4. Hailey
4
HAILEY
I stood back and surveyed the results. Not bad. Not bad at all. And now I could say I’d cleaned at least one room in this gigantic place.
The room that they’d assigned me wasn’t huge, but now that it was clean, it was a big step-up for me. I’d spent over a month sleeping on the couch at Tori’s apartment. Before that, I’d spent a lot of my nights in the armchair in my grandfather’s room at the nursing home.
This room had a bed, a desk, a dresser, and a bookcase. My stuff, which I’d carried over in two loads, fit easily. The room hadn’t been filthy, but it had taken me a couple of hours to dust, clean the windows, and vacuum. I’d managed to find all the necessary cleaning supplies in a small closet at the end of the hallway. Hopefully there was one like that on each floor—I didn’t relish the idea of lugging cleaning supplies and vacuum cleaners up and down the stairs.
The windows had taken the longest for the simple reason that I kept pausing to admire the views. Being on the second floor was an advantage in a town surrounded by mountains. My hometown, Janson Falls, was only thirty miles away, but it was closer to the edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains, not nestled in the middle of it like here.
The only thing the room didn’t have was a bathroom. There were two on this level, so I didn’t have to go far, but I didn’t relish sharing a bathroom with strange men. Then again, there weren’t supposed to be many of them living here this summer. The only guy I’d seen so far today was Ian.
I pulled a water bottle out of my bag and drank deeply as I leaned against the desk, looking around. I had my back to the spectacular view, but a clean room with a door I could close was more exciting to me right now. Sure, the nameplate on the door said Edward, but that was okay. It was mine for the summer, and I thought it looked pretty damn good.
The only thing that didn’t look better after my cleaning spree was the bed. It was a double bed, and my sheets and comforter were for a twin bed. I’d made them look as nice as I could, but part of the mattress was bare. It didn’t look so great, but it had to be more comfortable than the sofa at Tori’s place.
A knock on the door startled me.
Pushing away from the desk, I ran a hand through my hair and then remembered that I’d put it in a ponytail while I cleaned. I pulled out the elastic, smoothed dust off of my t-shirt, and opened the door.
It was Bennett, the fraternity president. I had to take a step back and crane my neck to see him. He had to be well over six feet.
He peered over my head—which wasn’t hard for him to do—and looked around. “I guess you can actually clean.”
I nodded, a bit nervously. He was a big guy, a stranger, and my boss, more or less. Those were all good reasons to be wary.
And then he stepped into the room, making it instantly feel crowded. His eyes fell to the bed, and he shook his head, obviously disapproving. But he didn’t say anything about it.
“If you’re done making your own space look better, maybe you can start on the rest of the house.”
It clearly wasn’t a request.
“Of course.” Now that I had a place to stay, I was more determined than ever not to screw this up.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked pointedly.
I looked down at my shirt. It was fine, no stains on it from cleaning. My jean shorts weren’t long, but they weren’t short, either. Was he objecting to them? It was summer, after all. “Is there something wrong with this?”
Bennett arched an eyebrow, and my face flushed as an image of that French maid costume yesterday flooded my mind. But when his mouth opened, I jumped in hastily. “These are old clothes,” I said. “It won’t matter if they get dirty while I’m cleaning.”
He stared me down for a few moments longer, and I knew my cheeks were pink, if not outright red. We both knew he didn’t give a crap about my clothes being ruined. Bennett was dressed casually—alight green button-down shirt with a collar and white shorts—but the clothes looked to be of good quality. His clothing probably cost more than my textbooks last year, and those had been astronomically high.
Finally, he gave me a curt nod. “Let’s go.”
Bennett strode out of the room, and I followed, feeling like I’d dodged a bullet. But what could I have done if he’d made me change into something he deemed more appropriate? I needed this job, and I needed a space to stay. Both of those things likely depended on staying on Bennett’s good side—if he even had one.
With his long legs, he was already halfway to the stairwell by the time I got the door closed behind me. It felt strange not to lock up after myself, but this wasn’t a hotel or an apartment. Hopefully the fraternity brothers knew how to respect people’s privacy.
Yeah, that was what frat boys were known for—respectful attitudes. I shook my head as I jogged to keep up with him. He flew down the stairs, and I was almost dizzy when we arrived at the first floor.
Grant was in the big room, a bottle of beer in his hand. He lifted the bottle toward me like some kind of boozy greeting. “Did you finish my room yet?”
“I’ll be going in your room?” I asked uneasily.
“Yes, mine and everyone else’s. They’re part of the house you’ve been hired to clean.”
