Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3)

by Tara Crescent

  I lift an eyebrow. What’s Maisie going to do?

  “Piper’s here,” he tells Maisie. “I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

  “Hi Maisie.” I quite like Wyatt’s ex-girlfriend. She’s smart, funny, and most important to a chef, she’s passionate about food.

  “Hello Piper,” she says calmly. “Listen, there’s going to be a change in the way we do the comment cards this time around. My team is going to be handing them out to diners at the end of their meal. We’re not going to rely on the restaurants to distribute them.”

  “About fucking time,” Wyatt growls.

  I frown at him. “I want to win the contest,” I tell him. “Stop antagonizing Maisie. She’s a judge.”

  Maisie Hayes laughs. “You heard that, Wyatt?” she teases. “You have to be nice to me. Okay, I have to call the other restaurants and tell them about the rule change. Piper, good luck on Friday.”

  “Thank you.” I’ve been floating on a love-induced high, savoring each and every moment I get to spend with Owen and Wyatt, and I’ve forgotten to be nervous about Can You Take The Heat?. But if I win Friday’s round, I’ll be in the finals.

  Josef’s relying on me to win so he can find a better job. Owen and Wyatt are confident that I can pull this off. My friends are rooting for me. If I triumph, the exposure I’ll receive will cause my worries about Piper’s finances to be a thing of the past.

  If I win. Suddenly, my nerves come rushing back. My palms dampen with sweat, and my skin feels cold and clammy. So much is riding on Friday’s dinner service.

  I’m about to go into full-fledged meltdown when Owen pushes open the front door. “I have news,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “Guess who just walked out of Emerson’s with a backpack that I’m willing to wager is filled with money?”

  Wyatt looks up. “Who?”

  “John Page.” At my blank look, he elaborates. “The guy who runs the business association.”

  I grow cold. “He’s one of the four judges,” I say out loud. “And if I’m going up against Emerson, he’ll see to it that I lose.”

  “You don’t know that,” Owen soothes, putting his arm around me. “Besides, there are three other judges.” But he exchanges a worried glance with Wyatt, one I don’t miss. They’re nervous about tomorrow as well.

  Greg Tennant’s wife is in the hospital. Max Emerson’s reputation precedes him. I’ve had a bodyguard, Tomas, shadow me ever since we realized what lengths he’ll go to win, but I still can’t help feeling like we’re missing something.

  Owen’s phone rings and he grabs it. “Mendez,” he says. “Tell me you have good news.”

  His face hardens as he listens to whatever the cop is telling him. “You fucked this up,” he says finally, his voice flat. “I gave you the intel you needed. All you had to do was nab the guy.”

  Mendez says something that causes Owen’s expression to darken. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarls into the phone. “That’s breaking and entering. I’m not doing it. Find someone else.”

  “What was that all about?” Wyatt asks when Owen hangs up.

  He looks disgusted. “Mendez opened the backpack and found wads of cash, and he arrested Page. Except he forgot to read the guy his Miranda rights. John Page called his lawyer, who showed up and screamed bloody murder.”

  “Page got off?”

  Owen nods bleakly.

  “You told Mendez you weren’t going to break and enter,” I say, looking at Owen curiously. “What did you mean?”

  “Mendez wants me to break into Emerson’s and steal their computer. After today’s debacle, he’s not going to be able to get a warrant from a judge, so he’s hoping to circumvent the system.”

  “Can you pick a lock?” There’s so much I don’t know about my boyfriends.

  Owen grins. “My uncle was a pro,” he says. “He taught me how.” He winks at me. “Want to know what other skills I have?”

  A familiar heat builds in my body. I pull my t-shirt over my head and move toward Owen. “Show me,” I purr.

  Owen sucks in a breath, his eyes glued on my bare breasts. “Come closer, Piper,” he says, “And I will.”

  Wyatt stalks toward me with a chuckle, his fingers working on his shirt buttons. “You’re very bold today, baby,” he says, his voice low and sensual.

  My lips curve into a smile. “Are you going to do something about it?”

