Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Shannon
After work, I rush over to the Kappa Delta sorority house to practice the dance routine for this weekend with my sisters. I stumble through the front door, already fifteen minutes late. Abby has a strict policy about being on time.
She narrows her eyes at me when I walk into the living room, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where were you?”
“My professor wanted to talk to me after class,” I lie.
Only a few of my sisters are aware of my financial situation.
Abby is the last person I would ever tell anything personal.
She still believes my parents have money and that I can afford to buy expensive clothes.
Jordan is her closest friend. She would ever tell on me, not when she helps me conceal the truth.
For a second, Abby glares before extending her hand for me to take my place among my sisters. “Now…” she hisses, turning back to the group, “… where were we before we?”
I roll my eyes at the back of her head, and Jordan notices. A smirk turns up the right corner of her mouth as our eyes meet.
In a hurry, I strip off my jacket and assume my position in line.
Abby raises her hands above her head, gesturing for us to follow.
Our routine is ridiculous. I hate the fact we have to dance on a bar this weekend for money.
It’s for a charitable cause, so I guess that makes it less demoralizing.
Still, I’m not thrilled about shaking my ass for any amount of money for any reason.
But I can’t be the only girl in my sorority to bail.
I rock my hips from side to side, holding my arms out in front of me as I sink to the floor along with my sisters.
We’re dancing to a classic rock song mixed with a techno beat.
Abby’s so rich she knows a famous DJ who sent her the custom song.
She’s convinced it will be the reason we’ll win.
I believe it’s because she knows the owner of The Sixth Floor.
After close to an hour of dancing, Abby dismisses us.
Jordan grabs my hand and leads me up to her bedroom.
A massive four-poster bed occupies the center of the room.
Soft light filters through the windows that span the right side, peeking through the silky white curtains.
The furnishings are expensive, most likely from Crate & Barrel or Pottery Barn.
She drops on the mattress and pats the open space next to her for me to sit. “Everything okay with you?”
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “I missed the bus. That’s why I was late.”
Jordan nods, running her hand over the white duvet. “My dry cleaner got the stain out of the dress. So don’t worry about it. Okay?”
Covering my heart with my hand, I let out a sigh of relief that turns into a genuine smile. “How much do I owe you?”
She waves her hand, a tiny smile crossing her lips. “Nothing. Jamie took care of it.”
My smile quickly turns into a frown.
“I will kill him,” I grunt.
She chuckles. “Technically, Jamie spilled beer on my dress, so I don’t see the harm in letting him pay. He has more money than he knows what to do with, anyway.”
Irritated, I grit my teeth. Why are the rich kids at this school so oblivious to the real world?
Just because they have money doesn’t mean they need to spend every cent.
I work my ass off at Rizzo’s Bakery for ten dollars an hour.
Jamie probably makes more than that in dividends with each breath he takes.
He said his dad is in tech. I know little about his family or how they have amassed so much wealth. All I know is they’re loaded. But I’ve always liked that Jamie doesn’t show it. Aside from his expensive clothes, he could blend with my friends from high school, no problem.
“I’d still like to pay him back,” I tell Jordan.
“He won’t take a cent from you, babe. I wouldn’t even mention it the next time you see him.”
“I’m seeing him soon. I offered to make dinner for him, which also means feeding his teammates.”
Jordan leans back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “What were you thinking? Half the ice hockey team lives in that house. You’ll be cooking from now until the dance competition.”
I laugh. “I’m making pasta and meatballs since I have so many mouths to feed. It shouldn’t be that bad.”
“So, you and Jamie…” She raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on with you guys?”
I shrug, unsure of how to answer. “We’re friends, I guess. Not sure. So far we’ve kept everything casual.”
“You guys hooked up, right?”
“We made out in the backyard at the Delta Sig house. That’s about as far as we’ve gone.”
“But things are getting serious.” Her tone matches her intense gaze. “I can tell he really likes you.”
I snort at her comment. “We’re friends.”
“With benefits,” she adds.
“I guess. I’m not sure what to call it.”