“It’s a big house.”
Bennett cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes colder than his cousin’s. “So?”
I looked away, trying to think quickly. I needed this job, so I couldn’t challenge him. Either of them. Then again, if they had a completely unrealistic idea of what I could accomplish in a day, that might lead to me losing the job, too.
“Would it be okay if, on every other day, I just focus on cleaning the common areas? And then on opposite days, tackle the bedrooms?”
“Sounds good to me,” Grant said.
“As long as everything gets done,” Bennett said, somewhat sternly, as if I’d asked if I could take a three-hour nap each day.
The sense of unease settled in my stomach. These were rich, privileged young men. How on earth would they know what it took to keep a house like this clean? Even I didn’t know, since it was so big, but I was pretty sure I had a better guess than them. “For the individual rooms, what does that entail?”
Bennett frowned again, as if I was trying to get away with something. “Dusting, vacuuming, emptying trash. General cleaning.”
I nodded, and tried to purse my lips together, but a question slipped out. “But aren’t there like twenty bedrooms?”
“But only a handful are occupied this summer. Focus on them first,” Grant advised. His long legs dangled off the counter as he looked me over. Everything about him screamed rich kid with too much time on his hands, but he was a student. He had to do more than just lounge around all day. Maybe.
“Okay, I’ll do that. Can someone point those rooms out to me?”
Bennett looked irritated, as if I should just know, but Grant nodded. “Sure. No one’s staying on the first floor this summer. Grant and I have suites up on the third floor. That leaves four guys staying on the second floor—plus you.”
That still didn’t tell me where exactly the rooms were, but Grant was still being more helpful than his cousin.
As if on cue, Bennett took over the conversation again. “And, of course, you’ll be cooking dinner for us.”
My heart sank. I’d almost forgotten about that. Maybe I’d purposefully forgotten? My cooking skills weren’t the greatest. “Just dinners, right?”
Bennett studied me a moment and then nodded. “We usually eat on campus or at restaurants in town for lunch.”
“And we’re usually too hungover in the morning to worry about breakfast.” Grant laughed at his own quip and shot me a wink.
“So today, you can start in the kitchen. The grocery delivery won’t be until Friday, but you can go through the refrigerator and get rid of anything spoiled and clean the shelves.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to keep the doubt out of my voice. “All three of them?”
“That’s the one for food,” Grant said, pointing to the one nearest us. “The other two are mostly used to stock drinks.”
“Drinks?” I had an image of a fridge full of water bottles and soda.
“Beer,” Grant clarified. “We are a fraternity, after all.”
“Right.”
“After you clean out the fridge, you’ll restock the other two. There are cases downstairs and to the right.” He jerked his head in the direction of two doors on the other side of the kitchen. One looked like it led outside, and the other one must have led to the basement.
“Okay.” Was I supposed to go down there now? No, Bennett had said to clean the fridge first. I walked over to it, feeling self-conscious as the two of them watched me. But I felt a little better when I opened the door of the fridge. No rank smells greeted me. The glass shelves weren’t covered in spills. And there wasn’t much food. Suddenly, I remembered something they’d said at the interview yesterday. “Am I supposed to go to the grocery store, too?”
“You can do that tomorrow,” Bennett said.
“But what about dinner tonight?”
“We already have plans. But tomorrow you’ll go to the store and cook dinner for us.” Bennett clapped his hands together as if done with the conversation. “Do a good job, Hailey.”
I almost said yes, sir before I realized how absurd that was. Yes, he was technically my boss, but he was also a guy only a few years older than me, and a fellow student. “Will do,” I said instead.
Bennett strode out and Grant followed behind. When he reached the door, he paused while Bennett continued on ahead.
“Help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge,” Grant said. It sounded like an afterthought, like he wasn’t used to thinking about other people’s needs. And why would he? He’d probably had maids and cooks his whole life. But still, I was grateful for the offer. If I had to pay for my own food this summer, that would cut into the amount I could save up. And if I couldn’t save enough to afford housing in the fall semester, this would all be for nothing.
It took me less than an hour to clean the fridge. Not much in the freezer was expired, but most of the food in the fridge was old. I threw most of it out and scrubbed the shelves. The smell of bleach filled the air. Then I put back the condiments and other unexpired things.
I took a short breather and filled a glass with chilled ice water from the refrigerator door. When I was a kid, I’d always thought those were so cool—like having your own drinking fountain in your home.
Then I pulled open the stainless-steel door of the second fridge.
