got my attention, and I stepped back away from the doorway and walked toward the living room. She didn’t need to wake up to me watching her sleep. She’d get ideas. She’d realize she was in my head. Those were things I would deal with, but she didn’t need to know.

I sank down onto the sectional and propped my legs up before taking another drink of my coffee. She’d be up soon, and I was anxious about how she’d react. Part of me wanted her to bolt to save me from more stupid decisions. The other part of me wanted her naked and in my lap while I worshipped her tits and she rode my dick.

Yeah, I needed some fucking whiskey.

“Do you know where my dress is?” Her voice was thick from sleep.

I didn’t move. I shrugged and then glanced over at her. She was wrapped in my sheet. Jesus! I looked away from her.

“I think we got rid of it in the elevator maybe?” I replied, then took a drink of the coffee to keep from looking at her again.

“Okay,” she said, then moved across the room toward the door that led out to the elevator.

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath. I would not get up and go touch her. I wouldn’t offer her something to eat. She was getting dressed and leaving. There were no morning-after expectations from her. She wasn’t trying to embed herself into my life by making me breakfast or walking around in my shirt. She was leaving. Smart girl.

When the door opened back up and she walked out, she was dressed, carrying my sheet in her arms. “I’ll just go put these back and get my things,” she said, barely looking my way.

Damn. She was nervous. Unsure. I’d had her in every position I knew all over the place last night. She had to be sore in more than just between her legs. I was treating her like a groupie.

I dropped my feet to the floor and stared toward the hallway a moment, trying to decide what was best. I didn’t want her hurt. I cared. There, I’d fucking admitted it. I cared. I liked her. My cock loved her. She didn’t deserve this awkward morning-after shit.

When she walked back into the living room, she had her purse over her shoulder and her heels in her right hand. She gave me a tight smile, then began walking to the door.

“Brielle, wait,” I said, stopping her.

Then, I stood up as she turned back to look at me. There was a sadness in her eyes that felt like it was slicing open my chest.

“I’m trying to figure out how to do this right,” I explained.

Her smile softened, but the sadness in her eyes remained. I needed that to go away. My chest couldn’t take that. I didn’t want to see her sad. Especially because of me.

“It’s fine. I knew … what I was doing last night. I knew that the morning would come.”

No. I shook my head. That was not what she should know. She shouldn’t have expected to be treated like that. Like this.

“We need to talk. Come to the kitchen. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

A real smile touched her lips then, and I was relieved to see her eyes twinkle with amusement.

“You’re going to make breakfast?” she asked teasingly.

This was better. I could take a deep breath again.

“I can make eggs and toast. It’s not fancy, but it’s good,” I told her.

She laughed softly, then shook her head. “As much as I’d love to have some of your eggs and toast, I need to go. I’ve got to pick Cam up in an hour, and we need to go shoe shopping. His feet have grown another size in a month.”

I didn’t want her to go. I wanted to hold her here. But she was a mom.

I nodded. “Okay. Another time then.”

She blushed slightly, then nodded but said nothing before turning back to the door to leave. I wanted to say more. Ask her if she and Cam wanted to come watch another movie. One I wouldn’t walk out on. But I said nothing. I just let her go.

twenty-six

brielle

I tried to stay focused on shoes while Cam tried on several different pairs. The ones he really wanted were out of my budget. I’d just bought him a pair last month, but he’d had an overnight growth spurt, it seemed, and we were back, needing another pair.

My thoughts kept going back to this morning. The awkwardness. The regret in Dean’s eyes. That had been the hardest part. Going from last night to this morning had been painful. The lump in my throat had stayed in place until I saw Cam and he reminded me of all I had to be thankful for.

My phone buzzed with a text, and I glanced down at it to see Gavin’s name. Cam and I were supposed to go to a movie with him tonight.

I didn’t have the heart to cancel and disappoint Cam, but how was I supposed to look Gavin in the eye after last night? It wasn’t that we were exclusive. He’d never said we were.

We had only been dating for a few weeks. He didn’t call or text every day. It wasn’t a relationship. I had done nothing wrong … at least to him. Even though I had taken a shower, I still felt as if I smelled of Dean. Was it right to have sex all night with one man, then go out with another the next night? I didn’t know if there was an answer to that.

“Mom?” Cam said, and my gaze snapped up from the text to look at my son.

“Yes?” I asked him, smiling.

He frowned, then held up the tennis shoes in his hands. “Can I get these?”

I picked up the box to check the price, and although they were over the fifty-dollar limit by twenty bucks, I decided to give in. He wasn’t getting the two-hundred-dollar pair he wanted badly, the ones he would only look at but never ask for. He knew I couldn’t afford those, but these I could manage.

“Sure. We can get those,” I agreed, and the salesclerk took the shoes and put them back in the box.

“I’ll go pay,” I said, then followed the clerk to the counter.

My phone buzzed again, and I sighed, glancing down to see another text from Gavin. I unlocked my phone and read his text, asking if six was still a good time to pick us up tonight. Before I could overthink it anymore, I simply replied yes, then slipped my phone back into my purse and pulled out my wallet to pay.

Once I paid, I took the bag to Cam, who was at the door, looking out at something.

“Whatcha looking at?” I asked him as I handed him the bag.

Cam swung his gaze back to me and shrugged. “Nothing. Just a guy I know from school,” he replied.

I looked over to where he had been focused and saw a boy about his age with a man who must have been his dad. He was teaching the boy to change a tire. The truck they were in had a flat. The man slapped the boy on the back, and the kid grinned up at him. It was a father-son moment.

The lump in my throat was back. Not once in Cam’s life had he ever said anything about not having a dad. Even when he had been little and his friends all had fathers, he never brought it up. But he was getting older. I had noticed that, with Gavin, Cam clung to the attention he gave him. There was no hero worship in his eyes, like there was when he spoke to Dean, but Gavin wasn’t his hero. Gavin was a man who could be a dad. Did Cam want that? Was I no longer enough? He didn’t need me as much anymore. He was growing up, and with that, he wanted more.

I knew how to change tires. I could teach him, but I knew that wasn’t what had drawn his attention. It was the father-son moment he thought he’d never have.

We walked to the car in silence. I wasn’t sure what to say or if I should let it go. Not bring it up. He hadn’t wanted me to know what he’d been watching. I knew, in his head, he was protecting me. He wanted me to believe I was enough. Right now, I just wanted to hug my little boy and stop time.

Once we were in the car, I looked over at him. “Want to go get pizza?” I asked him, knowing his favorite pizza place was right around the corner.

He cut his eyes to me. “Mom, we just bought shoes. We can’t afford pizza too. I’m good with a grilled cheese at home. Besides, isn’t Gavin taking us out tonight?”

There had been a time when he didn’t understand money, and he’d have jumped on the chance to get pizza. He wouldn’t have known that it would be a stretch for me after spending seventy dollars on shoes. Another sign he was growing up. This summer seemed to have aged him several years.

“Gavin might want to take us to get pizza,” I agreed as I turned back toward our apartment.

“Do you like Gavin?” he asked me.

I hadn’t expected this question from him. I thought about it a moment. I did like Gavin. He was nice. He was attractive. He was good with my having a kid. However, I was never going to do more than like him. There were no butterflies or lust-fueled moments.

“He’s a nice man,” I replied.

“I know that. But I was asking if you liked him, liked him,” he said.

I glanced over at Cam and frowned. “Uh, well—”

“Do you like Dean?” he asked me before I could think of the correct answer.

I felt my cheeks warm, and I sputtered, unsure of why he was bringing up Dean when he hadn’t seen him since the night in his penthouse.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

“I didn’t say anything,” I replied defensively.

“You didn’t have to. Your face told me.”

I focused back on the road. “I am sure most females on earth like Dean,” I pointed out.

“Probably. He’s famous,” Cam agreed.

“Gavin is a much more sensible person to focus on,” I explained, maybe more for myself than for Cam. He hadn’t asked me who was sensible.

“Yep. Gavin isn’t famous,” Cam replied.

No, he wasn’t. He also had never starred in one of my fantasies. Those seemed to all be centered on Dean. More so now than they had been when I was younger.

“Do you think we can go see Slacker Demon in concert this winter when they have a stop close to here?” he asked me. “I’ve always wanted to go to a concert, and it would be super cool if I could see Dean onstage. It could be my Christmas present. I wouldn’t want anything else.”

Those tickets would be hard to get. I hated to promise something I might not be able to do. Yes, I could ask Dean to help me land two tickets, but I felt weird, asking him for anything now. After … last night.

“I don’t know if Santa does concert tickets,” I replied, not wanting to tell him no.

He sighed, and I thought he was going to say more, but he just nodded his head, as if he understood. He didn’t. I knew he didn’t. I would work some nighttime delivery shifts until I had enough to buy the tickets. I’d make it happen.

twenty-seven

dean

I slowed my bike as I turned to cut through the cars parked out front to get to my private drive leading to the garage when I saw Cam sitting on a bench with his sticks, playing a rhythm on his knees as he looked out over the parking lot. His gaze met mine, and he lifted a stick to wave at me. I waved back, then drove my bike over to where he was sitting.

I had taken a drive to see if it could clear my head of thoughts of his mother. It hadn’t worked. I was about ready to not give a shit and let it be. Who cared about age? It had never bothered me before. Sure, she had a kid, but I liked him. He loved the drums. We had a connection. What was so wrong with the idea? God, I was losing it. The woman had a magic vagina after all.

I stopped in front of Cam and turned off the bike, then pulled my helmet off so he could see my face. “How’s it going?” I asked him.

He smiled at me, then shrugged. “Good. I’ve been working on that riff you showed me. I think I got it,” he replied.

I felt guilty for not showing him more. I’d promised I would, and then I’d just left. I was a jackass. “I’ll have to come hear it. There’s a backbeat I can show you.”

