Twin Tease_An MFM Menage Billionaire Step Romance Read online

  “Hey, where are they going?” she pouts.

  She kicks her ankles under the surface of the water, flexing those long, tawny thighs. I know it makes me petty and small, but I can’t help but notice this is the first time a boy—any boy—has elected to spend their attention on me over her.

  “Some meeting,” I explain nonchalantly. “Some investor or something like that.”

  “Oh, right,” she nods as she squints at them from across the pool, watching them walk away. “Their computer program or whatever. That thing.”

  “That’s the thing,” I confirm. It’s an app, not a computer program, but I don’t think she’s really interested in the finer distinctions at this point.

  She bites hard on her lower lip as they leave the patio, and I watch emotions flicker over her face. Disappointment, hunger, then resolution.

  “What a waste of time,” she finally sighs, pushing herself up to standing and stalking off to the table where her cell phone lies.

  Confused, I climb the ladder to leave the pool and walk over to her to grab a towel.

  “What was a waste of time?” I ask, watching her drying her long limbs and then tying a flowered skirt over her hips, low enough to show off that blue gem that dangles from her belly button.

  “I just don’t know why they would bother. Come on,” she finally huffs.

  Hurt, I take my hat and jam it back on my head so she can’t see my eyes. “Bother… what? What are you even talking about?”

  She scoffs, rolling her eyes. With a dismissive gesture, she wipes her fingers up and down in the air, apparently signifying my body from head to toe.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Chelsea,” she starts imperiously, “you’re cute as a button, right? But it’s not like they can have you, you know what I mean? It’s not like you could really make it happen.”

  I cross my arms defensively over my bare belly, vividly aware of the abnormally hot water trickling out of my bikini bottoms and down between my thighs.

  “What are you talking about? Make what happen?”

  She picks up her phone and scowls at the face of it, jabbing it with her thumb. “Boys are just so dumb.”

  “They’re not dumb, actually,” I sniff. “They’re are about to be millionaires, Yoyo. Off that app they designed themselves.”

  “Yeah, but my point is that you can never get a piece of that, Chelsea,” she drawls. “Just like you can never get a piece of them.”

  “Well, I don’t know…”

  The words die on my tongue. Wasn’t she just trying to convince me I wanted them? How did she change her tune so fast?

  “Ew!” she exclaims, recoiling dramatically. “Those are your brothers. That’s nasty.”

  I stand there helplessly, trying to convince myself that she’s just jealous and disappointed that she threw herself at Jack in he didn’t bother to catch her. That’s probably all it is.

  “They’re not really my brothers,” I remind her, but I don’t even know if she hears me. “Stepbrothers. I practically just met them, and you were the one who wanted to know if I thought they were hot, remember?”

  She points at me, narrowing her eyes accusingly. “Yeah, but you were the one who admitted that they are!”

  I open my mouth and then close it, because I don’t have anything to say. She’s got a point. But I have a point too! And it’s really hard to argue with her right now anyway, when my thighs are trembling and my pussy feels like it’s on fire.

  She looks around, huffing and snarling, before finally calming down. “They totally are, but whatever,” she admits. “Anyway, I gotta get going.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I mumble, gathering my accessories off the table and following her through the blindingly dark house. She offers me a little wave goodbye before getting into her Hyundai, and I stand there numbly in the dark house, feeling weirdly alone.

  Chapter 2

  Chelsea

  Three years later

  Customers keep streaming into the coffee shop right up until closing time, keeping me busier than I want. Janet called off again and I’m stuck doing everything by myself: barista, cashier, and all the cleaning. You would think since my boyfriend owns the place that I would be some kind of big shot, but apparently I’m the lowest rung on the ladder by a mile.

  Somehow I manage to get a five-minute pause right before nine p.m. and I get excited that maybe I can just go ahead and lock the front door. As I am walking up to it, Denise bursts through, her eyes wide with panic.

  “Am I too late?” she blurts out. “Are you all closed up?”

  I force myself to smile through gritted teeth. “Of course not, Denise,” I smile encouragingly. “You just made it. What can I get for you?”

  “Oh thank you!” She sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. “I just barely got Andrew out of daycare in time. Working late is such a hassle, you know? They think it makes you more productive, but it really doesn’t!”

  “I can only imagine,” I smile as I position myself back behind the counter. “So are you grabbing something for the road? Or trying to get a jump on the morning?”

  She leans forward, resting her palms on the counter as she squints at the menu over my head. Of course, the menu is always the same, but it is some kind of ritual with these folks. They like to look at it for as long as possible.

  “Ummmmmmmmmmmm,” she says, mashing her lips from side to side.

  She does look tired, I notice. I can hardly imagine what it is like to be a full-time executive and a full-time mother, trying to juggle childcare and all the responsibilities of keeping a house and career together. Like a lot of women, Denise doesn’t have a husband or boyfriend that I have ever been aware of. She just manages it somehow all by herself. She must be exhausted.

  “Okay… How about the ginger banana smoothie for now? And a cold brew for the morning? Will that keep in my fridge?”