  He’s about to reply, to tell me exactly what he’s planning to do to me, when my phone rings. Great. Today is the day of the never ending calls. I mutter an apology to them and pick it up. “Hello?”

  “Hello Piper,” my mother says.

  Shit. She can’t see me, but I’ve very conscious that I’m half-naked. One hand instinctively covers my breasts. “Hi mom.”

  She’s in a chatty mood. “I’m here with Angelina, dear,” she says. “We’re eating breakfast, then we’re all going to look at wedding dresses. Are you at the restaurant already?”

  My brain goes blank. I can’t tell my mother the truth about my relationship with Wyatt and Owen. I know I should, but the words catch in my throat. “I’m hanging out with Wendy,” I lie.

  Wyatt’s head jerks up at that, and he gives me a displeased look. Owen shakes his head, looking somber.

  “That’s good, dear. I called because Angelina just thought of the best idea. We’re going to fly to New York on Friday to eat at your restaurant. This way, you can feel like you’re part of the wedding party, even though you can’t make it home.”

  “What?” I squeak out. “Mom, Friday night is the third round of the contest. It’s a really bad time.”

  She makes a scoffing sound. “Don’t be silly, Piper. I know you can manage. There’s going to be twelve of us for dinner. Can you make a reservation for us?”

  She hangs up, ignoring my attempts to protest. I shake my head, trying to process the bombshell she threw at me when I realize that neither Wyatt nor Owen have said anything. Suddenly anxious, I look up at them and take in their implacable expressions. “Is everything okay?” I stammer.

  “You lied to your mom,” Wyatt says. “Why didn’t you tell her where you were?”

  Damn it. I haven’t confessed to Wyatt and Owen that I’m keeping them a secret from my parents.

  “Are you ashamed of us, Piper?” Owen asks quietly.

  “No.” I give him a startled look. “Of course not.”

  “Then why did you tell her you were with Wendy?” Wyatt demands. “Have you told them you’ve moved in with us?”

  I shake my head, feeling miserable. “I can’t tell them. You don’t know my parents. They won’t understand.”

  Wyatt doesn’t look angry. He just looks sad. “Do you want to know why Maisie and I broke up?”

  I nod wordlessly.

  “I thought I could stay away from kinky sex,” he says. “I couldn’t. I suggested a threesome with Owen, and she took us up on it. For a couple of weeks, things were good.” His mouth twists. “One day, out of the blue, she broke up with me. With us. She didn’t want her friends and family to know what she was doing. She wasn’t prepared to deal with the gossip. She wanted something easier.”

  A long time ago, Bailey had warned me that a threesome wasn’t all fun and games. She’d asked me if I could see myself telling my parents the truth. I hadn’t listened. I’d been too distracted by the prospect of a date with Owen and Wyatt and too excited by the possibility of sleeping with them.

  I can’t bury my head in the sand anymore.

  “What do you want me to do?” I whisper.

  “We’re here for you, Piper.” Owen gives me a steady look. “But are you here for us? When it comes down to it, will you choose us, or will you please your parents?” He throws my t-shirt at me. “You probably should put this on.”

  His words feel like a slap in the face. I’m seconds from bursting into tears, but I can’t blame Owen or Wyatt for this mess. I can only blame myself. “I’m going to work,” I choke out. “I’ll be there all day.”


  They don’t say anything. They just watch me leave.

  This time, the rift between us might not be healed by an apology.

  40

  Only you can control your future.

  Dr. Seuss

  Piper:

  I’m avoiding going home to Owen and Wyatt after dinner service. I dial Wendy’s number. “Want to meet me for a drink?”

  She meets me at Piper’s in twenty minutes, by which time I’ve cleaned the kitchen and done the accounts for the day. The two of us settle down with a bottle of red wine in the deserted space. “Another lover’s tiff?” she asks me as we sip at our drinks.

