The Arrangement - A Reverse Harem Romance, page 3
The message was from Chase… and he’d included the others, too. The guys normally used the long-running group text between the four of us to let me know when they’d run out of something, or even to make dinner or recipe suggestions.
Hey! Just wanted to make sure
you weren’t too shell-shocked
after what happened today.
And that you’re cool with it.
Aww… it was kinda cute they were checking in on me! It wasn’t something they normally did. Then again, the guys had never sprung anything this big on me before. So…
It’s all good in the hood.
No harm, no foul.
I cringed a little at my own cheesiness, but I wanted to keep it lighthearted. I was never any good at texting, especially not as much as other people. I found it easy to misinterpret things and hard to convey mood. Besides, face to face was so much better.
A minute of silence went by, with nothing else. Was that really it? Was that all they had?
Amateurs.
As an afterthought, I hammered out another cute little message and hit the SEND button.
I guess I’m just a little offended
none of you asked me. ;)
I grinned at my own flirty cleverness. Maybe I could text. The little smiley face at the end made it sassy.
This time the little message-bubble started blinking immediately, indicating a response. A few seconds later, it came through:
Oh believe me, we wanted to.
We just didn’t want to shit
where we ate.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted. I went with the latter:
Alright, that’s a pretty good one.
I was still laughing when I re-read that first part again:
We.
It inferred that they actually discussed it. Had they really discussed it? At first I thought it was a joke, but suddenly I wasn’t so sure. As I was contemplating, another message came through:
Besides, the last thing we wanted to do
was scare you off. You’re pretty awesome,
Kayleen. We enjoy having you here.
I felt a warmth spreading over me, starting from somewhere deep in my belly. It was a good warmth. But also a warmth of excitement.
I know I’m awesome, but it’s always fun to hear.
You guys aren’t too bad yourselves.
It was lame, but it was the best I could do. What else can a girl say to being called awesome?
I watched the screen a little more, and nothing happened. After two minutes, I had to assume our little conversation was over. Shit, it was kind of a relief. I never knew when to end these things anyway.
But then, just as I was about to put the phone down:
We’re doing the interviews over the weekend.
We can pencil you in for the beginning
of next week, though.
The beginning of next wee—
Oh, so they wanted to flirt? I could flirt! I grabbed the phone immediately, my fingers flying:
Fuck that. Pencil me in before the others!
I chuckled. Then, as an afterthought:
I won’t be sent to the end of some
line of gold-digging skanks.
I set the phone down with a smug, satisfactory grin. For someone who sucked at texting, I was especially proud of the gold-digging skanks line.
I grabbed the remote, and was about to un-pause my unnecessarily dramatic, over-the-top reality show when the phone sounded off again:
Okay, done.
Friday night. Eight o’clock.
I noticed this last message was a little different. It was within the same conversation, only this one came from Burke.
That part sent a couple of butterflies fluttering through my stomach.
Yeah, right.
I clicked a few buttons and looked up the laughing emojee. God, I hated emojees. But I used it anyway:
::laughing::
Yeah, sure! See you there.
It was still fun, still flirty. Right? Only now, for some reason, my heart was beating a lot faster.
Hey — you were the one who teased them, Kayleen.
I guess I had. In retrospect I’d even started it. Now they’d gotten the best of me, teasing me right back. One-upping me on my own dumb flirty bullshit, which only—
We’re serious.
The message stopped me in my tracks. Two little words. Two tiny words with all the impact of a runaway freight train.
I went to type again, then stopped. Hesitated. Sat there for another minute, with the phone in my lap. Then, after another half-minute of silence, another message appeared:
Are you?
Serious? Serious? Of course I wasn’t serious! I was just playing along, doing the text-message thing. Flirting and laughing and having some sexy little fun, only maybe the guys had taken me a little more seriously than I was taking myself.
Or maybe…
Or maybe they were only bluffing. Having some fun with me.
Do you call them out on it?
I could. That part was easy, of course. But if it was an obvious bluff, why was my stomach all twisted in knots? And where the hell did this lump in my throat suddenly come from?
Weasel out backwards? Or call their hand?
For once, I didn’t know what to do.
They are bluffing… right?
In a snap decision I grabbed the phone. My fingers moved faster than my brain could even think.
Fine. Friday night, Eight o’clock.
And there had better be wine.
The phone suddenly seemed foreign to me. Like it wasn’t mine. Like it had a life of its own, and had typed the message all by itself.
It was Nathan who wrote back this time. Apparently he was monitoring the conversation also:
LOL, you already know what
we have here. You buy our wine.
That part made me smile. He had somewhat of a point. I hammered out one final message, then tossed the phone to the other side of the couch:
I’m talking about good wine.
Seven
KAYLEEN
The whole week was a big fat blur.
I made rent thank God, just in time for Jerry to come knocking at my door. He seemed overly surprised when I handed him all eight-hundred dollars. Like I’d performed some strange fucking magic trick, like pulling a hat out of a rabbit’s asshole.
