Page 7 of Brodie

My stomach churns. “I can’t.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

With a nod, I hand the guy—who is basically a stranger—myphone and watch him shove his aviators up into his thick, dark hair.

As he stares at whatever is written, my heart pounds. Then,his blue eyes meet mine.

“Well?”

Ducking his head, he starts to read.

“Dear Reese Shepard. Congratulations and welcome…”

“Oh, my God.” I cover my mouth with my hand and shoot up offthe lounger. “I’m in?”

“You’re in.” He grins at me, and I have the oddest urge tohug him.

“Oh, my God,” I say again, falling to my bottom and takingmy phone when he holds it out to me. “I can’t believe it.” I read the emailthat talks about how I was selected and saying I will receive my officialdecision in the mail, along with the information I need to finish enrollment.

“How are you going to celebrate?”

I look at him once more. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll orderpizza and watch a movie.”

“Alone?”

“My aunt is… My aunt is working today, and my mom doesn’tlive here.” No way am I telling a stranger that I’m basically living alone.

“Then I’m taking you out.”

“What?” I laugh.

“I’m not going to let you celebrate your accomplishmentalone.” He stands. “It’s four. How long will it take you to get ready to go outto dinner?”

“Um.” I glance around, wondering if I’m being punked. “Idon’t know.”

“Is an hour good for someplace casual with good food?”

“Are you being serious?”

“Yes.” He smiles, and I shake my head.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Brodie.” I don’t think I’ve ever met a Brodie before, butthe name suits him.

Biting my lip, I debate taking him up on his offer.Normally, I would say no, but I just shared a huge moment with him and canactually hear a little voice in the back of my head telling me I should go. Andhonestly, I can’t think of a reason not to. It’s dinner out. He didn’t ask meto go back to his place for a drink. Maybe, like me, he doesn’t know anyonehere and is looking for people to connect with.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He raises a brow.

“Yes, dinner sounds good.”

“All right.” I watch him begin to gather his towel and phonefrom the table on the opposite side of his lounger while I pack my things intomy bag and shrug on the simple cotton dress I wore over my swimsuit down to thepool. Surprising me, he waits until I’m done, and then the two of us walk sideby side to the door that leads into the building. When we get to the elevator,I press the button for my floor, and he presses his, which I notice is for oneof the penthouses at the top. When the doors close, the smell of his cologne orwhatever soap he uses fills the small, enclosed space. It’s difficult not tofeel awkward being alone with him, especially when he only has on a pair ofshorts that hang low on his hips.

When I finally reach my floor, I mentally sigh in relief andhurry to get off the elevator like it’s on fire.

“Reese,” he calls, and I spin around to find him leaningslightly out of the elevator with a look on his face that says he’s trying notto laugh at something. “Since I don’t have your phone number, I’ll meet you inthe lobby downstairs in an hour.”

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