Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  I preferred Killian in every way.

  Still, I couldn’t stop staring at the newcomer. He was the kind of beautiful that demanded attention.

  “Ezra,” Killian greeted. “I thought you were spending the night at Bianca?”

  Not to be confused with spending the night with Bianca.

  Ezra Baptiste- that’s who this was. Lilou’s owner. Killian’s boss. Restaurateur, businessman, model.

  Okay, I made the model thing up.

  “I had to get out of there before I did something impetuous,” Ezra explained. “That little shit is begging to be fired.”

  Killian murmured his agreement, glancing at me, gauging my reaction. “Do you want a plate?” he asked Ezra, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought it was his attempt to get rid of his boss.

  “Yeah, later.” Ezra turned to the table, his smile transforming his entire face from handsome, to devastatingly so. I heard Molly’s audible intake of breath and felt the urge to pat my forehead with the clean side of my napkin. “What’s brought you out of the kitchen? I hope there’s not a problem?”

  Because only a problem would pull Killian from his kingdom?

  “No,” Killian denied immediately. “Well, not in the traditional sense.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Before I could ask, Killian introduced me to one of the most important people in the restaurant industry. “This is our new neighbor, Ezra. Vera Delane meet Ezra Baptiste."

  I stuck my trembling hand in Ezra’s and gripped firmly, attempting professionalism. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” he smiled. “Which property is yours?”

  Embarrassment swept over me from head to toe. “The truck,” I replied weakly. “Foodie.”

  Ezra’s expression lit with recognition. “Ah, now I see. You’re the chef my chef can’t stop talking about.”

  For the second time tonight I wondered if coming here was a big mistake. “Oh, no. I’m definitely not that chef. I just run a food truck.”

  Ezra’s smile widened. “I’ve heard.”

  I forced myself to hold his gaze when all I wanted to do was stare at my shoes. “This is my friend Molly,” I told him, finally diverting his gaze elsewhere. “She’s an artist.”

  Ezra’s eyes lit up when he took her in. “Really? An artist of what variety?”

  If I would have been standing next to her, she would have pinched me. “Graphic designer by trade,” she explained taking his hand when he offered it to her.

  He seemed disappointed in her answer. I was too. But I couldn’t force her to acknowledge her talent.

  Leaning toward her, Ezra asked her opinion on something design oriented. She answered, and he immediately pulled out his phone. Just like that, they were talking shop.

  Ezra walked around Killian so he could show Molly his screen and she started pointing at it, explaining nervously.

  Knowing Killian would have to get back to the kitchen soon, I stood up and turned to face him again. He still towered over me, even though I’d worn my slutty heels tonight. The red stilettos gave me four inches of height but I still only reached the middle of his beard. “Thank you for dinner. You didn’t have to—”

  He shrugged, cutting me off. “I figured you should have the most information at your disposal.”

  “I didn’t come here to spy on you.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Then why did you come?”

  “I needed to see what the fuss was about.”

  “And?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that needs his ego coddled?”

  He leaned in, brushing his shoulder against mine. “Every guy is that guy. Don’t single me out.”

  I tried not to smile. Really. I gave it my best effort. “Honestly?”

  He pulled back, holding my gaze and nodding. “Why do you think women always hold the power?”

  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he looked nervous. His eyes moved over me tentatively, and his hands were tucked into his pockets.

  “Honestly, I think everything needs a little more salt.”

  Shock hit his entire body at once, rocking him back on his heels. He’d expected me to fawn over him, to fall to my knees and praise him for being a god in the kitchen.

  But I was done kissing ass to great chefs who didn’t need to be told they were great.

  Before Killian could respond, Molly’s sharp voice captured my attention. “I suppose it’s up to you,” she snapped at Ezra. “It’s your website. Your logo. You should do what you want to do.”

  “Even if it looks like shit?” Ezra snarled.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  The two of them glowered at each other, and it was so shocking that I couldn’t even figure out a way to rescue the conversation. Molly didn’t snap at people. Molly didn’t glower at them. Molly was sweet and shy and always professional.

  Always.

  Ezra stepped back, disentangling himself from conflict. “I’ll let you get back to your meal. Thank you for your advice.” To Killian, he said, “I’ll be at my usual table.”

  Killian nodded. “I’ll find you later. We can talk about Bianca.”

  Bianca was one of Ezra’s other restaurants, closer to the suburbs. And it sounded like they were having chef problems. I immediately wondered who they would hire.

  Killian hovered a second longer before nodding toward his kitchen. “I should get back. I just wanted to make sure everything tasted fine.”

  “Thanks for checking on us,” Molly gushed before I could answer. “I didn’t know food could taste this good.”

  I kicked her shin under the table.

  Killian tugged on his beard, somehow acknowledging me without looking at me. “I don’t believe you.” Finally, he turned back to me and said, “I’ll have Shane clean this up and bring you dessert. You can stay as long as you’d like, the meal is on me tonight.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Just tell me what you’re making this weekend,” he countered as if that would be fair play.

  I stood for almost thirty seconds not knowing what to say or how to react. He couldn’t possibly be that interested in my cooking. Or my menus. When logic failed, sarcasm swooped in to save the day. “I’d rather pay my bill,” I told him.

