Page 1 of Frat House Fling

1

HAILEY

“Why do you want this job?”

The question was normal, but absolutely nothing else about this interview was. For one thing, the guy who’d asked the question was wearing a tight Henley shirt that outlined his biceps. He was sitting on a huge sofa that could’ve fit twenty of me. He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, watching me intently.

The guy next to him leaned lazily against the back of the couch with his long legs straight out in front of him, his feet resting on a coffee table. The sun from the row of windows behind me hit his face, emphasizing his blond hair and tan skin. With his board shorts and sleeveless T-shirt, he was more dressed for the beach than an interview. And while the weather was warm this summer, we were nowhere near the ocean.

“Hailey?” That was the blonde one.

Right, the interview. Even in this unconventional setting, I needed to impress these young men. If I didn’t get this job… well, that was an alternative I couldn’t let myself think about. Ihadto get it, or I’d have no money and no place to live thissummer. That knowledge made it hard to breathe, let alone form coherent answers.

But how? “It looked interesting,” I said, underplaying the fact that my friends had thought I was insane to apply. “And likely more fun than working a cash register or boxing up orders.” Those were both things I’d done in the past, but I didn’t mention that.

An eyebrow cocked at a jaunty angle as the blond one peered at me with vivid blue eyes. “We’re all about fun here.”

“So I’ve heard.” The words slipped out before I could help it, and he grinned. I thought he said his name was Grant, but I didn’t retain information well when I was nervous. And the way these two good-looking men had towered over me was enough to make any woman nervous.

“I bet.”

It was clear he knew the reputation this place had. I’d heard about the men of Rho Kappa Alpha since my first day on campus ten months ago. Even in a private college in a small mountain town—which was about as far as you could get from a party school—they had a reputation for going all out. The stories were wild: a wall of kegs, music loud enough to be heard halfway across campus, and nearly ever party ending with the cops being called or someone in the hospital. Or both.

Last year, some girls in my biology class had tried to get me to join them at a party at this very house, and I hadn’t even been tempting. My life consisted of studying and working, not getting my stomach pumped at the hospital. Or having some drunken frat boy try to corner me in this massive house.

And now I was contemplating working for these men.

And living in this house.

Both Bennett—he was the intense, uptight one—and his cousin were looking at me expectantly, so I elaborated.

“I like the fact that room and board are included.” That part was definitely true. “That way, I can save on money for housing for a couple of months.” That part was not, since I had had no money to save. And after today, no housing. I’d been unceremoniously banned from staying any longer in my friend’s crowded apartment, and I had exactly enough money for one night in a hotel. And that was tonight.

But it didn’t seem wise to advertise how desperate my situation was. Not these guys.

“Are you a good cook?” Grant asked as he stretched his arms behind his head. His shirt pulled against his sculpted abs—which was likely why he’d stretched in the first place. He wanted me to notice, and I had.

I looked away. “No complaints,” I said. In reality, I’d only ever cooked for myself and my grandfather, but he’d never criticized anything I made.

“What’s your specialty?”

My brain raced and my hands trembled slightly, so I clasped them together on my lap, hoping the guys wouldn’t notice. But that brought both their gazes to my legs, and I wished I’d worn a longer skirt and a looser shirt. But I’d borrowed the interview outfit from my friend Tori. She was the one I had been staying with until her roommates had ratted us out to their landlord. If I hadn’t left yesterday, she would’ve been kicked out, too.

Since I needed this job so badly, I’d dressed to impress. But I’d imagined interviewing at a table, not on a low sofa that had probably absorbed so much alcohol over the years that one birthday candle would set it ablaze.

Not that it was shabby looking. Nothing in the huge lounge was. Heavy wooden furniture. Top of the line sofas and chairs. A gleaming bar at one end of the room and a huge fireplace at the other. The men of Rho Kappa Alpha were the most powerful on campus. They were the sons of CEOs and senators. Outside thishouse, they ran the school. Aced their classes. Networked. And moved up the metaphorical ladder a person like me would never even begin to climb.

But inside this huge frat house? Well, I’d heard that they worked hard and partied harder. And that worried me, but it wasn’t like I had a lot of options at this point.

“What about cleaning?” Bennett asked.

That was firmer territory for me. “I kept my grandfather’s house clean for the ten years I lived with him.”

“But you don’t live there anymore?” Grant asked.

“No.” He’d passed away five months ago. The house we’d lived in was a rental, and I moved out in February. Moisture flooded my lashes, and I looked away, trying to steady myself. The last thing I wanted to do was to cry in front of these polished, privileged men.

Looking anywhere but their direction, I took in the sheer size of the room. Dusting this common area alone would take hours. And the colossal house was three stories tall and likely had a basement. Probably upwards of twenty-five men lived here during the regular school year. Could I keep up with the work and still attend my classes? Then again, I had no choice. “How many guys are staying here over the summer?”

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