His eyes widened. “Really? That would be awesome.”

“Why don’t I call your mom? You two can come up tonight. We can play some, then watch a movie.” And there it was. I was going to do this. I wanted Brielle. I wanted all of her. Screw good decisions.

Cam’s face fell then, and I paused, not expecting that. Had Brielle said something about not seeing me again? Fuck that shit. I’d go see her sexy ass right now. We would clear that up real damn quick.

“We can’t tonight. We have a … thing,” he said, looking deflated.

What thing?

“How long will it last? You could come up after.”

I wanted her in my bed tonight. The guest bedroom was on the other side of the penthouse. It was all fixed up for Nate when he visited. Cam would like it. There was even one of those new game stations in there with a flat screen.

“It’ll be late. We are going to the eight o’clock movie,” he said.

“Movie in my theater is free. I’ll talk to your mom,” I assured him.

His shoulders rose and fell with another deep sigh. “Yeah, well, the movie we are going to is free too. Gavin’s paying for it.”

Gavin. The construction worker. What the fuck? My hands fisted at the idea of Brielle being near Gavin—or any man for that matter. Like hell was she going out with him tonight. She’d pay for even considering it. I’d spank her bare ass until it was bright red before I licked her pussy, then fucked her until we were both coming.

I stuck my helmet back on. “I’ll talk to your mom,” I told him again, unable to sit here any longer and let Brielle think she was going somewhere with another man.

I’d fucked her sore last night, and she was gonna go on a date with another man tonight?

I started the bike, then drove it unnecessarily fast into the garage, then parked it. Jumping off, I looked down at the seat where Brielle had been less than twenty-four hours ago and cursed again. Grabbing my phone from my jeans, I didn’t bother texting. I called her.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded unsure as she answered the phone.

“Come up here,” I said, trying hard to contain my anger.

“Excuse me?”

“Brielle, get your ass up to my place now, or I’ll come to you,” I said through clenched teeth.

She hesitated. “Okay,” she replied, then ended the call.

I punched the elevator button, then stepped inside as my cock thickened in my jeans. The damn thing knew she would be here in a minute, and it was excited. Damn her magic vagina and pretty blue eyes. I was too old for this shit.

When the elevator doors opened, I stalked into my penthouse and toward the entrance door, jerking it open just as Brielle stepped off the elevator. She paused and stared at me. She looked nervous. She should be nervous. She should be worried about her sweet little ass because I was going to spank it.

I stepped back and waved a hand for her to enter. She came to me reluctantly. I gripped the door handle hard to keep from reaching out and grabbing her.

Mine. That was mine. She wasn’t going to date the damn construction worker. He wasn’t going to get a taste of her pussy. I was claiming it like the goddamn caveman she’d turned me into.

I shut the door behind me with more force than I’d meant to, and Brielle jumped and spun around and looked at me with those big, innocent eyes. As if she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Take off your shorts. Panties too,” I ordered.

“What?” she replied, taking a step back as I took one toward her.

“You heard me,” I said as she backed up again until her back hit the wall.

“Dean,” she began, and I put my finger over her mouth.

“Don’t talk. Just take off the shorts,” I demanded.

She swallowed hard but didn’t move. “Why?” she asked in a whisper.

I leaned down so close that our mouths were almost touching. “Because if I don’t spank your ass until you cry out, I’m going to start breaking shit,” I told her.

“Oh,” she whispered. “You’re angry.”

I tucked her hair behind her ear. “No. I am fucking furious,” I replied calmly. “Take off the shorts, Brielle.”

She still didn’t move.

Damn stubborn woman.

“Why do you want to hit me?” she asked.

“Spank. Not hit. It’s a spanking,” I corrected.

“Fine then. Why do you want to spank me?” she asked.

I reached down and slid my hand between her legs, and she gasped.

“Because this is my pussy. I shot my load into it. Over and over again. Yet you are going to let another man take you to a movie? Take off your shorts,” I repeated.

Understanding slowly crossed her expression. “I thought—I mean—I didn’t think …” She paused and licked her lips. “I thought that was a one-time thing.”

Unable to wait any longer, I grabbed her shorts and jerked them down, and she yelped, startled by the sudden movement. They fell down to her ankles, and I ran a finger along the lace of her white panties.

“I needed time to think,” I told her. “You fucked up my head.”

I grabbed the sides of her panties and pulled hard once, ripping them loose and letting them fall down to the floor with her shorts. “I had just woken up, and my dick was hard, wanting to sink inside of you again. Women don’t get under my skin like that. It was new. Confusing. But I’ve had time to think it through.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

“I’m not sharing,” I warned her.

She didn’t say anything. I picked her up and tossed her over my shoulder, and she squealed in surprise.

“Dean!” she said, hitting my back with her hands.

I stopped at the sofa, then put her back down. I sat on the sofa, grabbing her wrist and tossing her over my lap.

“Dean! You can’t be serious,” she said breathlessly.

She was excited. She couldn’t cover that up.

I ran my hands over her ass and back. She was trembling under my touch. I moved my hand up to her hair and then pulled it back until she was looking at me.

“Mine,” I repeated, then let her hair go and raised my hand for the first swat across her soft flesh.

She cried out, and I did the same thing to the other cheek. Both were a nice pink, and my dick throbbed. I took turns in slapping each side as her startled cries turned into moans. Pausing, I moved my hand between her legs to find her pussy soaking wet. Damn, she was perfect.

This time, she cried out my name as I shoved my fingers inside her. She’d taken her spanking, and now, I would make her come.

“You liked it. Naughty girl gets off on her ass getting spanked,” I said as I fingered her pussy.

She was panting and rocking against my hand.

“Fuck my fingers,” I said. “Come all over them.”

She said my name as she rocked faster against my hand.

“That’s it. Ride my hand like you’re gonna ride my cock tonight.”

She shouted my name as her body tensed and her warm entrance squeezed my fingers. I ran my other hand over her bare ass, caressing the pink flesh where my handprint still lingered. When she calmed, I moved her so she was cradled in my arms. She closed her eyes tightly, and I smiled at the look on her face.

“I can’t believe I did that,” she said.

I ran my thumb over her bottom lip. “It was hot. So damn hot that you’re forgiven. Now, go break the date. Tell Greg that you’re no longer available. Ever.”

“It’s Gavin,” she replied.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s God. Call that shit off.” I softened the demand by pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She sighed against me. “Okay,” she agreed, and in that moment, all was right with the world.

twenty-eight

brielle

There were some things I didn’t know how to explain to my son. My choices today were one of them. He hadn’t asked me or even been upset at the change in plans. He’d been thrilled at getting to spend time with Dean again. I could hear the drums as I finished cleaning up our dinner. They’d gone in there after we ate pizza, which had been ordered from Cam’s favorite place and delivered to Dean’s penthouse.

I wiped down the table and loaded the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher but didn’t turn it on because there were no buttons. No controls at all. I wasn’t sure how to make it work. I’d ask Dean later. Unable to stay away any longer, I followed the sound of the music to Dean’s drum room.

He had left the door open to it, and I wondered if that was so I could hear them or he could hear me.

This afternoon hadn’t been what I expected from him. I had been preparing myself for him to leave town again, not for him to order me up to his penthouse and spank me. My face heated, and I bit my bottom lip at the memory.

I stopped just before I got to the door and peeked around the corner at them. Cam was sitting on the stool, and Dean was behind him, showing him something he was calling a riff. I’d heard Cam talk about that before. Cam was completely engrossed in all Dean was saying.

Had I never noticed how much he looked like his father when he was focused? It was unmistakable at the moment.

I stepped back and closed my eyes.

Dean had changed the game today. He’d made my decisions harder. Watching him with Cam made that even more difficult. There was no instruction book for how to date a rock star … or was there? I should Google that.

Dean’s voice as he praised Cam made my heart feel as if it would explode.

I would not cry. I would not cry.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself before stepping into the room where I could be seen. Both sets of eyes looked up at me. I looked from Cam to Dean.

“Mom, listen!” Cam said as he began to play what Dean had taught him.

It was good. No, it was excellent. He had talent. I wasn’t an expert at the drums, but even I could tell he was gifted. at this.

“The boy is going places,” Dean said, squeezing his shoulder. “I threw some advanced stuff at him just to see what he could do, and he’s a natural. It comes to him like it’s a part of him. You’re born with that. It’s not taught.”

The lump in my throat was so big that it felt as if it could be seen by others.

“Listen to this!” Cam said and began to play something that sounded familiar.

It took me a moment to realize he was playing a Slacker Demon song. I lifted my eyes to Dean’s, and he was watching me. He winked, and I knew that every single shred of common sense, self-preservation, and promises I’d made to myself had all vanished.

I had fallen in love with Dean Finlay, but it wouldn’t be a fairy tale. I knew that. The truth would change it all.

“Ready for that movie?” Dean asked me once Cam finished.

“What are we watching?” Cam asked.

“Whatever you want to watch,” Dean told him.

“Awesome,” Cam replied, standing up and handing the drumsticks to Dean.

Cam rushed past me and headed toward the theater.

Dean was beside me then, and his hand slipped around my waist. Then, he pressed his face into my neck and inhaled deeply. “Go take your panties off,” he whispered in my ear.

I jerked my head around to look at him.

“Cam will sit in the front row again. He won’t be looking to the back row to see where my hands are,” Dean whispered.

I shook my head. I was not doing things with him while Cam was in the room.

Dean smirked at me knowingly. “Bra then?” he asked.

I shook my head again and shoved at his chest before walking in the direction of the theater. Although I was hoping Cam didn’t choose a long movie. My head was already in Dean’s room with him.

Cam chose Thor, and although I enjoyed watching Chris Hemsworth as much as the next girl, I had a real-life Dean Finlay sitting beside me in the dark with his hand between my thighs. I was ready to end this torture and be alone with him.