  His hand swiped over his mouth, hiding his brief smile. “I guess I’ll have to stop by and find out for myself then.”

  “No, that’s not what I—”

  He’d already turned away from me. “Molly, it was a pleasure to meet you. Forgive my friend, he’s a bigger asshole than I am.” Molly tried to apologize for her behavior too, but Killian cut us both off and said, “Goodnight, ladies.”

  Then he was gone. Like a dragon back to his lair.

  I turned to Molly. “What just happened?”

  Her eyes cut across the restaurant to where Ezra had disappeared. “I’m not totally sure I know.”

  “Men are weird.”

  She gave me a sympathetic smile. “I think you might be on to something with your vow of celibacy.”

  “So, are you saying you’re taking the vow with me?”

  Her head tipped back with the force of her laughter. “No, God, no. I was just admitting that you’re smarter than me.”

  I leaned back when Shane showed up to swap our third course plates for a buffet of desserts. “Would you ladies like to see the coffee menu?”

  I winked at Molly. “Absolutely.”

  Twelve

  Three days later, I got a call from Vann while I was in the middle of prepping tonight’s crispy pork belly pot pie, which was not at all inspired by Killian or Lilou or the dinner Molly and I shared Tuesday night that I hadn’t stopped thinking about once. I wiped my hands on my apron and tucked my phone between my shoulder and chin.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked instead of a regular hello.

  “I just wanted to go over everything again before I pick him up.”

  My brother sounded scared and un
sure. I could count on one hand how many times Vann had been afraid of something growing up. But my dad’s illness was one of them.

  Steadying my voice and doing my best to sound casual, I explained the chemo treatment area. “You’ll be in a private room, so you won’t have to deal with anyone else except the nurse. There’s a TV. He’ll probably sleep through most of it.”

  “And when will he get sick?

  “Not until Sunday.” Dad was getting sicker with each treatment. He’d started out handling them like a champ, but recently the two days following his treatment were bad.

  Thankfully, I had Sunday off so I could sit with him and wait on him when he needed me. Dad’s treatments were usually on Tuesday, so I always took him. But this week, they asked him to come in on Friday. He had ten weeks of treatment left. Vann offered to take him today, so I could work.

  Vann was quiet for so long that I had to look at my phone to make sure the line was still connected. “Is he going to be okay, Vera?”

  I leaned over the counter, curling my fingers around the edge and squeezing tightly until I was positive I wouldn’t crumple on the ground. When I’d first come home, we’d only had to face the diagnosis. Dad didn’t want surgery, but he’d agreed to chemo.

  Fine. That was his choice. But he’d still looked healthy. From the outside, it was impossible to tell that something monstrous was destroying him from the inside out.

  Now, he looked sick. Now, he looked like a cancer patient. Now, I wanted to beg and plead and demand he live.

  “I don’t know, Vann,” I whispered into the phone.

  He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Let’s have supper together Sunday night. I know dad won’t feel up for much, but I’ll bring over chicken noodle from Rusty’s and that bread he likes.”

  I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead, doing my best to hold it together. “That’s a good idea. We can play Scrabble and watch 60 Minutes.”

  “This is dumb,” he groaned. “I hate this.”

  Sniffling, I agreed. “Me too. But he’ll be happy you’re taking him today. He’s worried you’re jealous that I moved home.”

  Vann didn’t respond to that, making me wonder if it was true after all. “I love you, Vera.”

  I didn’t know what to say for a minute. Vann and I weren’t overly demonstrative. Dad’s sickness had put things into perspective for us both. “I love you too, Vann.” Then I thought of something. “He likes HGTV. He’ll tell you to put on whatever you want, but he wants the house hunting and remodeling shows. Even if he’s asleep.”

  Vann’s chuckle was relieved but fragile. “Midget house hunters it is.”

  “I don’t think that’s what it’s called.”

  “Here he comes. I’ll call you after.”

  “Give him my love.” We hung up, and I stared at the phone for a minute, wondering if I shouldn’t just abandon service tonight and meet them at the clinic.

  I was just about to pack up shop when the door swung open, scaring the absolute crap out of me. I clutched my butcher knife and spun around.

  Killian prowled into the small truck, shrinking everything under the strength of his anger. He held up his phone, shaking it back and forth at me. “Fussy? Pretentious?”

  I bit my lip to keep from smiling. He’d found my Yelp review.

  “What’s going on?” I asked innocently.

  He glared at me and my knees nearly buckled under the force of it. Clearing his throat, he turned back to his phone and began reading. “I went to Lilou despite everything I knew it would be. And unfortunately, it lived up to every one of my expectations. I knew the atmosphere would be stuffy. And it was. I knew the food would be fussy. And it was. I knew the chef, Killian Quinn, who is raved about in some circles, but otherwise known to be a total douche, would be snobby. And he was. The garnishes were all a little much for my standards. And I can’t remember one dish that wasn’t overly salty. Not to mention I was looking forward to a charcuterie board and disappointed to find that they did not offer one. Obviously, nobody would call Lilou cutting edge, but I would have felt comforted knowing they at least tried to keep up with current trends. All in all, while the food was executed well enough, I was underwhelmed. To be fair, the desserts were incredible. But I heard they outsource those. In the end, I expected more from a chef with Quinn’s reputation.” Killian looked up at me again, his green eyes hot and furious. “That’s my latest Yelp review,” he explained. “Posted by someone with the screen name Nanananabooboo.”

