Betting on Bailey

Not here. Daniel’s table is large enough to seat six people. The rich, I’m rapidly discovering, live very differently from the rest of us.

“Can I get you a drink, Bailey?” he asks me. “Vodka, wine, beer, something else?”

As much as I’d like to do a shot of vodka to ease my nerves, I think I should stay relatively sober. “Beer, please.”

He opens a bottle and pours the beverage into a glass for me, grabbing one for himself at the same time. At the stove, Sebastian takes a drink from his own beer while adding a bunch of spinach to the wok, moving the leaves around to wilt them. His movements are sure and unhurried, and watching him, my insides clench with need. Is this the way he’d touch me? Calmly, surely, as if he has all the time in the world to explore my body?

I’m on edge, but I force myself to relax and make conversation. “How long have you two played in the league?” I ask them curiously.

“I’ve just been playing for three months,” Daniel replies. “Sebastian talked me into it.”

“I needed sane company,” Sebastian explains. “I played for Clark’s team last year. We lost in the finals of the tournament, and Clark does not know how to lose with grace. He was so much of a dick that half the team swore they’d never come back. So I recruited Juliette and Daniel to keep me company.”

“And to keep you from strangling Clark,” Daniel jokes.

“There is that,” Sebastian agrees with a grin.

“You guys must have lost to Trevor’s team,” I realize. “Trevor won last year. He couldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Probably.” Sebastian shrugs. “It’s just a game. People take this shit far too seriously.” He puts two plates in front of us, heaped with brown rice and a colorful mixture of chicken and vegetables. Steam rises in spirals from the dish, and it smells wonderful. “Dig in,” he says, and I attack my food like I’ve never eaten before.

The stir-fry is a revelation. A perfect medley of sweet and spicy and salty flavors dance on my tongue, and each vegetable is cooked exactly right. “God, this is good,” I moan. “Why isn’t this on your menu?”

Sebastian laughs. “It’s too simple,” he says. “I can’t make any money on it.”

For a few moments, the only sound in the kitchen is the noise of our forks scraping at our plates. Then something strikes me. “Hang on, you said you bet Clark that I’d win in July. Isn’t that when the tournament is played? What happens if we don’t qualify?”

“I presume that the bet becomes a non-issue in that case,” Daniel says. “But,” he adds confidently, “if you allow us to coach you, that won’t happen. We’ll qualify.”

Coach me. Again, he’s said it with just a little bit more emphasis than required. There’s heat in his eyes and a trace of roughness in his voice.

Sebastian doesn’t say anything, but he’s sitting in front of me, and I can see his eyes linger on my body. There’s appreciation in his gaze, one that makes me very glad I’d worn my prettiest, laciest pink underwear beneath my clothes.

I can hear the desire in Daniel’s tone and I can see the heat in Sebastian’s eyes. Suddenly, all the doubts that have plagued me vanish. It was the same way when I went to Russia. The entire flight, I thought I was mad for going so far away, but the moment the wheels of the airplane touched down in Vladivostok, I’d been ready.

I’m ready now, ready to be adventurous. I can’t wait to finish my meal and see what happens next.

15

In 19th century Finland, a girl of marriageable age would wear an empty sheath in a belt around her waist. Interested men would put a sword in her sheath. If she returned the blade, she wasn’t interested in the would-be suitor, but keeping the blade meant she agreed to marry him.

from Bailey’s Journal of Interesting Facts from around the World

Bailey:

“You look nervous.” Sebastian’s blue eyes pierce into me.

Dinner’s done and cleared away. There’s no food to hide behind, and my nerves have made an encore appearance.

I remember Gabby’s advice to be honest with them about my sexual inexperience. After all, based on the fact that I’m here, Daniel and Sebastian might think that I’ve done a lot more exploration in bed than I actually have. Yet it’s hard to broach the conversation, and I find myself tongue-tied and anxious.