Cam was asleep before it was over. He had been up late last night, playing video games at Jeremy’s. I was surprised he had made it through the first half before falling asleep. When his head fell forward, Dean stood up and went to pick him up.

I followed behind him. When Dean laid him on the guest bed, I took over, tucking him in. There was a Superman night-light, and I glanced at it, knowing this room was meant for his grandson. Dean walked to the door and waited on me. Once we were both out in the hallway, he closed the door.

“I need a shower,” he said.

That was not what I had expected him to say.

“Okay,” I replied, hoping he took a quick one.

“With you in it,” he added. “I want to fuck you under the hot water, then wash you.”

Yes. I wanted that too.

“Only if I can bathe you too,” I replied.

He grabbed my hand and all but pulled me back across the penthouse to his bedroom.

“Get naked,” he said as he closed and locked the door behind us.

I gave him a saucy smile, then walked toward the master bathroom. Complete with the biggest shower I’d ever seen. White marble was everywhere. On the floor, the walls, the shower. I began slowly unbuttoning the top part of my shirt dress as Dean jerked his shirt off, then tossed it on the floor before moving on to his jeans.

“Better move faster, baby, or I’m ripping it all off your hot little body,” he warned me.

I liked my dress, and as exciting as him ripping my clothes off sounded, I was on a budget, and destroying my clothing was not in that budget. I stopped my teasing striptease and moved quicker. Dean was naked, walking over to the shower to turn on the water. I got distracted by his bare ass. It was firm and muscular. It was also tan, which meant he either lay out naked or went to a tanning bed.

I looked up at the tattoo under his left shoulder, and memories of the first time I’d seen it came back.

Dean turned around and caught me looking at him. “Time’s up,” he said and took three long strides to me. His hands were on my shirt dress that I hadn’t taken off completely yet.

“No, wait,” I begged. “I like this dress.”

He paused and then shoved it back so it slid down my arms. Then, he pushed it down over my hips, and I stepped out of it.

“How much do you like those panties?” he asked me.

He’d already stolen one pair and ripped another pair.

“My panties are already dwindling because of you. Constantly replacing them is not in my budget,” I told him, grinning.

His hands went to the sides of my panties, and he ripped them, then pulled them off me. I looked down at them, then back at him.

“I’ll buy you all the fucking panties you want,” he said.

Then, he grabbed me and pulled me against him, and his mouth covered mine. I went up on my tiptoes and leaned into him as his hands began to unfasten my bra. When it was loose, he stepped back and pulled it from me.

Then, he pointed to the shower. “Get in and face the wall.”

I did as he’d ordered and pressed my front against the marble, expecting it to be cool but surprised that it was warm already. My palms lay flat against the wall, and I turned my head to the side, watching as Dean came up behind me.

His hand ran over my bottom. “I spanked you too hard,” he said gently. “My handprint is still there.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said, liking the idea of his mark on me.

“My handprint on your ass, my cum inside you,” he said, moving until his erection was against my back. “It makes my territorial tendencies with you worse.”

“Good,” I breathed.

I wanted him to mark me. I loved him.

He reached down and took my leg, then placed my foot on the built-in bench beside us. I looked over my shoulder at him as he slowly pumped his cock while looking at me, open for him. I wanted to beg him to fuck me, but I waited, transfixed by how his hand looked, rubbing over his thickness.

“Ask me for it,” he said.

I lifted my eyes to his. He had been watching me watch him.

“Please,” I begged.

He shook his head. “Please what?”

“Please give it to me,” I said, not sure exactly what it was he wanted me to say.

“Give you what?”

“Your cock,” I replied.

“Good girl,” he praised, then ran his hand down my back before cupping my bottom. “I jerked off twice this afternoon, smelling you on my fingers,” he said, moving behind me until the tip of him brushed against me. “Are you sore? I’ve fucked you so much that you’ve got to be sore.”

I shivered. “I am, but I like it.”

He pressed inside of me but just the tip. Nothing more. “You like being sore from my dick?” he asked me in my ear.

I nodded and panted, wanting him to do more.

“Do you think of me when you’re walking around with a sore pussy? Do you think about how much cum I’ve filled you with?”

I nodded again, but this time, a moan followed.

“I want to fuck you so hard that I break it. Do you want me to break it?”

I didn’t know what breaking it meant, but I nodded anyway.

“God!” he hissed between his teeth as he slammed into me. “I love this pussy!” he groaned.

His hand slipped around me, and he pressed it against my stomach, then slid it down to rub against my clit. Our wet bodies slapped together each time he entered me. I cried out from the pleasure of him filling me and touching me at the same time. It was too much. I was drowning in the sensation. Climbing to something I wasn’t sure I would survive.

“Feel good, baby?” he asked as he pinched my clit, then rubbed it between the pads of his thumb and pointer finger.

I moaned his name. I slapped at the wet marble under my palms. My breasts swayed with each thrust, and I wasn’t sure my legs were going to hold me when I met the explosion that was building inside of me.

“My pussy. Mine,” he said as he began to quicken his pace.

He shouted as the first shot of warmth filled me, and I came with him in that moment. My head fell back against his shoulder, and I jerked against his chest while my hand covered the one he was using to please me with. His arms held me up as every muscle in my body seemed to give out on me. I shivered again and whimpered as one last wave washed over me.

His hands held my waist as he pulled out of me. I wanted to protest. When we were joined, nothing else mattered. I didn’t fear loving him, I didn’t fear the future, and I didn’t fear the truth.

It was when the orgasm faded and my body felt cold that those things came back to me. Taunting me. Reminding me that, eventually, this would all change.

twenty-nine

dean

I had known she wouldn’t be in my bed when I opened my eyes. She’d explained that when Cam woke up, she needed to be sleeping in the third bedroom. I disagreed. The boy needed to know the truth about us, but Brielle refused. She’d said it was too soon. I felt like she was trying to say she didn’t trust that this would last. That was the part I had the hardest time with.

That, and I’d woken up hard and wanted to bury myself inside her.

Brielle was waiting on me in the living room when I walked in there. She was dressed and drinking a cup of coffee. I looked around for Cam but didn’t see him.

“Good morning,” she said, standing up as I approached her.

I pulled her to me and pressed a long, hungry kiss on her mouth. She looked flushed when I pulled back.

“Morning,” I said, then took her cup from her hand to set it down.

“I can’t stay. I already sent Cam downstairs to get dressed. I have to go feed him, then send him out to the bus,” she said.

“Then, come back to me,” I added.

She smiled and pressed a hand against my chest. “No. Then, I have to go to work.”

Fuck. Work. I’d forgotten about that. She had to work.

“Call in sick,” I said.

She laughed, then slipped away from me, putting space between us. “I can’t. It’s not summer hours anymore. The campus is full of students, and I am needed.”

“I need you,” I told her.

She sighed and stepped toward the door.

“We can’t … you know … all the time,” she said.

“Fuck?” I asked when she couldn’t say the word.

She blushed again and nodded.

“Oh, baby, but I can. When it’s you, my dick doesn’t seem to need a break.”

She laughed and turned for the door. “I have to go, Dean.”

I hated work. I wanted her here. With me. All the time.

Whoa … I needed to stop and process that. Did I really want that? Was I completely pussy-whipped? Was that what they called it?

I didn’t go to the door when she opened it. I watched her as she stepped out and waved to me.

“I’ll see you later,” she said.

I gave a nod and watched as she closed the door. Standing there, staring at the door, I waited to see how I felt. What this was exactly.

I looked down at my cock, and it was hard. That was a given. Then, I lifted my gaze back to the door, and I felt … I felt … fuck me. I missed her. I missed her smile. I missed the sound of her voice. Dammit to hell, I missed her and not just her body. I missed her.

I let my head fall back as I closed my eyes and cursed again. “Motherfucker.”

I’d gone from telling her that her pussy was mine during sex to wanting to claim all of her. All the time.

How the hell did I get here?

Shit.

I headed for the kitchen windows that overlooked the main road. Then, I stood there and waited. Finally, I saw Cam come running across the parking lot with his backpack on his back just as the school bus rolled to a stop outside. He turned and waved. Brielle had walked down with him. I saw her as she stepped farther out into the parking lot. She called something to him, and he nodded, then climbed onto the bus.

My eyes went back to her. She waited until the bus completely pulled away before turning and walking back to the building.

She was a great mom. Cam was a special kid. He had talent. Real talent. He impressed me, and that had nothing to do with my obsession with his mother. He was fucking gifted on the drums.

Was I ready for this? To be a stand-in dad to a kid? Did I want this?

I wanted her. I wanted her so fucking bad that I was thinking long-term.

Nothing had to be decided today. This was new. It could all get old, or we could get bored. It couldn’t be love. Sure, I loved having my cock buried in her pussy, but that wasn’t being in love. I was thinking too far in advance. We had time to let it all play out.

I turned and headed for the shower. I needed to rub one out and get dressed. There was a Kerrington Country Club board meeting this afternoon, and I had been on the board for the past nine years. I could go visit Rush and see my youngest granddaughter, who wasn’t in school yet. It would get my mind off Brielle.

Would I introduce Brielle to my family? She was younger than Rush and Blaire. Not that Rush would be surprised by my fucking a woman her age, but I’d never dated one. I didn’t bring women around my family. I was thinking ahead again. There was plenty of time to work this out. No reason to make it all fit now.

thirty

brielle

“Is Dean coming to dinner? I got great news, but I want to tell you both at the same time,” Cam announced as he bounded into the kitchen, full of energy.

“Yes, he’s coming,” I replied, already knowing his good news. I’d gotten a call from his band teacher today.

I hadn’t told Dean about it. I wanted to save that for Cam. I knew Dean would be here tonight.

