Page 17 of Money Reigns
“…Alright,” I say finally, sliding my phone back into my purse. “But only because the app is surging.”
He grins wider. “Sure. Blame it on the app.”
The drive is quiet at first, not awkward, just… calm. Brody keeps one hand on the wheel, the other draped casually across the gearshift. His profile catches the evening light just right, sharp jawline, golden-boy cheekbones, and lashes way too long for a man.
I stare out the window, trying to slow my racing thoughts.
I have a job. My first day wasn’t a disaster.
Rent extension is due soon and I still have no idea how I’m going to pull that off.
“You settled in okay?” Brody asks, his voice breaking through my spiral.
“Yeah,” I say. “Everyone was… nice.”
“Wesley’s good people,” he says with a nod. “War and Wilder are a bit much, but they’re not terrible once you get to know them.”
I hum noncommittally. I don’t know anything aboutanyof them. Except that Warren watched me today like he was trying to read my blood type through my clothes.
By the time we reach our apartment building, the sun is dipping lower, casting long shadows across the lobby. We step into the elevator together. The air shifts the second the doors close.
Tighter.Closer.
He turns toward me, one hand braced against the wall, angled just enough to keep the mood casual, but it doesn’t quite work.
“So…” he says slowly. “Any chance you’d want to grab lunch sometime?”
I blink. “Like,lunchlunch?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. The kind with food.”
My stomach flips, and not because I’m swooning. Because this isnotthe time. I’m barely scraping by. I just started this job, anddating?That’s a luxury I can’t afford.
I look up at him, my bottom lip caught between my teeth. “Brody… I’m not really looking for anything right now. I just, I need to focus on work, and rent, and…”
He holds up a hand. “Got it. Respect. No pressure.”
The elevator dings. We step out into the hallway, that quiet space between our two doors. My hand is already fishing in my purse for my key when he speaks again.
“But how about lunch at the office?” he offers. “You can come up to my floor, eat in my office. No pressure. Just food.”
I glance at him. He’s leaning against the wall, grinning, not smug, just easy.
Effortless.
Something in me wavers. It’s not just the offer. It’s the way he’s asking.
Like he actuallywantsme there.
Like this isn’t a game.
I bite the inside of my cheek, heart doing that stupid flutter thing again.
Maybe this is a bad idea.
But maybe... it isn’t. I could use a friend.
“…Okay,” I say softly. “Sure. Lunch at the office.”
