Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3) (10 page)

I
work
through the lunch service, my brain a seething mass of confusion.

This wasn’t the same as the night with the vodka. Then I could have blamed the alcohol. Today? It’s early in the morning. The only person responsible for my behavior is me.

I want them.

I sauté, fry, and bake on auto-pilot, powering through one ticket after another. After about an hour, I hear someone come into the kitchen. I lift my head up to tell Kimmie that her order isn’t ready, but it isn’t Kimmie. It’s Owen.

“Hey Piper,” he says, his expression wary. “The vegetable vendor is here. Do you want to talk to him?”

The look on his face makes my insides twist. I don’t want things to be weird with the three of us because of my impulsiveness. Their friendship has become really important to me. “I do,” I tell him, wiping my hands on my apron and untying it. “I’ll be right out. Josef, can you and Kevin manage in here for about twenty minutes?”

We’ve been much busier at the restaurant. As the money flows in, I’ve increased Kevin’s hours. Today, he’s working both the lunch and dinner shifts. He looks up now as he hears his name mentioned, and grins cheerfully. “We’ve got it, Chef.”

Josef nods as well. “Nothing we can’t handle,” he agrees.

I follow Owen out. “Josef’s work ethic seems to have improved,” he remarks quietly as we walk to the front.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that too.” I seize on the topic as a way to avoid the awkwardness between us. “The changes around here have been good for him. Just as well,” I quip dryly, “since I can’t afford to buy him out.”

“Yet.” He squeezes my shoulder. “It won’t be long, Piper Jackson, before you take the city by storm.”

There’s a lump in my throat as I hear the confidence in his voice.
What are you doing, Piper? Are you willing to lose this friendship for a night of pleasure?

Wyatt’s still sitting at the same table we kissed at, talking to a grey-haired guy in a checked shirt. “Ah, here’s Chef Jackson,” he says, as we walk up. “Piper, this is Duncan Bright. He runs a cooperative that works with several farms in the state.”

“Mr. Lawless tells me you’re looking for locally sourced food,” Duncan says. “We supply with several restaurants in Manhattan, including some of Lawless and Lamb’s other properties.”

Duncan Bright’s prices are reasonable, and he comes highly recommended by Wyatt and Owen. We quickly hammer out a deal. When Duncan leaves, I rise as well. “I should get back to the kitchen.” I avoid looking at Owen and Wyatt. It’s too awkward.

“Sure,” Wyatt starts to say, then I hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Oh my God, Piper, look what you’ve done to the place!”

It’s Wendy. She comes up to us, a big smile on her face. “Bailey’s been raving about how amazing the place looks,” she says. “I had to come check it out.” She notices Wyatt and Owen for the first time. “Hi,” she introduces herself, “I’m Piper’s friend Wendy. You must be Wyatt Lawless and Owen Lamb.”

They get to their feet politely. “Good to meet you.” Owen flashes her a grin. “Are you part of the mysterious Monday night drinking club?”

She laughs. “It’s officially called the Thursday Night Drinking Club. We just meet on Mondays because that’s when Piper can make it.” She’s looking around. “Look what you’ve done,” she says, her voice admiring. “Piper, this is brilliant.”

“I couldn’t have done it without Owen and Wyatt.” It isn’t just Josef’s passion that’s been rekindled as a result of the changes here. It’s mine as well.

I show Wendy around. Then a group of eight people walk through the door and I groan. “I better get back to the kitchen to make sure things are under control. Give me about fifteen minutes?”

“Sure,” Wendy says. “I can chat with Owen and Wyatt in the meanwhile.”

Wendy’s smile switches off the instant Piper heads back to the kitchen, and she glares at us. “So,” she says, her voice heavy with insinuation, “the two of you and Piper.”

I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about. Thoughts of the three of us have been on my mind ever since I met Piper. “You don’t approve of us.”

“I don’t know what I think of you yet,” she corrects, her voice steely. “Here’s what I do know. Piper’s the nicest person in the world. She’s good-natured, she’s kind, and she’s hard-working. She’s practically perfect, but she has one flaw. She’s hopeless at advocating for herself. Her parents treat her like crap, and she lets them walk all over her. And I’m not sure you guys are much better. You treated her like dirt.”