For the past two weeks, he’d been coming here for dinner, or I’d been cooking dinner in his penthouse. We had been spending every night together. We had even learned how to have sex quietly in my bedroom. Although, more often than not, Dean covered my mouth with his hand.

I kept waiting for Dean to grow bored with me … us … the routine that was our life. He hadn’t yet.

While I was at work, he texted me often. Most of the time, it left me blushing and smiling. That hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others in the office. When they asked me who it was, I always said it was just a friend. What more could I say? I couldn’t tell them the truth.

Most days, Dean had Cam come up to his penthouse to work on the drums until I got home. Cam rarely finished a sentence lately without Dean’s name in it. That was something I was dealing with internally. I hadn’t expected this day would come, and now that Cam was living in a world with Dean in it, I grew more anxious with every passing minute. What would happen when this ended? How would I explain things? Should I? Would it cause more harm for Cam than not?

Having your mother date your idol was a dream come true for a boy, but what did it become when he found out that his idol was his father?

October 16, 2012

Bradley hadn’t waited on me. I didn’t know if I should be hurt or not, but it wasn’t my boyfriend’s fault I didn’t have a phone. I hadn’t been able to call him and let him know I’d be late. My foster mom, Gail, had refused to let me come tonight. She would have had to cook the kids dinner and get them ready for bed. Heaven forbid she help them with their homework. It was the only reason I didn’t think she’d kick me out next month when I turned eighteen.

Gail made her living off the state. She was a foster parent, and the checks she got for it were what paid her bills. Right now, she had five kids under the age of ten, and three of those were under the age of five. She needed me to take care of them.

I had asked that she just let me go this once to a concert.

Bradley had gotten Slacker Demon tickets and was going to take me for an early birthday present. I’d never been given a birthday present before, and this was the best gift ever. Today, he’d acted strange, but then again, he had been doing that the past few weeks. He was hot or cold. It was confusing.

Most of last year, he had pursued me. Begged me to go out with him. When I’d finally given in and started sitting at his table at lunch, things had progressed quickly. Bradley was popular, and suddenly, so was I. Problem was, I didn’t have a life like the others in his clique did. I was expected to go home and work. There were no parents buying me a phone or a car.

I’d overheard Jilly Connor, who was supposed to be my friend, tell Hannah Matthews that the only reason Bradley was dating me was because of my body. He liked my boobs, and she didn’t see why. She said they were too big and that I dressed trashy. I wore the only clothes that I had, and, yes, they were getting too small, but Gail wasn’t going to replace them with ones that fit me properly. She would have to spend money to do that, and she saved her money for her cigarettes and wine.

The only real friend I had was Natalie Brock. She had been my friend for years. Well before I started dating Bradley. She was the only one who understood what my life was like. Natalie wasn’t a foster kid, but she lived with her stepmom, and her father was often absent. She struggled to fit in too. The others would never understand.

I could hear the music from outside the entrance to the outdoor coliseum where Slacker Demon was playing tonight. Bradley was inside already, and I felt bad that he’d wasted money on an unused ticket. If I could just find someone who could go tell him I was out here, then he could come get me.

There was no one out here but security. I walked along the boardwalk that surrounded the place. Every entrance was guarded with police officers, and I considered having one of them go find him. I knew our seat numbers. I didn’t even know what time it was now. The concert had started two hours before I was able to sneak out, but there were always openers. I didn’t care about them anyway. It was Slacker Demon I wanted to see.

I tugged on the sleeveless black knit dress I was wearing. It had fit me fine two years ago when Natalie gave it to me to wear to a birthday party. Now, if I tugged it up to cover my cleavage, it was too short on my legs. If I tugged it down to keep it from being too short, my boobs looked like they were about to fall out.

I stopped and looked around the parking lot. There were thousands of vehicles on the property. Could I even find Bradley’s car among all of them? I could leave him a note. Explain what had happened.

Laughter caught my attention, and I turned toward the sound, hoping it was someone I knew. As if God had heard my prayers, there was Hannah and Jilly with some guy I didn’t know. They were with other girls from Bradley’s group of friends.

“I swear to God, he is into slumming it. I think it’s the pressure his dad puts on him. He has to rebel somewhere in his life,” Jilly said.

I walked up to them. “Hey!” I called out to get their attention since they were walking away from me.

All of them turned, and when Jilly’s eyes locked on me, she grinned. It wasn’t a friendly smile. It was a scary one. The kind that came with trouble.

“Ah, look, his latest castoff,” Jilly said, slinging her hair behind her back and placing a hand on her hip.

I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but I ignored it. I needed a favor, and this was my only chance. “Can you get a message to Bradley for me?” I asked as sweetly as I could.

Please let Jilly be in a good mood. Please, God.

She laughed. “Sure.”

Relief flooded me. “Let him know I’m here. I’m late, and he has my ticket inside. Or could I call him from your phone? That would be better.”

She laughed harder this time. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Oh, sweetie, he doesn’t have your ticket. He used it to get Natalie—you know, your best friend—into the concert with him.”

Natalie? Did he call her, and when I couldn’t come, he offered her my ticket? That would make sense. He didn’t want it to go to waste.

“Oh, well, can I call him at least? Please. I need to apologize and thank him for giving it to Natalie.”

Jilly wasn’t the only one who laughed this time. They all did. One girl even covered her mouth and started to leave.

What was so funny? I was asking to borrow a phone. Why did they all have to act so ridiculous?

“You can call him, but the last time I saw him, his tongue was down Natalie’s throat, and his hand was on her ass. He didn’t give her your ticket because you hadn’t shown up. He’d invited her weeks ago. They just didn’t tell you. Oops,” she said, then placed a hand over her mouth, as if she were shocked.

I stood there, trying to process it all. The group continued to giggle and laugh as they turned and walked away, back inside to the concert, while I was once again alone, looking like a fool in a dress that I had hoped Bradley would like even though it didn’t fit.

I began to walk. I wasn’t sure where I was walking to. I was in shock. The more I walked, the more I realized it was Natalie I was hurt over. She had been my best friend for years. Bradley had just been a boyfriend. I wasn’t in love with him, but I had given him my virginity. He had begged me for sex until I caved a few months ago, and we started doing it whenever there was a chance. We didn’t get many of those. Not with me being unable to leave the house when Gail was awake.

I wasn’t sure how long I walked when I stopped and noticed the cars were gone and the lighting wasn’t as good. I didn’t know where I had turned, and it looked like I was in the back of the main facility instead of the front. I had to get back to Gail’s, but first, I had to figure out where I was. I could deal with my heartbreak from Natalie’s betrayal later.

“Sexy and brave,” a deep voice said from somewhere in the shadows.

I spun around until I saw a puff of smoke under a light coming from inside. I stood there, unable to see a face, but I was sure I should run or scream.

“I was looking for someone,” I said hastily.

“Like I said, brave,” the voice said again.

I backed up as the orange glow from the end of the cigarette moved closer.

“You found me, sugar. Or were you looking for Kiro?”

It was then that the owner of the voice stepped into the moonlight, and Dean Finlay’s face came into view before he took another pull from his cigarette—oh, wait. The smell … that wasn’t a cigarette.

I shook my head to clear it. Was this real?

The drummer for Slacker Demon was just out here, where anyone could come upon him.

“You’re supposed to be onstage,” I blurted out.

He chuckled. “Is that so?”

I nodded, staring at him, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was talking to Dean Finlay.

“Concert is over, sweetheart. Weren’t you in there?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “I, uh … I didn’t have a ticket.”

That was the truth. I’d never had a ticket, it seemed. Natalie had.

“You just came to find us then? Smart. Most of the groupies are already inside. Why didn’t you join them earlier?” His gaze fell to my chest. “Deet would have let you in. He knows my type.”

I didn’t know who Deet was or what he was talking about, but Dean Finlay was looking at my boobs. My dress no longer felt like a bad choice.

“I was headed to the bus. I didn’t feel like company tonight, but you changed my mind,” he said, closing the distance between us. He cupped my face with his hand and studied me. “How old are you?”

I didn’t think. I didn’t weigh the consequences. Dean Finlay was flirting with me, and if I told him I was seventeen, he’d stop. He wouldn’t keep talking to me. This would end. I never expected much excitement in my life. So far, it had been full of disappointments and struggles. Just this once, I had a chance at something exceptional happening to me.

“Twenty-one,” I replied.

He grinned. “I always pick the young ones,” he said, then grabbed my left boob and squeezed it. “But, fuck, you’re sweet.”

I was sure I’d forgotten to breathe.

Dean moved then, placing a hand on my back and taking me with him. We walked past two large buses before he stopped at one and hit the door once with his open palm.

It opened, and Dean took my hand and pulled me inside.

“Go,” he said to a tall, slender man with a strange goatee.

The man nodded. “Yes, sir.” Then, he moved to the door we had just entered through.

“It’s been a long few months. I’m tired, sugar. Help me out and take that dress off for me. I want to see those big-ass tits,” Dean said as he sat down on a black leather sofa.

I froze. He wanted me to get naked. Did that mean he wanted to … have sex with me? Dean Finlay? I’d only had sex with Bradley. I wasn’t sure I wanted to ever have sex again. I hadn’t enjoyed it. But this was Dean Finlay. I was in his bus.

“Baby, you don’t have to play shy. I’m fucking turned on. Those big blue eyes and that rack on you have me ready to fuck. Now.”

In life, we weren’t always given time to make decisions carefully. We had to act or move on. I knew this was one of those moments. I could take off my dress for the world’s most famous drummer, or I could walk out of this bus.

His silver-gray eyes watched me as I reached for the hem of my dress. Swallowing hard, I took a deep breath, and I lifted it up, pulled it over my head, and dropped it to the floor of his bus.

“Jesus,” he muttered, standing up then and walking over to me.

