“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His cap and sunglasses were gone as he stood there, looking up at the ceiling fixtures that were twenty years out of date.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.