His French Maid: The Halloween Honeys Read online

  His French Maid

  Halloween Honeys

  Frankie Love

  About

  “You're filthy dirty. Let me clean you up…”

  Ava McIntyre is the sexiest bookworm on campus, and way too sweet for a jock like me.

  But damn, I want her.

  At a party, we make a bet -- a bet I make sure to win.

  Making good on her word, she comes to my frat house to my clean my dirty room.

  She may be here to mop and dust, but the heat between us is undeniable.

  Ava doesn’t trust men-- especially guys with my track record.

  But I’m going to prove to her that I’m more than meets the eye.

  I’ll clean up my act to prove to this sexy French maid that I’m the only man she needs.

  Halloween comes around once a year. It’s time for Ava to put on a kinky costume and get her man nice and clean! #FluffMyPillow #PolishThis #SpitShine

  Welcome to a new steamy, shared world between USA Today and Amazon Bestselling authors!

  It’s October at Oak Ridge University and the sorority sisters at Mi Alpha Alpha have decided to put on a haunted house!

  Halloween is a spooky time of year, but also sexy AF and these honeys are ready to make some memories that they’ll take to the grave!

  Contents

  Andy

  Ava

  Andy

  Ava

  Andy

  Ava

  Andy

  Ava

  Andy

  Ava

  Andy

  Ava

  The Halloween Honeys

  Also by Frankie Love

  Frankie Love

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  Edited by

  Teresa Banschbach

  ICanEdit4U

  Copyright © 2018 by Frankie Love

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Andy

  Standing in the hallway, I have a perfect view of Ava in the kitchen. I’m avoiding the living room and the Dance Dance Revolution party that’s underway for some godforsaken reason. This is a much better choice. I watch as she pours bourbon in a row of highballs. She pauses to adjust her tortoiseshell eyeglasses.

  This adorable bookworm even has a pencil poking out of the bun that sits tidily on top of her head. What I wouldn't do to pull that pencil out and watch as her long dark hair fall in tendrils around her shoulders. Fuck, it gets me hard just thinking about it.

  She looks so damn sexy, and way too good for me. She’s in a button up blouse and her tits look fantastic in the white collared shirt. And she has on tight, dark denim jeans and a pair of clogs. I didn’t know clogs were sexy. On Ava though, anything is.

  We’re in the Mi Alpha Alpha sorority house for a mixer. The girls like to have the Pi Delta Gammas over, seeing as we’re their next-door fraternity neighbors. It couldn’t have come at a better time. It’s been tense lately on the football field, but watching Ava make an Instagram-worthy row of Old Fashioned’s, eases the tension in my shoulders.

  “Damn bro! You have a thing for that uptight chick?” Connor asks, clapping me on the back and handing me a beer.

  My staring must be a little too obvious. I raise my eyebrows and shake my head, declining the drink.

  Some of the guys have alcohol during the season, but not me. I have too much at stake.

  “You think Ava’s uptight?” I was thinking more like way too smart for a guy like me. Ava is brilliant. I heard she was studying Russian Literature or something fancy like that.

  “People say she’s a snob. Never dates. Curtis asked her out and she said no. And he totally seems like her type.”

  Curtis is our fraternity president and generally known as the smart one. We all have our roles to play, I suppose. Me? I’m the jock. Football means the goddamn world to me.

  “You know,” I say. “Maybe Curtis isn’t her type after all. Maybe the wrong guy is asking her out.”

  “So, why don’t you try?” Connor asks, before taking a swig of his beer. “You clearly have a thing for her.”

  I shake my head. “I just got a lot on my mind. The timing probably isn’t right.”

  Connor chuckles. “Dude, you go out with a different girl every weeknight. And now you don’t have time? I think you’re scared of being rejected by the sexy book nerd.”

  I shrug him off, saying practice today was rough--and it was. Oak Ridge University football practice has been killer all week. The pressure is on. We have to win next week’s game. I may have just signed a contract with Seattle Seahawks to play after I graduate, but I feel more weight on my shoulders than I ever have in my life.

  People may see me as a player; a shallow jock who likes to get laid, but I know I’m more than that. Hell, football hasn’t been about the love of the game in ages. It’s about making bank so I can help my mom and my siblings. The things you do for the ones you love, right?

  Just then, Ava walks toward us with a tray of cocktails. My cock twitches and I wonder if she’d give a guy like me a chance. I’m about to say something when Connor steps in.

  “Hey, Ava,” he says. “Andy wanted to know if you want to play Dance Dance Revolution with him.”

  I lift my eyebrows, not believing he’s trying to be my wingman. Since when do I need a wingman?

  Ava twists her pouty little lips. “Oh, yeah? Why isn’t Andy asking me himself then?”

  I clear my throat. “Connor thinks he’s funny.”

  “What’s the joke?” she asks, frowning. Shit, she thinks she’s the joke.

  “He knows I can’t dance,” I say. “He’s trying to make me look like an idiot in front of everyone.”