  I nod, a lump in my throat. “My mother called this morning when I was with Wyatt and Owen, and I lied and told her I was with you. Then the three of us had a fight about me coming clean to my parents.” My emotions are still raw from this morning’s conversation, and I don’t want to think confusing thoughts about Owen and Wyatt. “Can we talk about something else? What’s going on with you?”

  She makes a face and takes a long sip of her drink. “Work. All week, I’ve had to deal with a couple that are snarling at each other. Each of them makes more than a million dollars a year, but they’re fighting over who gets to keep the wedding china.” She shakes her head. “It’s enough to make me lose my faith in people.”

  I tilt my head and survey her. I’ve been so busy with my own woes that I’ve failed to realize that Wendy hasn’t been her usual cheerful self. I think she’s right — she has lost faith. She’s been down and dispirited for weeks. “Why don’t you take a vacation?” I suggest gently. “Get away from it all for a couple of weeks? Even a month? You sound like you need a break from your clients.”

  She shrugs. “Maybe. I know it’s the right thing to do, but I can’t seem to get excited by it.”

  “A one-night stand then? How long has it been? I don’t think I’ve heard you talk about a guy in months.”

  “Too long,” she admits. “I’ve given up on men.”

  “You have?” I look up, startled. Wendy is the bawdiest of us, the least likely to give up on sex. “Why?”

  “All the guys I meet are intimidated by me.” Her voice is bitter. “I’m the ball-busting divorce lawyer. The only guys who are interested in me are the deadbeats who are looking for a sugar-mama.”

  “That’s horribly cynical,” I argue.

  “But true.”

  I gaze at her, troubled. “Wendy, that’s not fair. You can’t dismiss all the guys in the world based on a small handful of losers. Remember how we all tried to talk Gabby out of it when she was doing the same thing? There’s lots of nice men out there. You just have to have a little faith.”

  She tosses back her drink, and pours herself another from the bottle. Her hands shake slightly, and I realize she’s well on her way to getting drunk. I’m worried for my friend. “Wendy? What can I do to help?”

  She doesn’t answer my question. “You’re one to talk about faith,” she says. “You have everything in front of you for the taking, and you don’t even see it. Owen and Wyatt are crazy about you, and you’re here drinking with me because you can’t acknowledge how important they are to you. Through this entire competition, they’ve been by your side, and rather than confront your parents with the truth, you’re acting as if the relationship between the three of you isn’t real.” She snorts and drains her glass. “You might as well move back to Louisiana and become the socialite your mother wants you to be.”

  My first, instinctive response is to lash out at Wendy and tell her she’s a bitch when she’s drinking.

  It takes effort, but I fight that urge, because though her words are harsh, there’s truth to them.

  I’ve hidden my relationship with them from my parents.

  Wyatt was brave enough to open himself up to me. He told me about his childhood, and he trusted me enough to expose his wounds to me.

  Owen has, as well.

  But I’ve put nothing on the line, the way they have. I’ve been the biggest coward in the world.

  Not any more. I make myself a solemn promise. As soon as Can You Take The Heat? is over, I will tell my parents about Owen and Wyatt.

  “You’re right.” I rise to my feet. “Come on. You’ve had enough to drink. I’m hailing you a cab, then I’m going to apologize to Owen and Wyatt.”

  “You are?”

  “I am.” I hug my friend. “And Wendy, I’ve been afraid, but I’m not the only one. You’re beautiful and successful. You can have any man you want. All you need is faith.”

  “Faith,” she repeats. She’s a little unsteady on her feet, but for the first time in a while, she sounds hopeful.

  * * *

  Owen and Wyatt are watching a basketball game on TV when I walk in. “Hi,” I greet them tentatively.

  They look up and Wyatt smiles at me. “Come sit down,” he invites.

  I sit between them, and Owen pats his lap. “Want a foot massage?”

  “I thought you were angry with me.”

  “A little,” he admits. “But people can get angry in relationships, and still be very much in love.”

  “You aren’t Maisie,” Wyatt adds. “It’s a sensitive topic for me, and I over-reacted. You’re an adult. I trust you to handle your parents as you see fit.”