His hands felt rough against my skin, but it excited me. I was doing this. Tonight, I’d lost my best friend and my boyfriend. I wasn’t sure if I’d have a place to live next month. When I turned eighteen I doubted that Gail would let me stay. But right now, I was going to have sex with a rock star. Not just any rock star, but the one I had been obsessed with since I’d heard their first song. Just this once, I was going to be Dean Finlay’s groupie.

When he rolled off me, then promptly passed out, I stood up, and I noticed the broken condom still on his penis. I reached down to touch between my legs and felt more wetness than should have been there. Holding out my hand, I saw the evidence on my fingers.

thirty-one

brielle

Cam’s father one day coming to lay claim on him or fight me in court for custody was never a fear I lived with. Telling a man who had slept with a different woman every night for most of his adult life that your kid was his seemed cliché.

I’d tried to contact Dean when I was younger. Back when I had nowhere to live and a baby on the way. I left a few messages on the band’s contact page on their website. I also used the mailing address that was for their fan mail to tell him about the pregnancy.

The last attempt I made was when Cam was one and I had no money to buy him milk. I was young and naive then. With time, I realized Dean, along with the rest of the band, must have gotten letters and accusations like that all the time. I doubted Dean would remember that night or the broken condom. I’d never imagined I’d see him again.

When I’d been told he was coming to the college to have lunch with the president after making some huge donation, I’d wanted to get Cam his autograph. The man whose DNA was the reason he loved the drums so much was going to be within my reach. Cam had wanted it because that same man had become his idol.

The turn it had all taken this summer wasn’t something I could have prepared myself for. Now, I had let it go on so long that I wasn’t sure how to begin to tell Dean. Or Cam. I didn’t know if it would be good for either of them. I’d been lying to them both. Withholding a truth from them. Something I knew with absolute certainty.

Cam was Dean Finlay’s son.

It had been over two months since I’d had sex with Bradley when I slept with Dean on his bus. Bradley had worn a condom, and it hadn’t broken.

Nine months, three weeks, and a day after I slept with Dean Finlay, Cam had entered this world. I cried because I didn’t know how I was going to take care of him and because I hadn’t known I could love so strongly. I’d never loved anyone like that. His little hand grasped my finger tightly, and I knew then that I would do anything I could to keep him safe.

The delivery nurse, Janie Meadows, had just celebrated her sixty-third birthday the day before Cam was born. She took us home with her, and we lived there for the first ten months of Cam’s life. Janie was good to us. She helped me find my feet and get my GED. She instructed me on getting food stamps and help from the state. When she died from the cancer I hadn’t known she was hiding, she had left what little money she had to me and Cam. It had been the only thing that kept us off the streets.

For years, I’d told Cam stories about Janie. Telling him she had been our guardian angel. I often wondered if she would be proud of me now. I liked to think she would be.

One thing I knew for certain was, Janie would tell me that it was Cam’s right to know his father. No matter how Dean took the news. Even if I turned whatever feelings Dean might have for me into hate. Possibly disgust. My not telling him and Cam was selfish. I knew it. I just didn’t know how to begin. Where to start.

The more time I spent with Dean, the harder and harder that conversation seemed.

The door opened, and my internal struggle was halted by the face I had grown to love. I’d never meant to fall in love with him. Out of all the men in the world, he was the last one I should have given my heart to. He was the one that could destroy me. Destroy everything.

“I was hoping for a happier look on your face at the sight of me,” Dean said, closing the door behind him as he studied me.

I pushed all of those thoughts back and smiled at him. “Sorry. Long day. My head was somewhere else.”

“Clearly, I’m needed here,” he said, closing the space between us.

When his hands touched my waist, I glanced up at him and knew that even if I lost this—him looking at me as if he wanted me, as if I mattered to him—I loved him too much to continue lying. Cam needed to know him for who he was, but first, I would have to tell Dean. Let Dean decide how to tell our son.

He lowered his mouth to mine, and I let myself enjoy the kiss as if it were the last one. I clung to him, wishing it were different. That life hadn’t put me in this situation. I had known getting too close to him was dangerous, but I’d done it anyway. I had let all my guards down and fallen in love with him. He pulled back slowly and stared down at me.

“Please tell me we are alone,” he said in a husky voice.

I shook my head, and he groaned.

Smiling, I stepped back just as I heard Cam’s footsteps running down the hallway.

“Dean!” he called out happily. “You are not going to believe this! The junior high marching band instructor came to hear us play today since we will be moving up next year, and he asked me after band practice if I wanted to step up this year. He said I could march this season at the JV games.”

Dean walked over to him and gave him a high five. “That’s fucking incredible!” Dean said. “When is the first game?”

“They’re ordering me a uniform. He said I could start next Thursday. He said if I keep showing this kind of talent, I’d be moving up to the varsity band before I even got to high school.”

Hearing it come from Cam and seeing the excitement on his face made me tear up again. I’d choked up after talking to his band teacher. But I was closer to tears now, seeing Cam so proud as he told Dean.

“Mom, are you crying?” he asked me with a smirk.

I shrugged, then sniffled and wiped at the stray tear that had broken free. “Maybe a little,” I said, then walked over to him and hugged him to me. “I am so proud of you,” I said as I held him tighter than he wanted me to. Especially in front of Dean. It wasn’t cool for your mom to hug you.

I hated how that had changed and how life went too fast and took turns you weren’t ready for.

thirty-two

dean

Brielle had been different last night. I didn’t know what it was, but something wasn’t right. Sex had still been incredible. She’d still fallen asleep in my arms. I just couldn’t get an easy feeling about things. We had been getting along so damn smoothly.

I woke up, excited about my day, about seeing Brielle, working with Cam on the drums. They were the biggest part of my life now, and I wasn’t sure when that had all happened.

I’d gone from wanting to fuck Brielle endlessly to needing her near me all the time. I hated when she was at work. I missed her. I counted down the hours until she came home.

She was coming up to the penthouse as soon as Cam left with Jeremy for a campout that Jeremy’s dad was taking them on. Cam had been talking about it all week. I’d taken him to get a good sleeping bag and some other supplies. Brielle had offered to pay me back, and I’d bent her over the sofa and fucked her until we were both screaming our release.

The knock on the door before she opened it always made me smile. She knew my code. She knew she didn’t have to knock. She did it anyway. I couldn’t decide if I was going to strip her naked and take her to the sauna first or make her talk to me. Get off her chest whatever it was that had been bothering her.

When she walked into the living room, I could see on her face what we would be doing first. She was ready to talk. Whatever it was, I wanted to get it out of the way. This was our alone time, and I wanted every second of it.

“What is it?” I asked her, walking over to take her hand. “Get it out. Something has been heavy on your mind since yesterday. I’ve seen you get distracted before, but not like this. Let’s hear it, so I can fuck you.”

She laughed then, but it didn’t reach her eyes. What the hell was wrong? What could be this … holy fuck.

I grabbed her arm then and looked into her eyes. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” I asked.

I’d shot so much cum into her that I wasn’t sure the IUD could handle it all. I was fifty-three years old. I was too old for a baby.

She laughed loudly, then covered her mouth with her hand. Those big blue eyes staring up at me. I let out a sigh of relief. That was clearly not it.

“Okay, I take that as a no,” I replied, grinning at her amusement.

“Can we sit?” she asked me then.

This seemed serious. As in I can’t do this anymore, we need space serious. That wasn’t going to fucking happen.

I looked at the sofa and back at her. “You’re not ending this,” I told her.

She gave me a sad smile and shook her head. “No, Dean, I am not ending this.” But the way she said it sounded as if there were unspoken words left hanging.

I walked over to the other side of the sofa and sat down. Spread my arms across the back of the sofa and propped my feet up onto the ottoman. “In that case, spit it out, so we can go fuck,” I said, then winked at her.

She walked over as if she were going to sit, then paused. I watched her take a deep breath.

“Okay, I need to go back in time. Bear with me,” she said.

I nodded, waiting for her to say more.

She opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head and closed her eyes. “I don’t know where to begin exactly. I’m sorry. I thought I did, but now, I’m not sure.”

“Just talk, baby. You’ve got my full attention,” I assured her.

“That concert of yours I didn’t go to,” she began.

I nodded my head in encouragement.

“Well, I didn’t get inside, but I did walk around outside. I was so lost in thought, trying to accept my best friend was inside with my boyfriend and that they’d been messing around behind my back for a while.” She waved a hand, as if that was unimportant. “Anyway, I got lost. It was dark, and then a man spoke up. I got nervous, realizing I’d walked away from the cars and security to the back of the coliseum.

“The man was alone and smoking a joint. He talked to me a moment, and then he walked into the moonlight. I was speechless. There before me was … you.”

Me? I frowned and waited for more. Why was she just now telling me about this? It seemed strange. I wanted to ask, but I needed to hear more.

“We talked. You thought I was a groupie. I didn’t correct you. I was young,” she said.

“How young?” I asked.

“Seventeen.”

My stomach knotted up, and I swore. “Please tell me I didn’t fuck you.”

She took a deep breath, and her gaze leveled on mine. I had my answer. I had fucked a seventeen-year-old kid.

“I told you I was twenty-one,” she said. “You’d asked, and I lied. I had known you wouldn’t keep talking to me if you knew my age.”

“And I believed you?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

I ran a hand through my hair and dropped my feet to the floor, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. I needed to hear all of this, but there was a part of me that wanted her to stop talking now. I wanted to end story time and go fuck the grown Brielle.

“We went to your bus. You had me take off my dress for you. Then, you took me to a bed, and we had sex. You passed out right after you climaxed and rolled off me. I stood to leave.”

She stopped then and closed her eyes. Her body was strung so tight that I was afraid to hear what more she had to say. This wasn’t going to be a funny story. It wasn’t something that we were going to laugh about, then go fuck. She was about to change everything. I could feel it. The tension in the room was too thick.