Yep, this one was definitely for drinks. There were a dozen or so bottles on different shelves, organized by type There were only two or three of each kind, so I could see why it needed to be restocked. But lugging bottles of beer up and down the stairs didn’t sound like a very fun task to me, so I stalled by cleaning a spot on the back wall of the fridge where something had spilled. I had to get on all fours and duck my head to see it clearly. It was hard to reach, so it took me two or three minutes to get it all.
And in that time, two people entered the kitchen. I discovered this fact when I pulled my head out and sat back on my heels. Something large loomed over me, and I yelped. My hand, the one holding the rag, flew to my chest and I felt the cold spread of dirty water on my shirt.
“Sorry,” Grant said with a smirk. He was on the right, Bennett was on the left. They were both peering down at me, and from this angle, they looked about ten feet tall instead of their usual six and change.
“I was just getting a stain,” I mumbled, dropping the hand with the cleaning rag down to my side. I wondered how long they’d been staring at me. I didn’t even want to think about the only parts of me that had been visible when I’d had my head in the fridge.
“So we saw,” Grant said, still smirking. It wasn’t hard to imagine his blue eyes glued to my ass, and I shifted uncomfortably. I wished I weren’t practically kneeling at their feet, but neither one of them stepped back, and the fridge door was to my back.
Bennett didn’t have a smug look on his face like his cousin. He just stared at me impassively.
“I cleaned the other fridge,” I said, still uncomfortable. “And, um, I was just about to go downstairs and get the beer.” I shifted forward, trying to find a way to get to my feet. After a long moment, Bennett stepped back, but not Grant. He leaned down, his head a foot away from mine, and plucked a brown bottle off of the top shelf.
Then he held out a hand for me.
“I’m fine,” I said, but he didn’t budge.
Taking his hand seemed the lesser of two evils compared to continuing to kneel at his feet, but it also felt a little like a power play on his part—as if he wouldn’t let me move until I did what he wanted.
Reluctantly, I put my hand in his, feeling his long fingers close around mine. He tugged me easily to my feet, but didn’t stop there. He held on just a second too long, pulling a little too hard, and I crashed into his chest, my free hand pressing against his stomach as I tried to steady myself.
It was just a second, maybe more, but I could feel the heat from his skin under his shirt. I could feel the hard, defined abs there.
Just like he clearly wanted me to.
I stepped back hastily and closed the refrigerator door, putting several feet between us. My hair was messed up and I could feel the wet spot on my shirt from the rag, but I didn’t care. I was just glad not to be at their feet anymore.
Bennett rolled his eyes, either at Grant’s action or my reaction. It was frustrating that he and his cousin looked like models for men’s summer wear when I was so disheveled.
Grant looked amused, and I wanted to slap that smirk off his face—if I could reach that high. But then he held up his bottle. It had a white label, and the words were in a foreign language that looked a bit like German.
“This is the only beer I drink. I have it flown in from Luxembourg a couple of times a year. There should be twelve in the fridge at all times.”
“Okay.”
“And it’s only for him, so don’t serve it to any of the other brothers,” Bennett said. I nodded, but it still sounded jarring to hear these guys refer to each other as brothers. “Get some of each of the other kind, too.”
“Okay, how many?”
“As much as fits. This is a frat house, we’re supposed to have beer.”
“Never know who’s going to stop by,” Grant added.
“And the other fridge?” I desperately wanted this conversation to be over. Even marching up the stairs holding heavy bottles seemed better than this. I needed to catch my breath. It felt like I’d been holding it since I first looked up and saw these two towering over me.
“You can ignore it for now,” Bennett said, as if he was granting me a special favor.
“It’s mostly used when we have parties,” Grant added.
“I see.” I stepped around them, a bit like you would a snarling dog. “I’ll go get the beer now.”
“Downstairs and to the right,” Grant reminded me as I opened the door and started down the stairs. Hopefully, the basement would be quiet and devoid of super tall frat boys with problems respecting personal space.
I kind of got my wish. The basement was much quieter, but there was a hum of a machine and a steady pounding sound. I turned to the right and immediately came to the door of a gym, which had free weights, treadmills, rowing machines, and large exercise equipment with weights and barbells. It was better equipped than the local gym in my hometown.
The sound was coming from the treadmill in the corner, where a shirtless man jogged steadily, his shoes hitting the moving belt at an even pace.
I couldn’t see his face, just dark hair and tan skin. But what really caught my eye was the tattoo on his back. It was full of intricate designs and patterns, and it made me curious to see more, but I couldn’t exactly go over there and ask him if I could take a look.