  “I’m going to tell them,” I vow. “As soon as the contest is over.” I stifle a moan of pleasure as Owen’s hands knead my inner arch, and I lean on Wyatt’s shoulder. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’ve just never been good at standing up to them.”

  “That’s not true,” Owen says calmly. “You think you aren’t capable of asserting yourself, but when the stakes are important, you are more than capable of it. You attended culinary school despite their refusal to help you with tuition. You took over Aladdin’s Lamp and you persisted with it, even though your parents never valued your efforts. You entered into a partnership with us, despite your mother’s disapproval.”

  Hope trickles through me. They’re right. When the stakes are high enough, I’ve managed to defy my parents. And nothing is more important than this relationship.

  41

  My sun sets to rise again.

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Wyatt:

  There’s a long line of people waiting to get into Piper’s on Friday. Normally, that should fill me with joy, but I’m nervous and I can’t understand why.

  “What do you think Max is planning?” Owen mutters at my side.

  I don’t know. Piper’s been protected at all times, and Maisie has taken away the loophole in the public vote process. Part of me hopes that Max has decided to give up, but I don’t really believe it. If Max wins tonight, he’ll be in the finals. Someone ruthless enough to put an innocent woman in the hospital isn’t going to roll over at this stage of the contest.

  Sasha, our new hostess, greets each group of people with a smile and seats them promptly. She’s put Piper’s cousin Angelina and her wedding party at the table in the front. They’re loud and giggly and even though they’ve only just got here, they’re already running Gina ragged.

  “How are things in the kitchen?” I ask Owen.

  “They’re ready,” he replies. “It’s the calm before the storm.”

  “I hope so,” I say, as the first of the orders starts to makes its way to the kitchen.

  I can’t shake off my feeling that something bad is going to happen.

  * * *

  Piper:

  I’ve just finished calling out a ticket when Gina, the new waitress, walks up to me with a plate in her hand. “Chef Jackson,” she says nervously. “One of the diners sent back their food. He said the meat tasted off.”

  I slice off a piece of the offending fried chicken and taste it. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. I frown at her. “What’s his problem?” I mutter. “Fine, we’ll make him another. Salim, one order of fried chicken, please. Right away.”

  “Yes Chef,” he calls out calmly. I watch him work for a second, then
turn my attention back to the pass. Kevin’s brought up two orders of the jambalaya, overflowing with chicken, smoked ham and Andouille sausage. I plate them up with sides of collard greens, and hand them to Kimmie. “Table Nine doesn’t seem to like the catfish,” she remarks as she takes the plates of jambalaya.

  Sure enough, in about five minutes, she’s back, carrying three plates of catfish. “They say the fish smells fishy.”

  “Seriously?” I bite into the battered fish, and it’s perfect.

  Owen pushes the double doors open and comes in. “What’s with the returns?” he asks. “I’ve never seen so much food get sent back. Do you guys need a hand here?”

  “Taste this.” I hand him a fork. “Table Nine sent it back because it smells fishy.”

  He brings the plate up to his nose. “Smells fine,” he remarks, cutting off a piece of the fish and chewing. “Tastes better.” He grins at me, though there’s concern in his eyes. “Let me go sort them out. I’m good at pouring on the charm.”

  I chuckle. “I know.”

  But the problem doesn’t go away. The food keeps coming back all evening long. Fried chicken, battered fish, grilled lamb chops, the strip steak, even my mac and cheese. Whatever we serve, it gets sent back to the kitchen.

  Something’s wrong. This has to be Max Emerson’s doing.

  * * *

  Wyatt:

  “I am going to kill Emerson.”

  Owen’s voice is low and fierce, his face tense with anger. I feel exactly the same way. Rage fills me at Max’s move. He couldn’t threaten Piper, and he couldn’t stuff his ballot with fake customers. So he’s resorted to this.

  There can be no other reason for the returned food. I’ve tasted the dishes sent back to the kitchen, and so has Owen. Over the last couple of months, I’ve eaten many amazing meals at Piper’s, and the food is even better today than it usually is.