What was I supposed to tell him? That a huge chunk of my early earnings had gone to paying for Mom’s cancer bills? We lived in the supposed best country in the world, yet my middle-class family was quickly bankrupted because my mom had been dying and my dad, who owned his own business and didn’t have good insurance, couldn’t afford the hospital bills. I’d stepped up and paid them.

Maybe Dean knew that much. But he sure as hell didn’t know that Dad, who had been my manager and was supposed to handle my money as well, lost almost all of it on shitty investments and gambling. That I hadn’t known the extent of the damage until after I’d bought the gym and paid for Dean’s tuition.

I could barely stomach that as it was. Dad had been my idol. Until he wasn’t. And frankly, I felt like a damn fool for letting it happen. That’s what you got when you trusted somebody, even the ones you loved. If you wanted to survive in this world, you didn’t let anyone fully in.

“The money is gone,” I said instead. “But the gym could turn a good profit if we updated it. We need new equipment, to redo the locker rooms… hell, the whole place needs a good coat of paint. In this market, we won’t be able to pull in new members if Lights Out stays looking like a shithole.”

I didn’t mention the offer from Garret. Dean would tell me to take it and I wasn’t hearing that. It was the last possible solution. “If the gym becomes profitable,” I added, “you’ll earn money too.”

Because the place was half Dean’s, whether he wanted it or not. I’d made certain to give him that safety net.

I expected him to scoff as he usually did when I spoke of the gym. But he nodded, tight and decisive.

“Okay, then. You got the job being Parker’s fun boy.”

“Believe me, there will be no fun involved.”

“Please. I’ve seen her. She’s hot. Audrey Hepburn hot, but nevertheless, hot.”

I didn’t want to agree. Not when I had to face the woman every day. But Dean was right. She was a total Hepburn. I’d bet my best leather jacket that she had a strand of perfectly matched pearls in her jewelry box—and that she’d look classy as fuck in them.

“Doesn’t matter what she looks like,” I told Dean. “We have a business agreement. Nothing more.”

“Nothing?” Dean’s blond brows lifted high. “Because I could have sworn there was a hint of maybe the arrangement leading to—”

I lifted a hand to stop him. I did not want to hear about Parker’s apparent willingness to actually date Dean. It stirred up feelings in my gut that I wanted no part of.