  She nods slowly and when a few students pass, taking cocktails from the tray, she smiles at them.

  “Well, I don’t dance either,” she says. “So, it would have been a pass even if you had asked.”

  Connor groans. “Aww, come on. Go in there and take Cadence out of her misery. Do you see her drunk-dancing? It’s worse than her drunk-dialing.”

  Ava and I share a smile at that. Cadence does look pretty tragic.

  “I’m honestly terrible,” Ava says. Cadence comes by and takes the tray of drinks from her, leaving her hands free. I can’t help but think how I’d like to wrap my hand around her own, claim her as mine.

  Even though I have no business thinking about Ava like that. I can do hook-ups with other girls because we’re both in it for the fling. But Ava is not that kind of woman. She’s serious and I know she doesn’t sleep around. If she did, I’d have heard about it.

  “Let’s make a bet,” I say, desperate to have a reason to spend more time with her.

  “Really? What kind of bet?” she asks just as Lola walks past her, letting out an annoyed groaning.

  “Ava,” Lola says. She’s the bossiest girl in the house and I stay clear of her whenever they host a party. “Thanks for the drinks, but girl, you left the kitchen as messy as your bedroom.”

  “Sorry, I’ll clean up in a sec,” Ava says with a grimace. Then shrugging, she looks up at me. “Now you know my dirty little secret. I’m not exactly tidy. I’m the messiest member of this sorority.”

  Connor laughs. “Dude, then you’ve met your match. Andy’s room is a cluster.”

  “I call it organize
d chaos,” I say with a laugh. Surprised to find common ground on an unexpected topic. What else could I learn about this girl?

  “So, the bet?” Ava asks, catching me off guard. I thought she’d look for the first opportunity to walk away. Yet, she’s still here.

  “Right,” I say. “How about the loser has to clean the other person’s bedroom?”

  “Really?” She lifts an eyebrow.

  “Really.”

  I stick out my hand for her to shake, and when she clasps mine, I feel a surge of electricity. I’m getting what I wanted, her hand in mine. Claiming her as my own. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  But I’ll win this dance-off, I’ll make sure of it.

  Why? Because then Ava will have to come to my bedroom.

  Ava

  I tie a bandana around my hair and assess myself in the mirror. Old running shorts, a ratty t-shirt, and flip-flops. Not exactly sexy, but it’s the look I’m going for. Housecleaner extraordinaire.

  With a heavy sigh, I turn away from the mirror and face my best friend, Casey, who, I can tell, is secretly laughing at me, despite her best efforts.

  “I can’t believe I lost a bet to Andy freaking Stafford.” Actually, I can’t believe I even made a bet with him in the first place. I don’t make bets. In fact, I don’t usually do anything risky. Especially, not when it involves brainless jocks who are more concerned about a girl’s bra size than her brain.

  Which is exactly what Andy is, my brain reminds me, despite the little butterflies that take flight in my stomach everytime I think about him. He might be a dumb jock, but he’s still the hottest, dumb jock on campus.

  And now I have to clean his room. God only knows what’s growing in there.

  “I can’t do this,” I groan. “I should stay and help Stacy plan the Haunted House. You know how she gets.”

  “A bet’s a bet,” Casey says, smiling up at me from her spot on my bed. “You don’t want the Pi Delta Gammas to think we renege on our promises. Besides, Stacy is the sorority president for a reason, she can handle this. And don’t worry, I’m sure we will all be emailed a list detailing our responsibilities for the Halloween fundraiser.”

  I sigh, knowing she’s right, I’d never hear the end of it from the guys or my sorority sisters if I don’t go.

  My phone buzzes with a message from Andy.

  I’m waiting for you in my bedroom. You can polish anything in here you’d like.

  I groan, hating the way my insides twist. If any other guy had sent the same text, I would have just rolled my eyes, but with Andy, there’s a part of me that wants to follow through with his innuendos.

  “He’s texting me,” I say, shoving my phone in my back pocket. “I should go.”

  “Wait.” Casey stops me when I’m about to turn to leave.

  “What?”

  “Just, I see that look. Do you have a thing for him?”

  “Andy?” I raise my brows at her and outright lie. “God, no. He is so not my type.”

  “Okay,” she says hesitantly like she doesn’t believe me. “Just be careful. He’s a bit of a flirt, and--”

  “A player,” I add. “Yeah, I know.”

  Which is why, despite how attracted I am to him, I’ll keep him at arm's length.

  “It’s just you’re so sweet and innocent. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean I’m stupid around guys.”

  “I know, sweetie. It’s just I saw the way he was looking at you the other night. Like...”

  “Like what?” There go the damn butterflies again.

  She sighs. “Like he could devour you in one bite.”

  A shiver races down my spine. The good kind. The kind that sends little bolts of electricity throughout my body.

  “I’m just cleaning his room.” Then I remind her, “And you’re the one that said I have to do it.” I smirk at her. “Unless you’re willing to take my place--”

  “Hell, no. I can’t even imagine what’s crawling in the corners of that place.” She winces as she glances around my room. “But I guess you’re used to messes.”

