Free Playing with Piper (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing for Love Book 3) by Tara Crescent Page B

door, you can always hire a proper sous-chef and start taking some time off. And then, you can date whoever you want.”
    Wendy’s right.
    I can’t stop thinking about the look in Owen’s eyes last night when he asked me if I would do anything he said. I can still feel Wyatt’s palm over my wrist when he told me to pace myself.
    Then, like a bucket of cold water, my mother’s voice sounds in my head. Well-behaved Southern women do not have threesomes. Except she’d never say the word threesome , because even in her wildest dreams, I wouldn’t do something so self-indulgent and wicked.

16
    Coming together is a beginning. Keeping together is progress. Working together is success.
    Henry Ford
Piper:
    T he next month is hectic .
    Wednesday, after talking to Wendy and resolving to keep things between Owen, Wyatt, and myself professional, I go to Wyatt’s office and sign the contract. “Read the small print,” he says, leaning back in his chair and giving me a dry look. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”
    “I don’t make the same mistakes twice,” I reply, pouring over the contract carefully. “I make new ones.”
    He laughs. Once I’ve signed the documents, Owen joins us and the three of us look at restaurant signs. “Simple yet classy,” Wyatt decrees. “That’s going to be our brand.”
    We pick a design that fits our needs beautifully. The sign itself arrives on Friday. The word Piper’s is in italicized cream lettering on a dark grey background. It takes my breath away. It is gorgeous .
    I watch a worker on a ladder take down the old faded Aladdin’s Lamp sign, and put up the new one. I’m not embarrassed to admit there are tears in my eyes.
    The day after that, someone arrives to replace the cracked glass in the front window, and a woman with curly brown hair shows up with planters filled with flowers. My restaurant transforms in front of me, going from looking faded and tired to warm and inviting.  
    It’s difficult not to hug Wyatt and Owen, but I remind myself of my resolution.
    New menus are printed on thick cream paper, tucked inside dark brown leather binders. I can’t stop stroking them; I can’t believe this is actually happening. It is with a huge smile on my face that I feed the worn Aladdin’s Lamp menus into a shredder.
    There is a metaphor here. I hope I’m destroying my old life in favor of a brighter future.  
    On Sunday night, after we’ve closed for the evening, Owen shows up with a drop cloth, brushes, painter's tape and three gallons of charcoal grey paint. “We can’t afford painters,” he says with a grimace. He’s wearing faded khaki shorts and an old grey t-shirt. “So, we paint.”
    “Is Wyatt joining us?” I ask curiously. So far, whenever something needs to get done, the three of us have done it together. It feels strange that he isn’t here.
    Owen shakes his head. “Wyatt,” he says, “does not deal well with chaos. I don’t think he could cope with the mess we’re going to make.” He moves the tables together in one heap in the middle, away from the walls, then piles the chairs on top of them. “I lucked out and found some chairs in an auction. Good quality dark wood, and they were just seventy bucks each. They’ll arrive sometime during the week.”
    I do some math in my head. “Three thousand five hundred dollars,” I conclude.
    “Add another two grand for cushions,” Owen advises. “It’s still a steal.”
    He’s right, but I can’t stop worrying about money. I give the paint a dubious look. “Will the room become too dark with this grey?”
    “We’ll update the lighting as well.” He gives the cheap fluorescent lights a disgusted look. “Wyatt’s taking care of that. He knows a guy.”
    “Wyatt knows a guy,” I repeat. Every day they hand me multiple invoices so I can track our spending. It’s nerve-wracking to watch them spend thousands of dollars without blinking an eye.
    Owen gives me a reassuring look. “You have to