  I slide over to the smoothie station and start making her drink. If I don’t make much of a mess, I won’t have to break the machine down again or anything.

  “Yeah, you should be fine. I won’t put any ice in the cold brew for you. Just pop a few ice cubes in there in the morning and you will be on your way, okay?”

  “Fantastic, you’re a lifesaver.” She groans gratefully, fishing in her giant handbag for her credit card. “I wish there were a way to make this just a little bit easier, you know? Like, if one puzzle piece was just a little bit closer to the other puzzle pieces, everything would just be a little bit easier.”

  I shake my head, confused but trying to appear nonjudgmental. She chuckles self-deprecatingly.

  “Okay, I probably sound like a crazy person,” she smiles as she rubs her forehead with her knuckles. “I just mean that if the office was closer to the daycare, or if my condo was closer to the office, or if the daycare was closer to the condo… You know what I mean?”

  I visualize a triangle as I’m blending ginger and banana with some orange juice and crushed ice. The orange shape quivers in the imaginary space, trying to stretch in all directions at once until it shatters into a billion bright sparks.

  “And which one is close to the coffee shop?” I ask, just making conversation.

  “Oh, actually, you’re right in the middle,” she answers brightly. “You’re probably the only convenient thing about my life, Chelsea.”

  “If only we did childcare!” I smile as I dump some cold brew into another cup and fit them both in a environmentally friendly, recycled board carrier.

  Her eyes widen dramatically. “Oh my God, that would be amazing!” she sighs as she snatches the smoothie away and immediately pops a wax paper straw into it and begins sucking it down. “I mean, seriously amazing. That would cut out…”

  She stares over my head again, mentally calculating as her cheeks are caved in by the smoothie.

  “You would save me twenty hours a week!”

  I gasp in surprise. Is that even possible? How does her life even work?

  She takes a few more seconds t
o fantasize, then finally her shoulders slump in defeat.

  “Well, dare to dream!” she quips. “Thanks again for hooking me up. See you soon!”

  As she leaves, those numbers keep nagging at me. Twenty hours a week? I guess that means she spends about an hour a day on one of those parts of her commute. I guess a half hour back and forth from daycare doesn’t really seem unreasonable. It’s not until you add it all up that the magnitude of her responsibility falls into place.

  Finally I get everything cleaned up, leaving the rubber mats in the kitchen sink to dry after hosing them down. Closing down is just the worst, but if I don’t do it well then the morning crew is going to suffer. That’s not fair to them. Even if I am the boss’s girlfriend, I can’t just inconvenience everyone else so that I can feel special.

  The night air is warm and sultry, but with a little bit of a cool breeze coming off the lake as I walk home. I like the way the tree-lined streets of Evanston change at nighttime, becoming almost spooky with the historic mansions and uneven, ancient sidewalks.

  As I come up closer to our two-flat, I notice the friendly glow of the front window. The living room light is on. Boy, I hope I didn’t do that. It might be safer, but it’s just such a waste.

  As I slide my key in the door I could feel that it is loose and just turn the handle, surprised to find Ronnie sitting in the middle of the living room couch with his feet up on the coffee table, his ankles crossed. With his eyes still glued to the baseball game, he raises his Heineken in the air in my direction.

  “Welcome home,” he sighs, still not actually glancing in my direction with his actual eyeballs. Baseball has his complete attention.

  I command myself to count silently to ten before I say anything. My jaw already hurts from grinding my teeth together.

  “You’re here,” I finally say. “You said you couldn’t make it in to the shop.”

  He follows some play on the television, leaning forward on the sofa for a few seconds before answering.

  “Um, yeah. Well, I got home a little earlier.”

  Dropping my keys in the bowl by the front door, I let my heavy bag slide from my shoulder.

  “So I just closed the coffee shop by myself,” I announce, though he really should know that.

  “Yeah, thanks, babe,” he answers vaguely.

  I have book called Getting Along. In it, the author suggests that couples really should not bicker about the small stuff. Also, most stuff is, in fact, small stuff. The goal, the author says, is to get along.

  Bickering is not getting along.

  Closing up the coffee shop by myself is not a big thing. It’s not worth fighting about. I need to let it go.

  I count to ten, then start over and count to thirty, then start over and count to ten again. That’s fifty altogether.

  Maybe I need a beer.

  Shuffling to the kitchen, I stretch my shoulders to release some of the tension from my neck. He probably didn’t know Janet called in sick. He probably didn’t know that I had to do everything by myself.

  Also, he didn’t ask, right? He didn’t tell me that he had free time to watch a baseball game?

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

  Okay. I’m just going to let it go. Life is too short.

  With a nice cold beer swishing around between my cheeks, maybe I do feel little better. I take another stab at the living room, smiling like a really good sport.

  “So, hey…” I start as I settle in on the sofa next to him. “I had an idea. Want to hear it?”

  He jams his hand under my bottom like he always does, so he can cup my ass cheek when I sit next to him. This used to be really cute. At this moment, it’s making me want to start counting again.

  “Want to hear it?” I ask again, prodding.

  He squints at the screen, clearly enchanted by whatever it is the White Sox are doing.

  “Yeah, babe, tell me all about it.”

