Page 26 of Frat House Fling

Good.

Nelson was the only one I didn’t see leaving. He was probably up in his room, which was fine with me. In a funny way, he was growing on me. He was the least polished and certainly the least showered among the men, but he kept to himself and made no demands of me.

I liked that in a frat boy.

It would have been nice to take the time to study for my class, but instead, I had to prep for something else. I spent hours flipping through that cookbook someone had left me, trying to find a meal that would be fancy enough for Bennett but also not so difficult that I couldn’t do it.

That was a tall order.

Finally, I decided on a recipe for beef tenderloin medallions with red wine reduction. I’d never tried a red wine reduction, but I found a demonstration online from a guy with a cooking channel. He explained the process in a way even I could understand, which was pretty remarkable since the chef was a good-looking guy in his mid-twenties.

Seemed like everyone who gained any online fame had to have a gimmick, and his was that he was shirtless under the white apron he wore. I kept getting distracted by the way the muscles in his biceps moved as he stirred. Or the light coating of hair on his well-defined pecs.

Those were things I never used to notice. Maybe living in a frat house with lots of good-looking guys was supercharging my hormones or something. The important point was that I learned some new cooking techniques, not that the instructor was hot.

Nevertheless, I bookmarked his channel for future reference.

Then Saturday morning I got a rude awakening.

Literally.

I woke up from a deep sleep to the sound of knocking on my door. Knocking that didn’t stop.

Blearily, I looked at the time. It was just after seven.

I pulled on my robe, pushed my hair out of my eyes, and stumbled to the door.

Blinking, I pulled it open. A wall of male chests blocked my vision, and I had to tilt my head up to bring the smirking faces into focus.

It was Bennett and Grant.

“Did we wake you, Sleeping Beauty?” Grant looked smug, as if he’d caught me doing something shameful.

I had bedhead and probably red marks on my face. So if he’d been hoping to catch me looking like a sex kitten in the morning, he was probably very disappointed. Good.

But they were still my bosses. “Is there something you need?”

“I wanted to inform you that there will be four of us for dinner tonight,” Bennett said, as if he couldn’t have sent that information in a text.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” I kept having to blink rapidly to bring his face back into focus. It had been a long week, and I was still groggy.

“Do you work in the mornings on Saturday, too?” Bennett asked.

“On Saturdays I volun—tarilygo to my other job.” Oops, I’d almost revealed that on Saturdays, I helped out at the nursing home that had taken such good care of my grandfather during his final weeks. They didn’t need to know that I was headed toward an optional task. Bennett already seemed determined to cut into my mornings as much as he could.

Grant cocked an eyebrow. “How many jobs do you have?”

“A few.” That was all the information they were getting.

His gaze traveled down my body, and I almost gave a smirk of my own. If he’d thought he’d see me in a skimpy little nightgown, he was sadly mistaken. The dark blue terry cloth robe, which had once been my grandpa’s, covered me as thoroughly as a parka would have.

“Well, clean the first floor when you’re back,” Bennett said.

“My room could use a little housekeeping,” Grant said. “For my bed, I prefer hospital corners and a brunette on my pillow. I mean a mint on my pillow.” He winked. “I always get those two words mixed up.”

I had to look away from the intensity of his blue eyes. He was so over-the-top good-looking. If you did a search for “handsome young American man” he’d be in the top ten search results.Maybe the top five. But his personality definitely wasn’t first-page material.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath about either,” I said, and Grant laughed.

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