Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Brodie
Standing in the lobby of the building, I watch the elevator for Reese while ignoring the group of women gathered on one of the couches near the entrance. All five are dressed similarly in barely-there dresses and short shorts, whispering among each other while doing a horrible job of not making it obvious they’re talking about me.
It’s weird to think that I used to feed off that kind of thing—feed off women throwing themselves at me and the constant attention. Then, I lost the only woman besides my mom that I’d ever loved because I craved the ego boost the other women gave me. I didn’t take my ex seriously when she told me that the flirting bothered her, even if it was innocent. I thought she was being dramatic. Looking back, I realize I expected her to put up with it because of who I am. It was stupid. I was stupid and immature.
“Hey.” I turn my head and look down at the blonde who broke away from her friends to approach me. “Are you Brodie Larsen?”
“No, sorry,” I deny, and she frowns, glancing back at her friends before looking at me once more.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I give her a smile so I don’t come off like a dick, then turn to the elevator when I hear the ding of the doors opening. With my hands tucked into the pockets of my shorts, I watch a group of people step off and then see Reese following behind them. I don’t know why I thought she would look completely different. Maybe because I’m used to women going all out with hair and makeup. But she’s as cute as she was by the pool, maybe even cuter with her glasses and her hair down, dressed casually in a pair of jean shorts with a tank top and sandals. Looking around, she fidgets awkwardly, and I can’t help but smile.
“Reese,” I call, and she turns my way. Her shoulders seem to sag in relief as soon as our gazes lock. Yeah, she’s cute.
“Hey.” She walks toward me with a small smile. “Sorry I’m late; the elevator took forever.”
“It’s all good.” I motion with my chin toward the door. “Are you ready to go eat?”
“Yes, I’m starving. Do you know where you want to go?”
“I figured we’d walk down the street and stop wherever sounds good if that works.”
“Totally.” I shorten my stride, and she falls into step beside me.
“Did you share the news of your acceptance with anyone?”
“I called my aunt.” She tips her head back to look up at me. “She’s happy for me, and I left a message for my mom. I haven’t heard back from her yet.”
“I’m sure she will be proud.”
“Probably.” She shrugs as I wrap my hand around her elbow to maneuver her around a crowd of people gathered in the middle of the sidewalk. When we reach one of the first restaurants, I stop at the menu posted outside.
“Do you like Italian?” I look down at her.
“I do,” she says, but her attention goes a bit farther down the street. “But there’s a Greek place down a little ways that is supposed to be really good.” Her gaze meets mine once more. “Do you like Greek food?”
“I love all food.”
“Do you mind if we check out the menu there?”
“Not at all.” We fall into step once more. When we get to the restaurant, she takes her time looking at the menu. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She looks up and down the street. “I’m so hungry everything sounds good, and now I can’t decide if I want a gyro, pasta primavera, or a burger from the spot down the street I order from sometimes.”
“Pick a number between one and three.”
Her pretty brown eyes meet mine. “Two.”
“Greek, it is.” Her nose scrunches, making me laugh. “You don’t want a gyro?”
? She looks at the menu we’re still in front of, then at me. “Maybe you should just pick; otherwise, we might never eat.”
“All right.” I take her elbow and walk with her past two more restaurants to a diner I know offers almost every kind of food item you could ask for. My teammates and I went there one night after hanging out and drinking. “Have you been here?” I ask when we stop at the podium at the front.
“No, never. Is the food good?”
“Yeah, and they have a huge menu, so you should be able to find something.” I hover my hand over her lower back when the girl at the front takes us to one of the booths and then wait for her to sit before sliding into my seat.
After we order drinks—her a Coke and me just water—I watch her look over the menu, already knowing what I’ll get.
“Do you want to share an appetizer?”
“Sure,” I agree, and she sets her menu aside. “What did you decide on?”
“The French dip.” She smiles when I laugh.
“Is your mom back in Minnesota?” I ask after the waitress comes over with our drinks and takes our orders.
“Yeah, she lives there with her fiancé and his daughter.”
“Where is your dad?”
Her expression falls slightly. “He passed away when I was young.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Time doesn’t always make it easier.”
“You’re right about that.” Her smile is sad.
“So, if your mom is back in Minnesota, who do you know here?” I ask to change the subject and to get that sad look out of her eyes.
“My aunt Ileana,” she says as the waitress comes over to drop off the mozzarella sticks Reese ordered for an appetizer.
“Are you two close?”
“Yeah. She and my dad were twins, and with my dad gone, we only got closer over the years.” Her smile is fond. “She’s kind of always been like a second mom to me. I obviously lived with my real mom, but when I was growing up, I would fly to California, where my aunt was living at the time, and spend my summers with her. Or if I had a long break from school, she would come to Minnesota to visit, or we would travel.”
“That’s cool.”
“She’s the best.” She picks up a cheese stick, tears it in half, and then blows on it as she looks at me. “What about your family?”
“My parents live in Kentucky. I have a brother who lives in Chicago with his wife and my niece, who just turned two. And a sister who just moved to Nashville to live with her boyfriend.”
“Why did you say boyfriend like that?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews.
“I don’t like him. He’s self-centered and thinks he’s God’s gift. My sister could do better, but she likes the lifestyle he offers, so she’s put up with a bunch of shit she shouldn’t have had to.”
I watch her nose scrunch. “Does she love him?”
“She says she does.”
“Then you’ll never change her mind about him, and if you try, it will just create a rift between the two of you.”
“You say that like you know from experience.”
“My mom’s fiancé isn’t her first boyfriend since my dad died.” She shrugs. “Mom likes living a life of leisure and travel, and over the years, she’s found man after man to give that to her. Not to say she didn’t care about them, but until Richard, I don’t think she was ever in love. She just appreciated the fact that those men could take care of her. And for her, that’s what’s most important.” She picks up another mozzarella stick.
“When I was a teenager, I would get so mad at her, and we would fight all the time about it. I knew the men she was with before Richard weren’t treating her right, and I couldn’t understand why she kept seeking out the same kind of men over and over again.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Nothing changed except our relationship. She always felt like I was judging her when I wasn’t. I just wanted better for her, even if it was a better kind of man.”
“But you like her fiancé now?”
“He treats her like a princess and worships the ground she walks on. That’s really all that matters to me.”
“Do you and he get along?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “But I honestly can’t say I know him well, which is weird since I lived in his house for almost six months after he proposed to my mom.”
“How is that possible?”
“He travels all the time for work and was gone more than he was around.”
“That has to be difficult on your mom.”
“She goes with him.” She takes another mozzarella stick, and I watch her eat it, thinking even the way she eats is cute. “So, what about your parents?”
“My mom works for the FBI,” I say.
“Wait, what?” She laughs. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, but she’s not an agent. She works in the office, which isn’t as exciting.”
“Maybe, but you still get to say your mom works for the FBI.” She laughs again.
“True.” I grin and then lean back when the waitress brings over our food.
“What about your dad?” She grabs the ketchup.
“He was a car salesman but retired a few years ago. Now, he spends his days fishing.”
“I love fishing,” she says softly, the look in her eyes matching the tone of her voice.
“Really?” I raise a brow.
“Three of my favorite things are fishing, scary movies, and baking cookies.”