“Treated. Past tense. We were wrong.”

She continues as if I haven’t spoken. “She’s vulnerable. Then you guys show up and wave a magic money wand, and all her problems are solved. Tell me how it’s right that you get involved with her.”

“You’re misjudging us,” Owen says quietly. His fingers are balled into fists at his side. “We would never hurt Piper.”

Wendy is relentless. “She hasn’t been on a date in five years.” Her dark eyes pierce us. “She should be treated like a princess. She slaves away in front of a hot stove all day. She deserves flowers and wine and chocolate, and she needs someone who will stick around. She is entitled to more than a quickie.”

“Why are you telling us this?” I keep my voice even, though I’m reeling with shock on the inside.
Piper hasn’t been on a date in five years?
  

“Because she’s my friend and I love her. If you’re going to stick around, then make your move. But if you’re just looking for easy pussy, think again. You hurt my friend and I will hunt you down and make you regret the day you were born.”

I like Wendy. She’s like a protective mama bear. “You have nothing to worry about.” I meet her gaze squarely. “Whatever happens, we have no intention of hurting Piper.”

She gets to her feet. “Tell Piper I had a work emergency.”

As she turns away, I notice her handbag is the same color as the one Piper was carrying. “Nice bag,” I tell her.

Her voice is as dry as kindling. “Isn’t it? I bought it from her a month back, when she wasn’t sure if she could make rent, and she couldn’t come to the two of you for help.”

When Owen and me had looked at her and assumed the worst.

“She has us now,” I reply. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

She makes a noise that’s half-snort, half-scoff, and leaves. Once she’s gone, I turn to Owen. “Piper hasn’t been on a date in five years?”

“So I heard.” His expression is unsettled.

“I think we should ask her out properly, not grope her in her restaurant.”

Owen gives me a searching look. “You heard what Wendy said. You can read between the lines. Piper doesn’t do casual sex.”  

“I’m not looking for casual sex.” That’s always been my problem. I have a void in me that I ache to fill. The problem isn’t that I want too little. It’s that I want too much.

“Okay.” Owen takes a deep breath. “Me neither. But in case you haven’t noticed, there’s three of us. A ménage is a one-time thing for most people. You, more than anyone else, should know that.”

“One step at a time.” I lift my head up in greeting as Piper walks back to us. “Hello again.”

“What happened to Wendy?” Piper asks, sitting down. Her hand massages her neck. “God, what a day. It almost makes me long for the days when the only people eating here were the two of you.”

I chuckle. “Here, let me.” I knead at the tight knots of stress in her neck. “You’re working too hard. We should hire a couple of line cooks to help you out. We can afford it.”

“Once the auditor comes and goes.” Her voice is anxious. “I don’t want to give them any openings.”

“Shh. Relax.” My fingers keep working to ease her tension.

“Wyatt, what are you doing?” she whispers.

“Don’t overthink this, Piper.”

“I kissed
both
of you,” she blurts out. She’s holding herself erect, her body language betraying her agitation.

I’m a little surprised. Part of me was prepared for her to pretend that it didn’t happen. “Do you want us to forget about it?” My heart beats faster in my chest as I wait for her answer.

A long moment of silence passes. “No,” she says finally. Her cheeks go pink as she looks at both of us. “You weren’t weirded out by what I did. Why?”

Owen is more direct than I am. “Should we have been?” he asks her.

“Piper,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “We’re not going to pressure you, and we’re not going to judge you. Tell us what you want.”

She hesitates, biting her lower lip. Finally she takes a deep breath and appears to reach a conclusion. “I want you. Both. Does that make me a pervert?”

“
Pervert
is such a strong word,” Owen replies calmly. “The two of us want you as well. But not now, and not like this.” He reaches forward and laces his fingers in hers. “Have dinner with us Sunday night.”

“I work Sunday nights.”