My hands clenched into fists as I waited, terrified of what she was going to say.

“The condom was broken. There was cum between my thighs.” She swallowed hard, and then she looked at me, her eyes now wet with unshed tears. “Nine months later—” she said and then covered her mouth on a sob.

I sat there, numb. What she was telling me sank in. Questions started to add up in my head. But nothing came out. I just sat there. My gaze dropped from her to the wall behind her.

Finally, after several moments—I wasn’t sure how long we’d stayed there, silent—I asked, “Are you sure he’s mine?” I didn’t look at her when I asked it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her. The lies. Everything I’d believed about her no longer held up. I was questioning it all.

“Yes,” she whispered.

I managed to nod, then ran a hand over my face. I was stunned. I had never been this stunned in my life.

“I’ll need a paternity test done,” I said then.

She let out a shaky breath. “I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t want child support, Dean—”

I stood then, anger slowly building inside of me. I swung my gaze back to her. “This isn’t about you, Brielle. It’s about the fact that you claim I have a son I didn’t know existed. A boy who needed to know his dad. I want a motherfucking paternity test. If he’s mine, he needs to know. I need to know. You took nine years from us.”

Tears were running down her face now. I couldn’t comfort her. Not now. Not after this.

“I’ll set up the test. Have him here tomorrow at noon. We will do it then,” I said to her.

I wanted to ask her if she’d tried to get in touch with me. I wanted to know why she had waited until now to tell me. Had she meant to suck me in with her body and my need for her first? Had that all been a part of her plan?

“You need to leave,” I said instead of asking her anything more.

Right now, she was the last person I wanted near me.

She didn’t say anything as she turned to go. No attempt at explaining. No apologies. She just left silently as I stared out the window, thinking back to every conversation I’d had with her since I’d walked into that office.

If she had been the woman I thought she was, she’d have told me about Cam. She’d have found a way to reach me. She wouldn’t have kept that from me. Kiro had several kids, and all his baby mamas had been able to reach him. To let him know his kid existed. Brielle had done nothing.

Nothing.

thirty-three

brielle

Standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, I stared at my reflection. My eyes were swollen and puffy from crying myself to sleep last night. I reached up to brush my wet hair. I’d hoped a shower would make me look less of a mess. When Cam returned home, I couldn’t look like this. He would get worried. He’d ask questions. He was going to ask questions anyway when we went up to Dean’s penthouse for a paternity test.

I gripped the brush to my chest, and my eyes welled up with tears again at the thought that Cam could turn away from me too. He wanted a father. I knew that. How would he react when he found out the guy he worshipped was his father and I had kept that from him for nine years? Would he hate me too?

A tear rolled down my face, and I wiped it away. I had to get control of myself. Cam needed me to be strong and levelheaded. I had to protect him. It was my job, although right now, I felt like a complete failure at it.

Dean couldn’t even look at me after I told him. When he got the results back and saw that Cam was his son, then what? He would get him every other weekend, and we would be awkward around each other, barely speaking.

I didn’t want that, but then I hadn’t wanted to fall in love with the father of my child either. As crazy as it sounded, I had known better. I had fought against it. Then, he’d made me love him anyway.

This wasn’t about me anymore. It was about Cam. It was about Dean. I was just the woman that linked them.

I washed my face with a cloth and swore I was done crying. I then dried my hair, brushed my teeth, got myself dressed, and went to the kitchen to find tea bags for my eyes. I needed something to help them look better, and I was running out of time.

By the time Cam walked in the door, I’d used some makeup to cover things up a bit. Cam, however, paused and studied me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked me.

I smiled and shook my head. “Nothing. Tell me about your trip.” I hoped his excitement over the trip would be enough to distract him.

He frowned a moment, trying to decide if I was telling the truth, then began talking about all they had done. I listened—or tried to listen—as I worried over what was about to happen next. When Cam was done talking, I pulled him to me and hugged him tightly.

“I love you,” I said fiercely.

“Uh, yeah, I love you too,” he replied, sounding confused but returning the hug.

“Everything I have ever done since the day you were born is because I love you. I made mistakes because I was young, but I have always loved you completely, and I will always love you. No matter what life throws our way, I’m here.”

He pulled back and looked up at me. “Mom, you’re not sick, are you?” he asked with fear in his eyes.

“No, I’m not sick.”

“You swear?” he said.

I nodded.

He relaxed then. “Okay, so it’s just you doing weird mom stuff. I can deal with that.”

I smiled at his comment, but inside, I wanted to cry.

“We need to go up to Dean’s penthouse,” I began.

He beamed at the mention of Dean’s name. “Okay!”

I wanted to grab his arm and explain first, but how would I do that? Should I without Dean?

He headed for the door before I could stop him, and I had no choice but to follow.

“What are our plans?” he asked as the elevator doors closed behind us.

We had no plans. Maybe one day soon, he and Dean would have plans, but there wasn’t going to be a we any longer.

“I’m not sure,” was all I could say.

I wished we had talked about this yesterday. Dean hadn’t said how he wanted to proceed with Cam. I wanted to sit him down and come clean with him too, tell him everything, but I wasn’t sure if that would be good for him. What if Dean decided that he didn’t want to be a part of Cam’s life? I couldn’t allow him to be rejected by his own father.

When the elevator doors opened, Cam bounded toward Dean’s door, excited to see his hero. He began to punch in the code to enter, and I started to stop him when the door opened, and a stunning blonde woman stood there. She seemed familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.

Had I seen her with Dean in photos? Was this one of his past girlfriends?

“Hello,” she said, smiling at Cam and then lifting her gaze to look at me. I could see her studying me, but she kept her smile in place before looking back to Cam. “You must be Cam. Come on in,” she said, stepping back.

Cam was looking up at her, curious. I could see his brain working. He was aware that Dean and I had been dating, so this woman was confusing him. This was just the beginning of his confusion. I wanted to shelter him from it all. He continued to walk into the penthouse and I watched him as he took in his surroundings.

When I reached the door, the woman looked at me, and her smile was genuine. Kind even. Not something I’d expected to encounter today. At least, not at this apartment.

“I’m Blaire Finlay,” she said, and the name registered as well as where I had seen her face before.

This was Rush’s wife. Dean’s daughter-in-law. She was even more beautiful in person than the pictures I’d seen of her splashed across magazines when she married Rush.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied sincerely. “Since you’re here, I guess you already know who I am.”

She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yes,” she replied. “Rush thought it would be easier for you if another woman was here.”

That was thoughtful of Rush. I was surprised. Mostly because Dean had told his son and also because he’d allowed Rush to advise him in anything. It didn’t seem very Dean-like.

“Dean left his sample already. He isn’t here,” she said gently.

Knowing I wasn’t about to face him again was a relief and a heartache, all at once. He was avoiding me. He didn’t want to be in the same room as me.

“I understand,” I managed to get out over the lump that had formed in my throat.

“Come this way,” Blaire said, and we walked to the living room.

Cam had a frown on his face. “Dean isn’t here.”

“He had to run some errands,” Blaire said.

“Oh,” Cam said, looking let down. “Who are you?” he then asked Blaire.

“I’m Dean’s daughter-in-law, Blaire,” she replied.

That seemed to pacify Cam. He nodded, then walked back over to where I was standing.

“Didn’t he know we were coming?” he asked me.

An older man with a white lab coat walked out of the kitchen then. “Oh good, you’re here.”

Blaire glanced at Cam and then me. I could see by her expression that she’d assumed Cam knew about the paternity test. Damn Dean for not discussing this process with me. Cam was a kid. He couldn’t just be expected to handle this kind of information lightly.

“Dr. Moses, uh …” Blaire began.

The older man beamed at Cam. “I don’t think this is necessary, and I am surprised Dean is demanding it. The resemblance between Rush at that age and Cam is uncanny. Dean is blind,” he said, then looked at me. “Or he was preoccupied.” The older man winked, then turned his attention back to Cam.

“Just need a little cheek swab, and then I’ll be on my way,” Dr. Moses said to him, then looked over at Blaire. “That sandwich was excellent, dear. Thank you.”

Blaire nodded at him, but her focus was on Cam. She was worried. It was on her face. I wanted to cry because in this moment, I felt alone, and this stranger was making me feel as if I had support. Like someone else cared.

Dr. Moses opened a case and sat down on the sofa. He took out a sterilized swab. “All right, Cam, open up.”

Cam did as he had been told without question, but the uncertainty on his face was obvious. The swab took only moments, and then Dr. Moses was putting his things away and standing up. Cam watched the older man, and then he looked at Blaire and at last to me. He was waiting for an explanation. No one gave him one. My heart ached for the conversation we were going to have as soon as we got back to our apartment. I would have to tell him. This wasn’t how I’d wanted to do it. But Dean had forced it with his actions.

I saw Blaire go over and speak quietly with Dr. Moses.

“It’s time to go,” I told Cam.

“Are you going to tell me what just happened?” he asked me.

I nodded. “Yes. I will explain it once we are in our apartment.”

Cam paused and looked back at the doctor. “I’m not sick, am I?”

I shook my head, hating he was worried about something like that. “You are perfectly fine.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he walked over to me, and for the first time in a long time, my son slipped his hand into mine. It wasn’t something Cam did anymore. Holding my hand was for babies. Or at least, that was what he had said the last time I tried to hold his hand. Now, he needed my assurance. I was his safe place, and the fact that he was reaching out for that security made my guilt gnaw at me.

We started to walk around the sofa, and Blaire’s gaze found mine.

“Thank you,” I said to her. “We need to go talk about things. It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet the both of you too,” she replied.

We were almost to the door when I heard heels hitting the marble floor. Pausing, I looked back, and Blaire appeared.