Each day, I occupied myself with cooking and prepping and driving from client to client. More and more I realized I was just spinning my wheels. Not making nearly enough for my enterprise to be considered a successful business model.
But each night…
Each night I lay in bed thinking about Friday.
For the first half of the week, I convinced myself that they hadn’t been serious. That I would show up there on Friday night, and they wouldn’t even be expecting me. It would be awkward as hell. I’d look like a total, desperate asshole. Even worse, they might feel obligated to invite me in. One or more of them would be writing. In the zone…
By Wednesday night I was convinced I wasn’t going. And that’s when the text came through:
A photograph of a single bottle of red wine.
Chase sent it, which made me feel a little better. It was good wine, actually. A nice Merlot, and not from the $10 rack as I might’ve expected.
Not to begin another back-and-forth text-message saga, I replied with a single text of my own:
Better be more than one bottle of that.
By Thursday I was freaking out. I wasn’t even sure why. I hadn’t committed to anything, and the whole thing could still be a put-on. An excuse to hang out. Maybe drink a little wine.
Besides, I’d known these guys for months now. It’s not like they were strangers. Yet for some reason I was totally nervous, as if I were going out blind, on a first date.
Friday came, and I had to talk myself down off a ledge. I eventually convinced myself that the whole thing was nothing more than a casual, post-work meet-up with clients. The kind of thing I sometimes did to keep up good relations.
Only in this case I was going to meet three gorgeous young guys in their sprawling, beautifully-decorated villa. On a Friday night. To drink wine.
Oh yeah, and to talk about potentially becoming their shared girlfriend.
I laughed on the way up the driveway, hoping they weren’t watching me through the in-house camera system. I would’ve looked pretty damned maniacal. Maybe they’d even lock the doors and use the intercom to tell me to fuck off.
If only you’d be so lucky.
No, I’d got myself into this and apparently there was no way I was getting out. Not without major embarrassment. So I decided to do the one thing I was always best at: taking things head-on.
If they wanted to interview me, I’d embrace it.
I reached the front door, wondering if I should ring the bell or just use my key. Both options seemed awkward. Traditionally I’d always just let myself in, but right now I wasn’t working for them. And it was a Friday night, not a Monday.
“Kayleen!” The voice that came through the digital intercom was bright and cheerful. I recognized it as Nathan’s. “Come on in!”
He buzzed me in, and I made my way through the flagstone foyer. White stucco walls blended smoothly into the sweeping archways, warmly lit by wrought iron sconces. Green plants stood sentinel, strategically placed for color and effect, while more vines hung from the planters, giving the inside of the house an outdoor feel.
Damn, I’d been here dozens of times, but I never actually realized how beautiful everything was.
“Come on in, we’re in the kitchen!’
I knew where that was, of course. My cute little skirt flowed about my knees, my shoes clacking against the tile with every step. It occurred to me I’d never worn shoes in here before. It had always been my work flats.
All three of them were in the kitchen, already sharing a bottle of wine. Chase and Nathan were seated, but stood to greet me. Burke was already standing, leaning casually against one of the poured cement countertops.
“You got one of those for me?”
Chase slid me a glass, while Nathan poured. It was a damned big glass, and for that I was grateful.
“Here,” I said, dropping a small package onto the table. “I brought cheese.”
Burke inched forward, looking suddenly interested. I noticed he was drinking beer from the bottle, and not wine.
“I picked up a nice Brie, and a semi-hard Garrotxa.”
Nathan squinted. “A semi-hard what?”
“Nevermind,” I chuckled. “Just try it.”
We chowed down a little, and I came to realize I was hungrier than I thought. Probably something to do with not having much of an appetite over the last few days.
“This is good,” mouthed Burke. He was already on his third smear of Brie.
“Goes better with the wine,” I teased.
“Maybe,” he shot back, raising his bottle. “But everything goes just fine with beer.”
We talked shop first, about what they’d eaten this week and how much they liked it. Which things I should make for them again. Which dishes I should banish to the nether-realms of yuckiness, never to be tasted again.
I drank the first glass of wine fairly quickly, and went to pour myself a second. But Chase beat me to it.
“So…” I said, feeling abruptly warm and confident. “Tell me why I should accept your offer?”
Chase and Nathan glanced at each other. Burke let out a sharp laugh.
“Offer? We haven’t offered you anything.”
“Not yet,” I said. “But I already qualify. I’m exactly what you’re looking for, aren’t I?”
They stared at me some more, in semi-stunned silence. An opportunity presented itself. I decide to roll with it.
“Look, I’m fun, funny, awesome as hell. Totally the life of any party. Not to mention, breathtakingly beautiful.”
I spun around theatrically, causing my skirt to flare up a little. I grabbed the counter to stop myself and giggled.