“You wouldn’t offer to make dinner for his teammates if you didn’t like him as more than a friend.” A beat passes between us before she continues, “You and Jamie look cute together, I hope it works out.”
“Thanks, I hope so, too. I like him, but there’s a part of me that’s so afraid to get too close.”
She sits up and pulls her legs into her chest. “Jamie’s one of the good ones. You should give him a chance. Guys like him don’t come around that often. Most of these trust-fund babies are so spoiled rotten they collect women like trophies. But Jamie is different. His dad didn’t come from money.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I remove my cell phone from my pocket to check the time. “I have to get going before I have a house full of hungry hockey players attacking me.”
She covers her mouth and chuckles. “Depending on how you look at it, that’s not a bad thing.”
I roll my eyes at her, laughing.
* * *
Ten minutes later, I knock on Jamie’s front door, my heart slamming into my chest. Anxiety rushes over me in waves, nerves churning my stomach. Why am I so panicked? I want to cook for Jamie. His teammates will only create more of a buffer, one I so desperately need right now.
Jamie opens the door, a bright smile on his lips. He looks adorable with his brown hair falling onto his forehead, his blue eyes illuminated by his boyish expression. Why didn’t I kiss him years ago? How stupid of me not to make my move back in freshman year.
“Hey,” he says, holding open the door for me.
I step inside, and as he closes the door, he hooks his arm around my back, pulling me into a quick hug. “We’re having Italian. That’s about as far as I got.”
“You’re helping me cook,” I remind him. “You can taste test while I work.”
He smirks. “Good, because I’m starving.”
We walk through the living room where we run into the Kane twins—Trent and Tucker.
They’re tall, blond, and gorgeous blond, identical in every way.
I had a hard time telling them apart when we first met.
If Tucker didn’t spend so much time on Greek Row, it probably would have taken me longer to get to know him.
He’s hit on me tons of times over the years.
Every time, I tell him to get lost. He’s a player, never without a woman on his arm.
Trent is less of a manwhore, though not by much. All the guys on the hockey team have their pick of women. Girls throw themselves at them in the most embarrassing fashion.
Trent looks up from his cell phone to wave to me while Tucker makes a comment about me being Jamie’s girlfriend. Jamie doesn’t correct them, and I hate to admit that I like the sound of being his girl.
Before we reach the kitchen, someone comes crashing through the front door, slamming it behind them.
The sudden noise causes me to jump and stumble into Jamie.
He hugs me closer to his side, his muscles flexing beneath the tight fabric stretched across his thick chest. In a long-sleeved compression shirt that fits him in all the right places, Jamie’s body is a work of art.
I haven’t seen him without a shirt yet, but I sure want to.
I turn around to find Killian Kade standing next to Preston Parker. Killian is well over six feet and muscular, with black, wavy hair that sweeps over his forehead.
His eyes find mine, and when they do, his face lights up. “What are we eating?”
“Yeah, I’m hungry,” Tucker adds from the couch in the living room. “What’s for dinner?”
“I told you they would be a pain in the ass,” Jamie says against my earlobe, his breath on my skin sending chills down my spine. “We better get cooking before they annoy you.”
“I can make some snacks real quick,” I say, stepping into the kitchen. “Hand me the tomatoes, some basil, olive oil, and garlic.” I point at the fresh loaf of Italian bread on the table. “I’ll cut the veggies, you slice the bread.”
Jamie nods and then assembles the ingredients in front of me, standing next to me to help prep. Five minutes later, I shove the bowl I prepared between us and tell Jamie to grab a spoon. He helps me top the toasted bread with the tomato, herb, and olive oil mixture.
“Take a tray of this out to the living room and keep your friends out of here. The fewer distractions we have, the faster we’ll eat.”
Jamie lifts a platter of bruschetta. “You got it, boss lady.” He winks and then disappears into the living room, giving me some room to breathe.
I can handle dinner with his friends, though I don’t know if my nerves can. Now, I see why Tucker called me Jamie’s girlfriend because it sure as hell feels like it. And it was all my doing.