She looked at Cam, then back to me. “Finlay men can be … difficult, but … when they love, it’s forever.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Because Dean Finlay did not love me. She misunderstood the situation.

I simply nodded and opened the door to step outside. Free of the confines of the penthouse I would never spend another happy moment in again. That door was closed to me. I prayed, one day, I could find a way to move on.

thirty-four

dean

The whiskey in my hand had been my friend for the past forty-eight hours. I stood, staring out the window of my living room, while Rush sat on the sofa, waiting on me to respond to his questioning. I didn’t have an answer for him. He was going to be waiting awhile.

“Dean?” He said my name again.

I glanced back at him. “Can’t you let me wait in fucking silence?” I asked him.

“I’ve given you silence, and your time is up,” he said. “This isn’t just about you. It doesn’t only affect you. There is a kid. Your kid. According to Blaire and Dr. Moses, he looks just like me at that age. That means, I’ve got a brother. A kid. One who not only looks like a Finlay, but also got your talent.”

These were things that I had thought of already. The first time I had seen Cam, I’d thought he looked familiar, and then I’d thought it was because of the photos in their apartment. Now, I knew. He did look like Rush had at that age. They had the same smile. How the fuck had I missed it? Then, there was Cam’s talent on the drums. It was uncanny. It wasn’t average. He was gifted. He loved the drums the way I had once loved them. It was what he wanted to do most in life. I had been the same.

Fuck! He was nine years old.

“Nine years, Rush. She took nine fucking years away from me.”

Rush didn’t say anything, and I turned to look back at him.

“Why do I feel like you’re taking her side? First Blaire and now you,” I said accusingly.

Rush shrugged. “I didn’t meet her. But I trust my wife. She’s an excellent judge of character. Plus, she made some damn good points.”

“Fuck her points!” I roared. “If this is my kid, he has lived a life of poverty. He didn’t grow up in a mansion on the beach. He lived in God knows where when he was born. He has known hunger. My kid has been hungry. He’s had a hard life. He didn’t get the life I gave you!”

The anger began to rise up again as I thought of what kind of life a teenage girl would have put my son through. While I had been living in luxury and the best money could buy, he had been living without everything.

“I grew up in a home with a mother who was mentally and emotionally damaging. The only love from a parent I got was from a rock star who was often stoned or drunk when I was around him. I had everything money could buy, but what I really wanted was a fucking mom. One who tucked me in at night. One who was there to hold me when I cried. One who I could depend on. I didn’t get that, Dean. But … my brother did. Poverty or not, the kid has a damn good mom. I’m not just going by Blaire’s assessment of her either. I’m going by what the private investigator you put on her ass two days ago told us. He praised her, Dean. He said she was an excellent parent. So, be mad at her. Be furious if it makes you feel better, but remember, you fucked a seventeen-year-old girl. A foster kid at that. And you don’t remember it. She had no one. She was a kid. Yet here she is, ten years later, with your son. He’s healthy, happy, and fucking talented.”

Rush stood up then and pointed a finger at me. “If he is my brother—and I fully believe he is—then Brielle will be welcome in my home. She’ll be invited to holidays. She’ll become my wife’s friend because Blaire will want that. She won’t be excluded. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“She could have contacted me,” I interrupted him.

Why didn’t he care that my child had been kept from me?

“How the fuck was she supposed to do that? She was a kid! A homeless kid! Jesus, Dad, look at it from her side. How was she supposed to do that? And fuck it! You should have asked for her ID. Made sure she was legal.”

“What about when she saw me again? She didn’t tell me then. What’s your excuse for her? Hmm?” I asked him.

“It had been nine years,” he said. “She’d been his only parent for nine years. She was an adult, and she was protecting her son. You’re Dean Finlay. She was scared. Scared you’d change their world.”

“She let me into his life. She let me fuck her. She let me care,” I replied, suddenly very tired.

“And you are holding that against her? You should be counting yourself lucky that she trusted you enough to let you near him. She didn’t hide him from you. She let you into his life. But first, she was his mother. She had to make sure it was safe. You fucking her was her own bad judgment,” Rush said, then shook his head. “Sometimes, I forget how differently you view the world. The majority of your life, you’ve lived in fame. Well, Dean, welcome to the real world, where people have to think about their choices. They have to weigh the outcomes. They can’t just make up their minds and know that, if it’s a shit show, someone will clean it up for them. We aren’t all rock stars.”

My phone rang in that moment, silencing us both. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. I knew the number. I’d been waiting on this call.

“Hello?” I said as Rush watched me closely.

“The boy is yours, Dean,” Dr. Moses said on the other line. “Wasn’t a question in my mind after getting a look at him, but this is proof. He’s a Finlay. He’s your Finlay.”

“Thanks,” I said and ended the call.

When my eyes met Rush’s, he nodded, not needing to hear it from me.

“You’ve got a week. One week. Decide what you’re going to do. Because in one week, I will meet my brother with or without you.”

I stood there, holding my empty whiskey glass, as my oldest son walked to my private entrance before leaving me alone.

Cam was mine.

The kid was mine.

And his mom … I didn’t know how to move on from this.

All I knew was, I missed them. Both of them. Cam and Brielle.

thirty-five

brielle

Today, Cam and I went to the beach. We carried a picnic. We took the time to process it all. I let him ask questions, and I answered them all truthfully. He was himself at times, laughing and playing in the waves. Then, other times, he was quiet, and I knew he was thinking.

Being told that the rock star you idolized was your father was a lot for anyone to process. Especially a nine-year-old.

While we ate our turkey sandwiches, he asked me if Dean was mad at me. I had sworn to myself that I’d tell him the truth. Even if it was difficult.

I nodded. “He is. But because he feels robbed. Of knowing you.”

Cam frowned. “You tried to tell him about me. He’s a rock star. How did he expect you to tell him?”

I shrugged. “I think it’s more about not telling him sooner. Since he moved into our building.”

Cam didn’t say anything for a long time. When he finally did, he slid closer to me. “I’m not mad at you, Mama.”

Those simple words were enough. I could survive it all, knowing he forgave me. He understood.

The drive home, we talked about his camping trip and his moving up to the junior high marching band. Dean wasn’t mentioned once, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. I wanted Cam to feel free to talk to me about whatever was bothering him. He didn’t have to protect me from Dean. I was his mother. I wanted to know how he was feeling about all this.

After we got home and had dinner, I put away the leftovers and washed the dishes, and Cam went to get his bath. He hadn’t mentioned Dean again. I knew that today or tomorrow, the results from the paternity test would come back. I expected a call from Dean or maybe Blaire. Possibly even his lawyer.

When there was a knock on the door, I dried my hands on a towel, then walked to answer the door. Peeking through the peephole, I saw Dean standing there. I stepped back and took several deep breaths, then reached for the lock and unlatched it before opening the door.

Dean’s eyes locked on mine, and I prepared myself for whatever it was he was here to say. I was strong. I could handle this. Nothing he said could destroy me. I had survived worse.

“He’s mine,” Dean said.

“Yes,” I replied. I had never doubted it.

“Does he know?” Dean asked me.

Is he serious? What did he think was going to happen after the cheek swab in his apartment?

“He’s smart. The paternity test wasn’t something he didn’t notice,” I said.

Dean winced. As if he hadn’t thought of that.

“Can I come in?” he asked me.

I glanced back to see Cam wasn’t in there and looked back to Dean. “Okay,” I replied, stepping back to let him inside.

He walked past me, and I hated that his nearness affected me. I hadn’t thought he would come to tell me the results himself. Not after the way he had acted since I’d told him. I’d been prepared for something more formal.

“Is he here?” Dean asked me.

“We spent the day at the beach. He’s getting a shower,” I replied, closing the door.

“How did you tell him?” he asked.

I turned to look at Dean. “The best way I could. I explained it, leaving out the sexual details, and let him ask me questions.”

Dean nodded, then sighed as he looked around the room. “I handled things wrong,” he said. “I just hadn’t been prepared.”

I wasn’t going to tell him it was okay and offer forgiveness. I didn’t feel as if I could do that just yet. I needed time.

“Brielle.” He said my name as he reached out a hand to me.

I stepped back. I didn’t want him to touch me. This wasn’t something I could move on from. However, the stricken look on his face was hard to see. I shifted my gaze toward the television. The local news was still on.

“What is it you want me to say?” he asked me.

I didn’t look at him. I wasn’t sure I could and make smart choices. “What do you want to say? I don’t want anything from you. Cam is our son. We can discuss how you want to be involved in his life.”

“Don’t say that,” he said softly.

My eyes swung to his of their own free will. “Say what?”

“That you want nothing from me,” he said. “Because I have a list of things I want from you.”

I shook my head. “No. You don’t get to say that now. You … you …” I backed away from him. “You are Cam’s father. You tell me how much of his life you want to be a part of, and we will go from there.”

Dean moved then, and his hand wrapped around my wrist. “Brielle,” he said in a pleading tone, “you dropped this on me out of nowhere. I felt lied to. Betrayed. Robbed. Can’t you see that? My world had been turned on its ear, and I needed to process it.”

“Let go of me,” I said, trying not to soften toward him.

I had to protect my heart, and this man had already crushed it once. I wasn’t over that, and it was a large, gaping wound I couldn’t even acknowledge. I had my son to think of first.

“Brielle.” He said my name again, and I hated how hearing him say it made my heart spasm in my chest.

“Let my mama go,” Cam shouted forcefully.

I turned to look at him and saw him glaring at his father.

He was protecting me. Something he shouldn’t feel the need to do.

thirty-six

dean

I saw it then. The fierceness on his face. The fire in his eyes as my son stood there, glaring at me. How had I not seen it before? Except for the eyes, he looked exactly like Rush at that age. Even more so than Nate did.