“I’m sexy. Sensual. ZERO problems with my libido,” I winked. “And hell if I don’t enjoy being… what’d you guys call it? Pampered and spoiled?”
The two men nearest me were pretty much spellbound. Burke however, twisted the cap off another beer.
“Dammit, I like this girl,” he murmured.
“Best of all you already know me,” I went on. “I’m a kickass fucking girlfriend as well as a wicked cook.” I paused for a moment to sip my wine. “No cleaning, though. Maybe I’ll be your girlfriend, but not your maid.”
My rant was coming to a close. It had been fueled by nervousness, by impulse, and a little bit by the goddess of Merlot. It wasn’t the first time I’d gone off like this, though. It probably wouldn’t be the last.
“There,” I said finally. “The interview’s over. On your end, anyway. The only question remaining is are you three what I really want?”
I sipped again, watching their reactions over the rim of my glass. My pulse was racing, and not just from the wine.
“And I suppose,” I said, shifting my hips, “that would all depend on your terms…”
Eight
BURKE
She was a firecracker, I’d give her that. As ballsy as she was blonde and beautiful.
Either that, or she was full of shit. All talk no action.
I was determined to find out.
“So what can you offer me?” Kayleen asked, halfway through her second glass of wine. It was fun, watching her evolve. Seeing her grow bolder and more comfortable as the evening progressed. Part of it was the wine. The other part, well… I wasn’t so sure what it was.
“In so far as?”
She traced her finger lightly around the rim of her glass. It was a very feminine movement. Intentionally sensual.
“Well if I’m your girlfriend,” she said, putting a provocative emphasis on the last word, “exactly what should I expect?”
“All the things in the ad,” said Chase. “Fun, excitement, romance…”
“Sex,” I interjected bluntly, studying her reaction.
If she was thrown by the boldness of my statement, it sure didn’t show. I watched as Kayleen broke off a tiny square of cheese and slipped it into her mouth. Even that little act seemed overtly erotic.
“And I’d live here?”
Nathan nodded. “Full time. The bedroom at the end of the hall would be all yours.”
“All mine, huh?”
“Well, sure,” I said. “To share with whomever you wanted. Whenever you wanted.”
Beneath her thick black lashes, I saw her blue eyes glimmer. She looked so different now. So unlike the friendly, bubbly chef that prepared our food every Monday.
No, now she looked like a woman. She looked like one before of course, but now she had sex appeal. Her body, her curves… those cascading ringlets of lush blonde hair. The way she shifted from one hip to another. Even the way she tapped her long, painted fingernail on the side of her glass…
“Let me see the terms, then.”
We looked at each other, Chase and I. We were both surprised.
“You guys drew up some kind of agreement, right?”
I snickered. “How’d you know?”
“Oh, it’s not all that hard to figure out,” said Kayleen. “A couple of wordsmiths like you? You’d do something like that for sure.” She smirked and jerked her head at Chase. “Especially him. He’s the organizer. The note-taker. The—”
“Alright, alright,” Chase grinned. He pulled out his phone and punched something up on his screen, then passed it over to Kayleen.
I cracked another beer while she read, and even slid one Nathan’s way at his request. In the meantime, Kayleen’s eyes were locked on the glowing screen. Her face remained calm and impassive, like none of this was any big deal. Like she was reading a recipe, instead of scanning the terms of a very unorthodox, four-way relationship agreement.
“This isn’t bad,” she said at last. “It’s a start, anyway.”
“A start?”
“Well yeah. Some of this needs to be changed. The ‘stipend’ part, for one.” She shook her head firmly. “There’s no way I’m taking money from anyone for being their girlfriend.”
Nathan glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. I had to admit I was impressed.
“It’s not like that,” Chase said quickly. “It’s just that since you’ll be here a lot, and you’ll be entertained by us so often, there might not be any room for work or income.”
“Bullshit,” said Kayleen. “There’s always room for work and income.”
I found myself giving our personal chef a much deeper look. Despite my initial misgivings, I was liking her more and more.
“Think about it,” said Nathan. “Chase’s off day is Monday, mine’s Tuesday, Burke’s is Wednesday. On each of those days, we’re gonna want to do something fun with you. We’ll want to take you out. Wine and dine you.”
“Sounds good to me,” smiled Kayleen.
“But if—”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t work, though,” Kayleen continued. “I’m not going to just give up on my clients.” She paused for a moment. “I could definitely trim the fat, I guess. Cut out a few of the less lucrative or more time-consuming jobs. Especially if I wouldn’t have the burden of paying rent.”
The other guys looked suddenly thoughtful. It wasn’t something we’d been totally set on, and she was making all good points.
“Besides, you’re doing this whole thing to avoid distractions, right? So when you think about it, do you really want me around the house twenty-four seven? Walking around in a towel? Prancing up and down the hallways in my underwear?” She smirked and shrugged. “If I’m being honest, that’s kinda of my thing.”