  I chuckle, and turn, saying over my shoulder, “I give you full permission to clean it while I’m gone.”

  I say a quick hello to a few of the other sorority members as I make my way downstairs. Maddie and Lexi are on one of the couches studying, Tessa is stretching by the front door, getting ready for a run, and the oldest of our house, Samantha, a Ph.D. student, whose family has helped fund this place, is just walking up the porch steps when I come out.

  Despite our many differences, the women have become my family. And the guys next door at Pi Delta Gammas, are a type of fungus that’s grown on me. Growing up as an only child with a single mom, I wasn’t used to being around guys when I first got here. Especially, not the kind who drink beer for breakfast and have a kegerator installed next to their fridge.

  They fulfill the fraternity stereotype if ever there was one. But... like they say, there are stereotypes for a reason. These guys are all buff and built. But none of them are quite as brawny as Andy.

  Andy is a jock, and as far as I can tell, not much more than that. Sure, I hardly know him, but I’ve seen him on campus. Joking around, flirting constantly, and never taking things seriously. It’s hard not to feel insulted by how easily he seems to take the college experience.

  For me, as a scholarship student, who worked her tail off to have a seat at this table, it’s my life. I was raised by a single mother, my dad skipped town before I could walk. I want to succeed not just for myself, but so I can help my mom the way she has always helped me.

  Andy though is one of those golden boys who always wins. Gets first place. He’s homecoming king and star quarterback. And now he seems to have taken an interest in me. Sure it was a bet, but I know there was a spark between us.

  Wasn’t there?

  The question has been buzzing around in my mind ever since I lost the bet. He’s not the kind of guy anyone would imagine me dating. And I’m certainly not his type. He goes for blonde cheerleaders and flexible gymnasts. Not lit majors who moonlight at the library.

  “Hey, Ava,” Connor says when I walk through the front door of the frat house. With a bowl of cereal in his hand, he wiggles his eyebrows at me. “I hear our boy, Andy is finally going to mess that pretty little bun of yours up. You ready to get dirty?”

  I roll my eyes at him.

  “Leave her alone.” Andy walks into the room, and that warmth I felt in my core the other night begins to burn because the man is shirtless.

  Holy hell. Joggers slung low on his hips, I can see every cut, every ripped muscle, every delectable inch of bronze skin that looks good enough to eat. He gives a small smirk as he approaches.

  The man knows he’s a god.

  “Cute,” Andy says, reaching out and giving my bandana a small tug.

  “I think our boy was hoping you’d show up in one of those little maid outfits,” Connor says, slapping Andy’s back.

  Andy’s expression turns dark. “I said leave her alone.”

  “Someone's grouchy.” Connor puts one hand up in surrender, before walking away, munching on his cereal.

  “Sorry about him.”

  I shrug. “I live next to a frat house, I’m used to it.”

  Unexpectedly, he takes my hand, “You ready for this?”

  Not even close.

  I should pull back, but I don’t. I just nod, allowing the warmth of his touch to travel up my arm, and fill my entire body as he leads me upstairs. But when he opens the door to his bedroom, I’m shocked by what I find inside.

  Connor wasn’t wrong, Andy’s room is a mess. But not the kind of mess I expected, with empty pizza boxes, and beer bottles lying around. No, the room is littered with books. Sure, clothes, sports gear, and towels are also lying around with no particular home, but it’s the books that draw me.

  “Bad, right?” he asks, wincing when I glance up at him.

  I shrug, m
oving into the room and crouching down to pick up a copy of Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace, which actually looks read, and not like he’d only been using it as a doorstop.

  “You read this?” I ask, shocked since I barely got through the twelve hundred page book myself when I had to read it for a literature class.

  He rubs his neck and nods. “My mom has a thing for Russian literature, so I kind of picked it up from her.”

  “But you’re in Kinesiology, right?”

  “It’s the program they put me in when I got a scholarship here.” He shrugs. “Guess they thought it’d be easier for a dumb jock.”

  His words are light, but I can hear the tension in them. Not knowing how to reply, I look around his room.

  “So, where should I start?” I ask, needing to say something concrete because I feel like if I don’t, I’m otherwise, on a slippery slope. I’m in Andy Stafford’s bedroom. With him. I remember his text, you can polish anything you’d like, and my eyes lower to his groin. I swallow, hard.

  He gives me a cocky grin and I feel my core tighten. This is not the plan. The plan is: get in, get out, go home and study.

  But Andy is stepping closer to me and all I can think about is all those other girls before me. Girls he has kissed and taken to his bedroom. This very bedroom. And I’m scared.

  Not that he is going to kiss me. But that I will like it as much as every other woman. Andy has a reputation as a player, sure, but he also has a reputation for knowing his way around a female body.

  He’s a foot away from me and our eyes lock and I think this is it. He is going to kiss me. Leaning in, I can feel his hot breath, smell his cedar-scented cologne, his manly musk... his. Oh, god, I want this. Why do I want this?