“It’s okay,” Brielle said in a soothing tone as she pulled her arm free of my grip.

She moved toward him then. His gaze went from me to his mother. He was worried about her, and I knew in that moment that he’d face down anything to keep her safe.

Pride swelled in my chest. I hadn’t expected it to hit me that hard. It was almost painful.

“Why was he holding your arm?” he asked her, then shot a warning look in my direction.

“He was just trying to talk to me. I was being hardheaded. You know how I am,” she said to him.

“You’re not hardheaded,” he said to her, and then he looked at me. “Don’t make my mama cry again.”

I looked at Brielle then. She didn’t acknowledge his threat. She was focused on him completely. She had cried. I’d made her cry. My chest felt as if someone had stuck a knife in it and twisted.

“Cam,” her soft voice said with sternness, “this isn’t necessary. Dean is here to talk to us both.”

“Why? Because his test came back? He knows you’re not lying?” The accusation in his tone was clear. He trusted his mother without question.

Rush’s words came back to me. Reminding me of all I’d given him, but it wasn’t a mother. It wasn’t what he wanted most. I had given Rush all money could buy, but that hadn’t been a mother to love him. One that he would stand up for and protect.

Cam had that. He hadn’t been given the advantages my wealth could have brought him, but he’d had something greater than money. He’d had something money couldn’t buy. He had a mother who sacrificed everything for him. A mother who raised him with the security that he had her. She would be there for him, no matter what. And in this moment, he was showing me what she had taught him. That you protected those you loved.

“I was wrong,” I said to him. “I made a mistake.”

Cam shifted his gaze to his mother, then back to me. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He wasn’t sure what to do with this. Brielle placed a hand on his arm. That small touch gave him the answer he needed.

“Because you know my mama wasn’t lying?” he shot back at me.

I nodded. “That, among other things. Hurting your mother was one of those. I was surprised. Shocked. I reacted poorly, and I wish I could go back and do that again. I’d handle it differently.”

He glanced up at his mother. She nodded her head at him. They didn’t need words. It was fascinating to watch them talk to each other with gestures. Rush hadn’t had that with his mother. Hell, he didn’t have that with me. That was something that came from trust, respect, and love. A love unlike any I had ever experienced.

Brielle had raised my son … our son … better than I could have, and she’d had him when she was a child.

I loved her. It wasn’t her beauty, the size of her chest, the way she felt when I was deep inside her. I was in love with the person she was. The way she thought of others. Her kindness. Her determination and spirit. The way her gentle smile could make a dark moment easier.

I loved her because, even at eighteen years old, she had been the best damn mother I could have asked for my kid to have. I loved her because our son was smart, loyal, brave, and talented, and it was all because his mother had taught him how to be with her own actions.

“I don’t want you here if it’s going to upset my mama,” he said to me.

“Cam.” Brielle said his name, and he looked up at her. “This isn’t about me and Dean. It’s about you and …” She paused and looked at me a moment. “It’s about you and your father. I never imagined you’d get the chance to know him. You’ve been given a gift. I want you to embrace it. I will be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s not exactly true,” I said, taking one step in their direction. “This will always be about you too. You’re his mom. You’re his safe place.”

She started to say something, and I held up my hand to stop her.

“You’re also the only woman I have ever loved, and you’re the only one I will ever love. I know I fucked up, Brielle, but I will spend every damn day I have left on this earth showing you just how much I love you. How sorry I am for hurting you. Just give me a chance. Please.”

Her big blue eyes widened as she stared at me. I could see the different emotions cross her face. That beautiful, expressive face. Even when I wanted to hate her, I couldn’t. She was in my head, she was under my skin, and she was in my heart.

“You love me?” she asked in a whisper, as if saying the words aloud would make them untrue.

“So damn much,” I replied.

Brielle blinked, then reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“Mama?” Cam asked, looking up at her. “I don’t think he meant to make you cry by saying that.”

She pressed a kiss to Cam’s forehead. “I know,” she said. “I’m just … I didn’t expect that,” she said, looking back at me.

“Can you forgive me? Give me a chance to make you love me?” I asked her, taking a step in their direction.

She laughed, and Cam looked at me, his eyes wide with confusion, then back at his mother.

“I’m sorry,” she said to me.

For a moment, my heart sank.

“It’s just that a part of me has loved you since the night we conceived Cam. But … then I got to know the man—the real Dean Finlay—and I fell in love with him too easily.”

I didn’t wait for her to say more. I went to them. To my son and his mother. I grabbed her waist and pulled her to me before I covered her mouth with mine. She kissed me back, holding on to my arms the way I loved. As if she had to hold on to me to keep from falling.

Brielle made me feel like a man. She made me feel needed for more than my money and fame.

Cam cleared his throat loudly, and Brielle pulled away. I looked over at our son. He was glaring at me again.

“Easy,” he said. “That’s my mama.”

Brielle’s laughter filled the room, and my world was right. It was full. It was complete.

epilogue

Brielle

One Year Later …

I waved back at Cam as I stood up through the sunroof of the limo. Clara was beside him, holding his hand and wiping her tears while smiling. Mrs. Jo standing beside Kiro Manning on the steps as they watched us leave made me laugh. Everyone we loved was there, outside the Slacker Demon mansion in Beverly Hills. As I looked back at them, even after a year of weaving Dean’s world and mine together, it seemed surreal.

“Better get down. The media is just outside the gate,” Dean called up to me as he held on to my ankles.

I waved one last time before sinking down into the back of the limo. The sunroof closed as I snuggled against Dean’s side.

“Today was perfect. Thank you,” I said, tilting my head back to look up at him.

Dean gripped my chin with his finger and thumb and held it as he locked his gaze with mine. “Promise me one thing,” he said, his tone suddenly very serious.

“What?” I asked him.

“Talk to me. If being Mrs. Dean Finlay ever gets hard, tell me. I’ll move us to a fucking private island if I have to. Just don’t leave me.”

This was his biggest fear. It wasn’t the first time he had brought it up over the past year. When he had asked me to marry him, he’d told me then that he couldn’t live without me. That he’d move heaven and earth to keep me happy. I had to stop him often from going too far in his need to please me. Just being with him was enough.

“I’m never keeping secrets again,” I assured him. “We will talk about everything.”

He bent down and put his lips on mine. It was softer and sweeter than it had been in front of the minister and our friends and family. After our I dos, Dean had grabbed my face and kissed me as if he needed me to breathe. Kiro and the rest of the band members had cheered him on, making everyone laugh.

I reached up and touched his face gently. This was my husband. I was married. This life hadn’t turned out the way I’d imagined. Dean made me believe in fairy tales. He had shown me how to trust, how to be loved by a man, and what it meant to need someone.

A hand knocking on the window caused me to jump, and Dean cursed under his breath.

“Damn media,” he said. “We’ll be past them soon.”

I laid my head back on his arm, feeling so content with life that it was almost scary. Cam was going to spend a week with his new nephew and nieces at Rush and Blaire’s house. He was excited about it, and I didn’t have to feel guilty that we were heading to Greece without him. Rosemary Beach had become one of his favorite places to visit.

“When we get back, we need to start looking for a house,” Dean said.

I lifted my head to look at him.

Cam and I had been living in his penthouse for the past four months. When my lease had neared its end date, we had been with Dean on tour, and he refused to let me renew it. He wanted us with him. I hadn’t argued with him because we rarely used our apartment much anymore.

I had expected we would just continue to live in his penthouse after we were married.

“You want a house?” I asked him.

“Don’t you?” he replied.

I shrugged. I hadn’t thought about it. “I want you.”

He grinned. “And you have me. But what about a house? A big one. You could have a yard of your own. A pool.”

“Cam would love that,” I admitted.

He’d never lived in a house before.

“Cam would love anywhere you are. You’re his home. What do you want?” Dean asked me.

For a moment, I thought about a yard with flowers and a tree with a swing. All the things I had dreamed of as a child. Being adopted by a family with a home that felt safe. A place that decorated for the holidays and a Christmas tree that needed a ladder to put the star on top.

“A house would be nice,” I admitted.

Dean pressed a kiss to my head. “Then, we’re buying a fucking house.”

I laughed, and he smiled as he watched me.

This man had two personalities. He was the rock star and the family man. When he had to be Dean Finlay, drummer for Slacker Demon, he acted the part. Entertained the crowds. I had watched him in amazement from backstage while they toured this past winter and spring. Then, the moment the cameras were off him and the fans were no longer around, he was Dean, a father, grandfather, and now husband.

I loved both. Because both were mine. The rocker who would look for me while he was onstage, then wink at me, and the man who held me at night while I fell asleep.

“The day I walked into that office and saw you standing there with your messy bun, looking like a sexy librarian, I had no fucking clue the gift fate had handed me. The fact that I almost canceled that appointment haunts me. I might never have found you, learned about Cam,” he said to me, tucking a curl behind my ear.

“I believe I’d have tried to contact you again one day. Once I knew the right way to do it. You’re not an easy man to get in touch with,” I replied.

He knew how I had tried to get in touch with him when I was homeless and pregnant. I’d told him all of it. But that didn’t make the time he had lost with Cam any easier. I wished more than anything that he’d had that time with Cam, but then would we be here now? I had been a child myself. Time and hardships hadn’t yet molded me into the woman I was now.

We were lucky. Our paths could have crossed sooner or never again.

Life hadn’t always been good to me, but in this moment, I wasn’t sure it could get better. It was as if the universe was making up for lost time.

Dean took my hand and threaded his fingers through mine.

He said nothing more about the years he hadn’t known about Cam. We’d talked through that already.

Our story wasn’t an easy one. It hadn’t begun with romance. It had begun with lies and lust.

But along the way, through the twists and turns, it had turned into something beautiful.

You can connect with Abbi online in several different ways. She uses social media to procrastinate.

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