Betting on Bailey

“Devious,” she quips. “This is all very ‘Art of War’ material. No wonder you two are so good at it.”

“Sun Tzu has nothing on us,” I agree. “Now, get back in there and kick ass, Bailey.”

She gives us a mocking bow that reveals a breath-taking amount of cleavage. My dick stirs instantly and I can tell she knows the effect she’s having on me, because when she straightens, her eyes are locked on my crotch. “Brat,” I accuse her. “Go play.”

She wins in pretty convincing fashion, and she’s delighted by it. It’s the first time she’s won every single game in a match. Once we are done toasting to her success over a shot of vodka, we wait out the rest of the games. Clark is melting down as usual because he’s playing a woman, and Juliette’s standing off to one side, typing something into a phone. She’s been acting weird, Juliette, but I’m too involved in my own life to get fussed about it.

“You staying over tonight?” Daniel asks her.

“Only if you let me grade.” She gestures to her laptop bag, bulging at the seams. “I have to get some of this stuff done tonight, and you two have a way of distracting me from work.”

“We’ll keep our hands off you,” I promise solemnly.

She rolls her eyes. “That,” she says, her lips curling upwards into a smile that she tries to hide, “is a lie.”

“Nope,” I laugh. “I promise to keep my hands off you, but I make no guarantees about you keeping your hands off me.”

“Vain much?” She looks around and steps closer to us. “It’s true, I can’t keep my hands off you.” Her face flushes. “I’m becoming some kind of nympho.”

“You are a tiger, Bailey.” Daniel starts to touch her before he remembers he’s in a public place and checks himself. “Always responsive, always ready.”

“Always wet,” I add, teasing her. “It’s very flattering.”

She goes beet-red, then she laughs good-naturedly. “I blame you two for that. I used to be a normal person before we met.”

She’s joking. As mushy as it sounds, we are all better people around each other. Daniel works less, and seems to be happier for it. I don’t lose my temper quite as readily. Bailey accepts she’s a beautiful woman.

Because there’s three of us, two can always entertain each other if the third is working, and no one’s left resentful. I’m a chef - working long hours is always going to be part of my life. More than that, I work evenings and weekends, and that’s always made dating difficult. It’s an odd thing to voluntarily be in a ménage, but strangely, it’s working better than any relationship has ever worked in my life.

* * *

“You hungry, Bailey?” I ask her, when we get to Daniel’s place. We shared a plate of appetizers at the Maxwell Club, but she probably forgot to eat all day, immersed in her work. We are stretched out on the couch, Bailey sitting between the two of us. If only she didn’t need to correct papers…

“I’m starving,” she admits, “but don’t get up. You’ve been in the kitchen all day. I can fix myself something. Daniel usually has ingredients for a stir-fry or something.” She rises to her feet. “Come on, billionaire boy. You can help me.”

“Billionaire boy?” Daniel snorts. “Geez, that’s a flattering nickname.”

I rise to my feet as well. “This I have to see,” I announce. “Daniel Hartman cooking. Have you ever turned on a stove burner by yourself?”

He looks embarrassed as he leads the way to the kitchen. “Probably,” he says defensively, “though I can’t remember when.”

“You’re joking, right?” Bailey eyes Daniel with open astonishment. “You are an adult. How do you manage?”

“Restaurants,” he admits sheepishly. I’m getting quite a kick out of watching Daniel squirm. It happens so rarely. “Take out. And Sebastian cooks whenever he’s here. You know. Billionaire stuff.”

“We are fixing this now,” she announces. “Don’t worry, Daniel. I’ll teach you.”