Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“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.