“I know. Come over once you’re done.”

“Why not today?” Her expression is curious, careful.

“We don’t want to rush you into anything,” I reply. “Right now, our hormones are raging, and we aren’t thinking coherently.”

“Oh.” Her face falls. “I understand. You want time to change your mind.”

“No,” Owen cuts in. “We’ve wanted you from the first day we saw you. We aren’t going to change our minds.”

“Oh,” she says again, this time in a different note, on a sharp intake of breath. “Sunday night?”

“It’s a date.”

Though my voice sounds confident, I can’t help remembering the sadness I’d felt when my relationship with Maisie had ended. I hope I can keep from repeating the same mistake with Piper.

“
H
ere’s the list
.” I push the piece of paper toward Mendez. “Three of them are clean, including Piper Jackson’s place.”

We’re at the same McDonald’s we met at last time. Mendez eats a breakfast sandwich while I sip my coffee. I’m in a peculiar mood this morning. Wyatt and I had meetings all afternoon yesterday, so we couldn’t linger at the restaurant.

In any case, Wyatt’s right. We work with Piper. We need to give her plenty of space. The last thing I want her to think is that our investment in her restaurant is dependent on whether she sleeps with us.

“This is great.” Mendez stares at the list of names. “What about
Emerson’s
? And
The Pear Tree?
”

“I don’t know.” I take a deep breath. For the first time, I want out. I need to keep a low profile in Hell’s Kitchen; I can’t afford to snoop around for Mendez. At any time, Michael O’Connor might figure out who I am, and if he’s connected to the Westies, shit will hit the fan.

My priorities have changed. I’ve promised to help Piper win
Can You Take The Heat?.
I’ve told her I’ll make her restaurant profitable. This is not the time for me to be distracted by Mendez’s dirty work. “I can’t sort it out. You’re on your own.”

He stops eating and looks up. “Why’s that, Lamb?” he asks, his voice hard.

I bristle at his tone. “I didn’t realize I needed to offer you an explanation.”

He notices the steel in my expression. “Suit yourself,” he shrugs. “You’re not obligated to help me. I can find someone else to help me track Cassidy.”

I freeze. Seamus Cassidy was the man who ordered the hit on my family. What’s he doing in New York? He’s supposed to be doing life in an Irish prison. “Cassidy is out of jail?”

Mendez smiles mockingly. “I thought you didn’t want to get involved. Didn’t you just tell me that?”

“Fuck you,” I growl. “You know things are different if Seamus Cassidy is back, and that’s exactly why you brought him up. Don’t think I don’t know how you operate, Mendez.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead he pushes the list back to me. “I’ll be in touch.”

In the shock of kissing Piper, I’d almost forgotten my father’s phone call, but the next morning, he’s the first person I think of. I dial Stone Bradley. “My father made contact yesterday,” I say bluntly as soon as he answers.

“Hello to you too, Mr. Lawless. Did he show up at work again?”

“No, he called me.”

“Hmm. Did you have a phone number for him?”

“No.” I run my hand through my hair in frustration. A week after I hired him, Bradley produced an address for my father, but I haven’t acted because I don’t know what to do. I want him gone, but this isn’t the movies. I can’t break his kneecaps because I don’t want to talk to him.

“The studio apartment in Brooklyn he’s staying at,” I think out loud. “Whose name is on the lease? Can we evict him?”

Bradley answers immediately. “I’m going to recommend against it.” He clears his throat. “Let me be honest. Your dad is a washed-up drunk. Your best option is to meet him and pay him off. If you go on the offensive, who knows what he might do?”

“No.” My tone brooks no opposition. “There will be no pay off. There will be no meeting. I will give my father nothing.”  

“The past still haunts you.” Bradley’s voice is sympathetic. “I can relate to the desire to forget your childhood.”

I rise to my feet. I’m done with this conversation, done with Bradley, done with being analyzed. “Get him evicted,” I snarl into the phone.

I should tell Bradley to put a tail on my father and have someone keep an eye on his movements. But I’m too angry, and I’m not thinking straight.