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)
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—”