  “So… You know that space next door? The empty space?”

  “Oof!” he exclaims, dodging an imaginary line drive.

  “The space next door!" I repeat, much louder. “Remember it?”

  Finally the game cuts to a commercial and Ronnie turns toward me, smiling in that forced polite way that he has, where it doesn’t really look like he is smiling at all.

  “The old jewelry store?”

  “That’s the one!” I nod quickly, knowing that I have about a minute and a half before I lose his attention again. “Well, I was thinking, what if we expanded?”

  “We don’t really have enough business to expand,” he scowls. “People expand when they have too much business, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, but what if,” I say, gently sliding in front of him so that I am between him and the TV, “it’s not really an expansion? So much as an addition? Like maybe an additional service?”

  He glances down, noticing that I’m practically sitting on his lap. For just a flicker, I actually do have his attention.

  “Okay, what kind of service?”

  “Maybe… A daycare center? Maybe even a small school like a Montessori? I think a lot of our customers would find a lot of convenience in this. How many of our regulars are single moms?”

  He starts to roll his eyes, then stops himself just in time. Still, that phony smile looks like it’s going to crack right off.

  “Listen, Chelsea. I know that you have this thing for early education…”

  “A thing?” I repeat, slightly incredulous. “I have a degree, Ronnie. And a certification.”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, and I love that about you. And you probably don’t want to really be a barista for the rest of your life, right? Is that where this is coming from?”

  One. Two. Three.

  “Really, it’s coming from Denise,” I answer as calmly as I can. “Did you know it takes her an extra twenty hours a week to navigate all her commutes with her kid? Isn’t that insane?”

  “Well maybe she should have thought of that before she had that kid,” he shrugs, sucking his teeth. “How is that my problem?”

  Four. Five. Six.

  “It doesn’t have to be your problem,” I answer brightly. “It can be your… Our opportunity, you know? It’s an opportunity, Ronnie. We could make something really cool using both of our skills.”

  I don’t even have to hear the TV change. I know instantly that the game is back on when his focus snaps six feet behind my head.

  “Yeah, okay… I’ll think about it,” he murmurs distractedly.

  “Sure, I’ll just get you another beer,” I say as I slide off his lap and get up from the couch.

  “Thanks, Chels,” he answers as I leave the room, heading for the bedroom and closing the door.

  Full disclosure: I never intended to get him another beer. But I don’t think he heard me anyway.

  After kicking off my shoes and peeling this coffee-scented polo shirt off my body, I slide into bed, positioning myself as far on my side as possible without actually falling off. Eventually I’ll fall asleep, and tomorrow I’ll do it all over again.

  Chapter 3

  Chance

  The driver rolls the car right up to the small jet right after we have landed. One of the nice things about using private airfields is easy access to the car. It’s not O’Hare. I have to get Starbucks on the way. But it is pretty damn convenient.

  The pilot raises his hand to me as I deplane, and the single flight attendant turns away like she doesn’t see me. It’s a bummer, but I explained to her that Maddie has to come first. I can’t really expect her to give Jack and me the kind of attention that we require if we aren’t going to give her an equivalent amount of effort, right? But unfortunately, Lorraine the flight attendant thought our frequent junkets between Lake Geneva and Detroit would be something other than they are going to be.

  Great. Now I have to find a new flight attendant too. But she pulls herself up straight and I can see the professionalism hazing her eyes, taking her over. Li
ke a robot, she goes from flirty almost-girlfriend to professional air host in just a few seconds. Impressive.

  The driver seems to catch a whiff of lady drama over my shoulder as I climb into the back seat.

  “Everything all right, Chance?” he asks with just a hint of smirk in his voice.

  Rather than answer, I just concentrate on my cell phone. Now that we are on the ground, I’ve got a couple dozen text messages rolling in, plus news and stock alerts.

  Still, I am looking forward to getting home. Maddie is a remarkable beauty. Nearly six feet tall with the strength and agility of a volleyball player. She’s definitely been game for whatever Jack and I could ask of her. And she has that detached coolness, a sort of robotic ice in her veins that will ensure she doesn’t get too attached.

  That plus a generous salary as our live-in nanny makes this whole situation just perfect. Her small request to keep our trio exclusive seems like a small price to pay. At least for the time being, until we wear her out or whatever. It’s just a very adult relationship, with everybody getting exactly what they want.

  The rolling hills around Lake Geneva are beautiful, and more importantly, private. There are a lot of tech guys hiding out in log cabins around here, and you would never know it. Lots of older people in quaint retirement developments on the shores, too. That means we have decent shopping when we need something. And of course Chicago and Detroit are only an hour away in the jet. So it might seem a little under the radar, but it’s perfect for us.

  Somehow after we sold our first app, we both managed to find ourselves with pregnant girlfriends. Just another way that our lives are totally in sync, I guess. And by some miraculous coincidence, we both found ourselves trying to manage the single dad gig. Right away, we knew that the solution was obvious. We needed a place where Ned and Matthew, who are going on two years old now, would be able to grow up as close as brothers. And we would be able to get our work done, carve out a life on our own terms.