I continued on and came to another room. Turning on the light revealed a storeroom with lots of shelves, most of which contained cases of beer. There were also shelves stocked with party supplies. Red cups, napkins, plates, and more. On the far wall was a cabinet of some kind. Stepping closer, I saw it was filled with bottles of wine, all lying on their sides, the cork end facing out. There had to be nearly a hundred bottles. These guys sure took their drinking seriously.
With a small sigh, I located Grant’s beer first. It was in a sturdy cardboard box with more of the foreign language on it. I couldn’t read a word. The box was heavier than I thought, but it seemed like it would be easier to carry the beer in it.
After that, it was just a matter of seeing which types of beer were already in the fridge, finding them downstairs, and carrying them up.
Except that got pretty tiring after a while. I took a breather to break down the boxes in the kitchen, but I couldn’t figure out where to put the recycling. I’d have to ask the next time Bennett and Grant materialized over me.
By my sixth trip, I was flagging. Holding a six-pack in each hand, I trudged out of the storage room and nearly ran into the man leaving the gym.
“Whoa,” I yelped, coming to a stop in front of him. He’d been wiping his forehead with a towel, and when he lowered it to peer at me with light grey eyes, I saw it was Theo.
“Hi, Hailey.” He had an easy smile even though his face was a little flushed from his run. “Fancy running into you here.”
I smiled because we had almost run into each other, and also because he’d used my name. I had a feeling that, to Bennett and Grant, I was just the help. “Hi.”
He glanced down, ignoring the stain on my shirt, and spotted the beer. Slinging his towel over his shoulder, he immediately took them from me. “They’ve got you filling the beer fridge?”
“Yes,” I said, rolling my aching shoulder.
“Just the kind of glamorous task you were expecting when you signed on, right?”
“Something like that.” It was hard not to stare at his body, still glistening with sweat from his run. He had tattoos plastered across his sculpted pecs. On the right side was some kind of timepiece, like an old-fashioned pocket watch. And on the left side was writing in yet another foreign language. Was nothing around this place in English?
He caught me looking. “Want me to translate?”
I blushed. “No, I was just… I can carry those.” Not meeting his eyes, I nodded at the beer he now held.
“So can I.”
“But it’s my job.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t. Come on.”
He was halfway up the stairs before I was composed enough to follow. I had a good view of his calves, a body part I hadn’t spent a long time studying in the past. But his were nice. Tan. Strong-looking. And lightly covered in dark hair.
It was strange, but I wasn’t usually in the habit of admiring men’s bodies. In high school I hadn’t dated. I’d spent my time studying, wanting to give myself the best chance of earning a scholarship as possible. Then in the year after high school, I’d worked two jobs and taken care of my grandfather, so there was no time then either.
During the school year, a handful of my male classmates had asked me out, but it was hard enough to keep up with my classes even without that kind of distraction.
And Theo’s body was sure distracting.
As we arrived back in the kitchen, it occurred to me that he was also the only one in this house who seemed friendly. So, I convinced myself that that was the reason he fascinated me. If he’d been another clone of Bennett and Grant, I would’ve run for the hills.
Except, who was I kidding, I couldn’t do that. Not if I wanted a roof over my head once the summer was over.
Theo set the beer on the counter and went straight to the sink. As I put the bottles away in the fridge, I kept peeking at him out of the corner of my eye. He washed his hands and then splashed water on his face, running his hands through his short, dark hair. When he turned around, I had my head down, pretending to concentrate on flattening the cardboard boxes from the six packs.
But when the silence grew, I finally looked up and met his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Do you have more to bring up?”
I took a quick glance in the fridge. Most of the shelves were full. “Just one more trip.”
“Want me to help?” he offered.
“No, that’s okay. I’m sure you need to get going.” My gaze fell back to the tattoos on his chest, which were still damp from his workout. “You probably need to shower or something.”
Crap, why had I said that? Now I was thinking about him wearing even less. But Theo just grinned. “Yeah, probably a good idea, especially since we’re going out tonight. Bennett told you about that, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. But tomorrow night, I’m looking forward to eating something that you’ve cooked.” He gave me one last smile and then strode out.
I leaned against the fridge, feeling tired and somehow defeated. This part, the cleaning and stocking, I could do. But cooking? I’d prepared the food for my grandfather and me, but not for young men who likely had big appetites and highbrow tastes.
This was part of the job, but I sure wished that they could eat out tomorrow night, too.
And maybe every night from here on out as well.