Page 27 of Frat House Fling

The morning at the nursing home passed quickly. There was a lot to do there, and I was happy to help. My friend Naomi drove us. I’d originally met her at the nursing home when my grandfather was there. I still didn’t know her all that well, but she was nice, and an excellent massage therapist. Needless to say, she was very popular among the nursing home residents.

The nursing home was in Sloane’s Summit, about twenty miles outside of Haverford. I enjoyed the ride. I missed driving, and it was great to see the mountains. Hell, it was great to talk to another woman. Lately, most of my conversations had been with good-looking but stubborn frat boys.

My good mood vanished as soon as I got back to the Rho Kappa Alpha house. Tonight would be my second time preparing dinner for them, and the first time sure hadn’t gone well. At least today I didn’t have to rush to the grocery store. And, thanks to Theo’s advice, and the video from that hot internet chef, it felt like I had a fighting chance to do better tonight.

By the time I heard the guys sit down in the dining room, I was as ready as I could be. Well, the food was ready. Mentally, I was nervous. This job required cooking and cleaning, and I wouldn’t be able to keep it if I could only do half of that to their satisfaction.

I took a few deep breaths and then carried the wine into the room. They were all there—Bennett, Grant, Theo, and Ian—and three of them looked surprised when I entered.

I kept my expression impassive as I approached, but I almost smiled when Theo caught my eye. Keeping his hand at his side, shielded from the others’ view, he gave me a subtle thumbs up.

Well, at least one of them recognized that I’d tried. My hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, keeping it off my face. I was wearing a white t-shirt and the only pair of black dress pants I owned. To top off the look, I’d come across a variety of white aprons in a drawer in the kitchen. I wore one tied around my waist and hanging down almost to my ankles. The internet had called that “bistro style.”

I served Bennett first—as president, he would surely expect that. He said nothing as I poured the wine from his left side. Then Grant. Then Ian because he was closer. I didn’t think that he or Theo would care what order I served them in.

Bennett didn’t say anything nice—but he also didn’t say anything mean, and I felt bolstered as I walked back to the kitchen. The idea to dress up had come to me after my visit to the nursing home today. Old Mr. Drews had been cranky, yelling at me when I made his bed and scoffing at the selection of books I’d brought him from the rec room.

When I was about at my wit’s end, Naomi appeared. She explained to me how Mr. Drews had been a professor in the Langley engineering department, and how he’d been one of the best there was. She called him Dr. Drew, and by the time she left, the old man was much more content.

There was a lesson to be learned there, along the lines of “you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” Bennett had an inflated opinion of himself. He liked to feel superior. So, if I wanted to get him off my back, I’d have to give him what he wanted. And that, as far as I could tell, was me in a subservient role. It bristled, but hey, it was what I’d been hired for. If dressing like this and trying to act like a professional cook and waitress meant that Bennett scolded me less, then I’d do it. Tohim, it probably looked like I was doing it to appease him, but I was actually just trying to make my life easier.

My nerves steadied as I served the meal, bringing it out plated like a restaurant dish. I did my best to channel the persona of a discreet, professional waiter at a high-end restaurant. It seemed to help appease Bennett.

When it was time to collect their plates, I noted that most of them were clean. That pleased me—and not just because it might mean that Bennett wouldn’t yell. I’d worked hard on that food and was glad they liked it.

As I gathered the last two plates, Theo got up, gave me a quick smile, and then went out into the front lounge area.

“Get me one of my beers, Hailey,” Grant said. It wasn’t a request, but his entitlement was usually easier to take than Bennett’s grumpiness.

I returned with his bottle at the same time Theo showed up with his own. He also had three undersized wine glasses. He sat down and poured an amber liquid into the glasses, and I realized it was some kind of after-dinner drink. There was a name for that kind of thing, but I couldn’t remember it.

I gave Grant his beer and then turned to leave, but Bennett stopped me. “Wait.”

I turned around, trying to look ready and eager to serve, but Bennett took his time, drinking from the little glass and then wiping his mouth with his napkin. Finally, he spoke again. “We’re hosting a party on Friday.”

Uh-oh. I’d heard all kinds of bad things about their parties.

“You’re expected to help out.”

When he didn’t elaborate, I bit my lip, thinking things through. “What will I do? Prepare snacks?” I had no idea how many students came to that kind of thing.

Bennett rolled his eyes, as if a second grader had said she wanted to fly a commercial airliner. “We have food brought infrom a caterer in town. There’ll be over a hundred people here on Friday—you can barely manage to feed four.”

The insult hurt, after how hard I’d tried tonight, but I kept my face neutral. Ian, however, shot Bennett a nasty look.

“You’ll clean up spills, fetch things when needed, and tend the bar,” Bennett continued.

The wordfetchwas another insult, but another issue was more pressing. “I, uh, don’t know anything about bartending.”

“That’s obvious. You have nearly a week. I suggest you learn.”

“And we can help,” Theo added. Bennett didn’t seem to like that—one of his frat brothers offering to help the staff probably offended his sensibilities, but I appreciated Theo’s offer.

“All right. Anything else?” I wished I could have taken back that last part, but it was too late.

“Go clean the kitchen now. Tomorrow, focus on our rooms and the bathrooms upstairs.” He turned to Grant and started a conversation. Clearly, I was dismissed.

It was a relief to get away from them, but my shoulders slumped as I re-entered the kitchen. A huge mess awaited me. Grant had called me Cinderella when I cleaned his room the other day. It was beginning to feel like that was true. Except I was pretty sure that no handsome prince awaited me. Nor that I could get a pumpkin to sprout wheels and replace my car.