  I cleared my throat and checked the exits. He was blocking the doorway, but maybe I could throw myself out one of the windows?

  Deciding on guiltless ignorance, I threw myself into the role. “Yikes. That sucks.”

  “Vera.”

  “I mean, why even write something so vicious?” I gulped nervously but just kept digging my grave. “Although, Nanananabooboo does bring up some valid points. Would it be the worst thing to—”

  “Vera,” Killian growled. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Yes?” Licking dry lips, I tried again. “No. I mean no. I’m not kidding you.”

  His voice dropped low, menacing. He did not find the review hilarious at all. “What is this, Delane? Is this your idea of a joke?”

  It was my idea of a joke. Or payback. After all his helpful notes and midnight tutoring sessions, this was exactly my idea of vengeance. Only now, with him standing across the food truck looking so big and scary, I wasn’t so sure that it was my brightest idea ever.

  To be fair, Molly had even tried to talk me out of it. But we’d gone back to her apartment after our life-altering meal at Lilou, opened a bottle of wine and I’d lost the ability to make rational decisions.

  My gaze jumped from Killian to the door, to Killian back to the counter behind me, to Killian then up to the ceiling. If this was my “act casual” look, I should probably give up my dreams of being an international spy. “Come on, you can’t think that’s me.”

  His expression hardened, his mouth pulling down in a frown. “I don’t think. I know it’s you.” He took a step forward. I retreated instinctively.

  “You can’t know that it’s me.”

  He took another step towards me. “I can.”

  I changed tactics. “It’s just Yelp. Who reads Yelp anyway?”

  “It’s the first thing that shows up on a Google search!”

  He’d stopped moving right in front of me. I could feel his body heat and smell his skin. My heartbeat skipped in my chest, desperately trying to run away.

  “You were Googling yourself, weren’t you? That’s how you found it.” I narrowed my eyes, trying frantically to turn this into a joke we could both laugh about. “I bet you have alerts set up. I bet it pinged you when it went live.”

  His eyes darkened, and his mouth pressed into a straight line, disappearing behind his beard. Belatedly, I found the nerve to run, but he was faster than me. Or maybe he’d been expecting me to run and so he was prepared.

  I darted away from him, ready to throw myself out the front door, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back to his body. I landed in a surprised heap against his chest, my cheek smooshed over his chiseled pectoral muscle.

  I rested there for a second. Maybe two seconds.

  There was a good possibility it was at least thirty seconds.

  Hot awareness zinged through me with my body pressed so tightly to his. He was breathing heavily, worked up by the review, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be plastered over his well-defined body in other circumstances.

  Like if we were both naked, for example.

  Replacing my cheek with my hand, I quickly pushed away from him, desperate for space. He kept hold of my wrist and caged me in against the cool counter.

  My butt hit the edge, and my back bowed to put some space between my now looming neighbor and me. Killian’s hands rested on either side of my waist, making an impenetrable prison while his body leaned over mine, holding my full attent
ion.

  I tried not to smell him again, but he was everywhere. And so very close. His thighs rested against mine. His stomach against mine. Our chests were just inches apart. If I leaned forward just a smidge, I could head butt him. Or bite him.

  Or kiss him.

  I swallowed through the dysfunctional lump in my throat. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Forcing a confession.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Confess, Vera. Confess that the review was yours and that you didn’t mean it.”

  I rolled my eyes, faking bravado. “Never.”

  His head dropped, the heat warming, shifting, evolving from one kind of frustration to another. His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Vera,” he warned.

  I shivered at the way his deep voice curled around my name. He was so close. So intimidating. So something I wouldn’t let myself admit.

  “Tell me it’s yours,” he demanded.

  Shaking my head, I realized I should have been afraid of him right now. The trauma of my past should have triggered all kinds of fear and panic and desperation. I should be kicking and screaming or at the very least curled up into a helpless ball of uselessness.

  Instead of freaking out, I felt something different, something fluttery and hot and hungry. At the same time, I realized I was taunting Killian on purpose, seeing just how far I could push him, I admitted that I wasn’t afraid of him. That I even might have, sort of, trusted him.

  At least I trusted him not to hurt me.

  If I would have imagined this scenario yesterday, I would have denied it. I would have stood by the fact that every executive chef, maybe every man on the planet (except my dad and Vann), were the same. They all had excessive egos and the need to be coddled, worshiped and obeyed. And when they didn’t get their way, they took it out on whomever could be hurt the most.

  Yesterday, I thought all men were assholes, and the lead asshole of them all was Killian Quinn.

  Today, he’d made me acknowledge the truth. Killian could be an asshole, but he wasn’t only an asshole. And he was a man, but he wasn’t a bad man.