Page 31 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
“I don’t have the answers, Matt. You’ve got to ease up though. The more pressure you pour on...”
“I know.”
The server arrived, rattling off the day’s specials, and we both ordered the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and side salad.
Once we were alone, Matthew shook his head. “Cooper is not your problem. Sorry for dwelling.”
“Maybe you should stop thinking of Cooper as a problem.”
Matthew blinked, looking surprised. “I-I didn’t mean it that way…”
He searched my eyes, probably for some understanding of the tension suddenly running through me. It didn’t sit well, listening to Matthew talk about Cooper as though he were a problem to solve rather than a person with a value that went beyond his academic performance.
Luckily, the server arrived to refill our drinks—and afterward, I changed the subject, asking Matthew to tell me more about Lena’s college plans.
Any more talk about Cooper and I was sure to tip Matthew off that something was going on. All the more reason to steer clear of all the Rutledge men until I got a better handle on my feelings. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up losing them both.
9
COOPER
The guys jostled one another, high fiving and chest bumping like a bunch of idiots when I entered the frat house after attending a digital marketing class. It was currently my best subject. If only I wanted to spend my life trying to sell stuff to people, I might be set.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I stepped inside.
Kev held up a flyer. “Greek row contest for best philanthropic project.” He shoved the neon pink sheet of paper into my hand and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “We’re a shoo-in, man, thanks to your hard-on for old ladies.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“Oh, right. Old men too. Sorry, dude. You know I’m accepting of everyone under the rainbow.”
He laughed as I shoved him away and flipped him off. Focusing on the flyer, I saw that it was an incentive program to get the frats and sororities to step up their charity work. The office of student life had provided a prize—a one-time grant to add to the coffers of the winning frat or sorority.
“We’re so far ahead of the game, dude,” Tim said. “Geraldine’s house is a perfect case. You’ve been posting before and after pics to your IG, so we’ve got this in the bag. Money in the bank!”
I skimmed the list of requirements. It did seem the housing rehab program I’d created—House Pledge—would qualify. But there was more to it than the guys seemed to think. “Settle down, you guys. It’s a little early to celebrate.”
“Is it, though?” Kev joked. “I say there’s never abadtime for a party!”
The other guys hooted and hollered while I raised my hand, waving the flyer, to get them to quiet down. “Guys, you know I didn’t do this for some contest.”
Aaron gaped at me. He was one of our youngest frat members, but he’d gotten in tight with the upper classmen. “You’re joking, right? We’ve busted hump on that house! We deserve a reward.”
“We deserve a huge-ass reward,” Linc agreed.
“You do know that charity work is supposed to be its own reward, right?” I said wryly.
Kev snorted. “You’re just saying that because Geraldine already gives you rewards. All that sweet, sweet…” He used a salacious tone that had me rolling my eyes. “Iced tea!”
There was a round of laughter before Aaron added, “I was hungover last time Coop dragged us over there. Thought I was gonna puke all over the bushes. If there’s nothing in it for me, then I’m out.”
There was a rumble of agreement, and I felt like a captain facing mutiny. I needed these guys to finish Geraldine’s house, and I already had two more houses lined up. These projects were one of the few things that kept me sane lately.
“I’m not saying we can’t enter the contest,” I said. “But come on, guys, I’ve told you before. This is great for your resume. It’s also great experience for when you have your own house to maintain.”
“Blah blah, you sound like my fucking dad.”
Jesus Christ. When had I turned into the fucking adult around here? I blamed Jonas for graduating and moving away. He’d left me with a pack of children. I used to be the guy vegging on the couch, too lazy to do anything. I’d gotten appointed the frat philanthropy director by a stroke of luck—bad luck, I’d thought at the time.
