Page 20 of Frat House Fling

She hurried away as I sampled the trout. In truth, it wasn’t bad. Not fancy, but flavorful.

Bennett’s silverware remained untouched on either side of his plate. We all knew his temper was likely to get the better of him.

“Go easy on her,” Ian said.

“She needs to learn to do better,” Bennett stated flatly. “No wine, lumpy mashed potatoes, and cheap fish.”

“And how’s she going to learn that?” I pointed out. “Are you going to teach her?”

Bennett rolled his eyes for form. “It’s her job.”

Nelson reached for seconds of the mashed potatoes, while Bennett and Grant hadn’t touched theirs. I stared at my old buddy until he felt the weight of my glare and looked up.

“I’m sure she tried her best,” Grant said.

“That doesn’t make it good enough,” Bennett responded. Of course, if the Pope showed up to say grace, Bennett probably wouldn’t think that was good enough.

“This really isn’t that bad,” Grant said after finally taking a bite of fish. “Try some.” Grant could sometimes rein his cousinin, and sometimes not. But Grant had to stay on Bennett’s good side. We all did, to some extent.

“You’re eating that?” Bennett asked.

“What else am I supposed to do with it?”

“Fertilizing the lawn comes to mind.” Bennett’s voice was dry. “Clearly, we made the wrong choice when hiring.”

“Maybe not,” Grant said lightly. “She’s got one hell of a body on her. Hell, I’d eat dog food if she’d wear a bikini while serving it.”

Classy. Really classy.

“Dog food and fertilizer.” I rolled my eyes. “I hope poor Hailey never needs to ask you two for a letter of reference.”

Bennett’s face darkened. “She’d better hope that, too.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Would you guys just eat? It’s food. You eat it. Then you get on with your life.”

I winced, waiting to see if Bennett was going to lash out. Few people ever spoke out against him. And no one spoke out against his father. Senator Forsythe was one of the most influential politicians in the country. Every year, he proposed new laws, most of them draconian, and headed powerful committees. Grant’s father was a well-known and well-regarded lawyer with countless connections in Washington, DC, but the unspoken bylaw was that he didn’t ever cross or challenge his brother.

When Grant was a child, he’d had a similar message drilled into him. Be more like Bennett. Play nice with your cousin. Let him have his way. Grant’s family had only allowed him to care about the things they cared about—and as a result, these days he pretended he didn’t care about anything.

Ian and I were also connected to the Forsythe family in some ways, but my father was one of the best architects in the world. That gave me some freedom to speak my mind, but I’d received the same message when I was younger. Play nicely with the Forsythe boys. And for the most part, I had.

We spent most of the rest of the meal in silence—a rarity for us. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t dragged Nelson along. He would’ve been happier in his room. Hell, I might’ve been happier in his room, too. I hated seeing Hailey treated so poorly.

She appeared about twenty minutes later. “Are you ready for dessert?”

“Clear the plates first,” Bennett said. “Then ask again.”

I winced, and Ian did, too.

Hailey nodded and came to get Bennett’s plate first. Then Grant’s. She was learning—but I wished this kind of classist crap was something she didn’t have to learn.

After she’d taken the plates and the serving bowls, she reappeared. “Are you ready for dessert now? I made pie. And would anyone like coffee with their dessert?”

“We’re not eighty,” Bennett said. “We have better things to drink.”

Shit, it was her second day on the job. Couldn’t he cut her some slack?

Hailey nodded and slunk back into the kitchen while I whirled on Bennett. “Jesus, would you lay off? She’s trying to do what you told her to.”