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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, andhe 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.
