He jerked his chin in concession one more time, his shoulders relaxing just barely. “There’s one more thing.”
I resisted the urge to turn my back and end the conversation. Ezra barely knew my name, let alone anything about my relationship with Killian. His warning didn’t endear me to him at all. But all of Killian’s comments about Ezra finally made sense.
Reminding myself that this was Killian’s friend and the owner of three highly successful restaurants, I bit my tongue and waited.
He held my gaze, unflinching. “I’d like you to apply for a job.”
I blinked at him, trying to decide if this was real or if I had started hallucinating. “What?” When I’d first handed Ezra his order of food, I’d hoped to impress him. In reality, I’d basically just said “What?” for fifteen minutes straight.
Because that always made a lasting impression. Good job, Vera.
“Are you familiar with Bianca?”
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
This isn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. HOW WAS THIS HAPPENING???
“I am,” I croaked.
“I recently let the head chef go, and I’m having trouble replacing him. I’m wondering if you would like to audition for the position? Killian only has good things to say about you. His opinion is important to me. And he knows food. That said, I’d still need to see what you’re capable of myself. I’d like to see how you are with meal progression, so a five-course would be appropriate. Although, we do have a pastry chef at Bianca, so you wouldn’t need to worry about dessert long term. I’d just like to see your range, what you’re capable of. I’d also like to see a few variants of appetizers, soups, salads, entrees, sides, etc. You could use Bianca’s kitchen and pantry. I’m sure you’ll find that it has whatever you need. If not, just let me know what you’re missing, and I’ll make sure it’s available. I can email you the details, and we can go from there.”
He stopped talking, and I just stared at him. I didn’t know how to respond. He was offering me… everything. Honestly, everything I had ever wanted.
Bianca? Was he kidding?
Bianca was a dream kitchen. No, not a dream kitchen, the dream kitchen. With a reputation as good as Lilou’s, my reputation would be catapulted to the next level. Or the next five levels. People would know my name, associate it with one of the best kitchens in the region. I would be somebody. My budget would be nearly unlimited. I would have an entire staff working for me. I would have a reservation list that was impossible to get on.
Executive chef.
I would be the executive chef.
His hand reached out between us. “Vera?”
Clearly, he thought I was having a stroke. To be fair, I might have been. I couldn’t even mentally wrap my head around his offer. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to process everything.”
His mouth twitched in an almost smile. “I understand. This is really out of the blue.”
Out of the fucking blue! But I didn’t say that part out loud. “Can I have some time to think about it?” My voice shook as words I hardly expected ever to say escaped. “I, I… I just opened my food truck. I’m still getting my legs under me.”
His almost smile disappeared, a frown turning down his mouth instead. “Of course,” he clipped out politely. “I wish I could give you all the time you need, but this is a position I need to fill soon. Can you let me know what you decide by Monday?”
It was Friday. “Yes. I can do that. I can let you know by Monday.”
He nodded and began to walk away.
Realizing I had just made the biggest mistake of my career to date—which was saying something—I panicked. “Wait, I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m comparing my food truck to Bianca. I’m not. I just opened it, and I have quite a bit of financial responsibility tied up in it. I need to figure a few things out is what I’m saying. I apologize if it came out differently.”
This time he allowed a full smile, and I nearly had heart palpitations. Good grief. No wonder he had so many ex-girlfriends. “It’s fine, Vera. Really. Just because I’m used to getting my way all the time, doesn’t mean I should. You deserve time to mull this over. Executive chef in any one of my kitchens is not for the faint of heart.” I gulped audibly. His expression softened, taking pity on me. “But if Killian thinks so highly of you, I can’t help but believe you’re cut out for it.”
My insides became all melty chocolate for this man that had so completely captured my heart.
Killian. Not Ezra. I barely knew Ezra.
And like I said, I was fully gone for Killian.
“Thank you, Ezra. I really appreciate this opportunity.” I smiled, settling into confidence I had never felt before. Partly because I’d just been offered a dream position. Partly because Killian thought so highly of me, he’d convinced his friend I was worthy of the position, but mostly because I did feel worthy of it.
I could run Bianca. It wouldn’t be easy. It would take an insane amount of work and practice and hours. But I could do it.
I’d made Foodie a success in only a few months. I could tackle Bianca, too.
The question was, did I want to?
“I’ll look forward to your answer.” Ezra tapped the top of the cardboard box he held. “This was delicious, Vera. Killian has impeccable taste.”
My smile stretched and my chest squeezed. He’d complimented my food, but I could see in his warm expression that he meant it twofold.
I walked back to my kitchen on cloud nine, grinning from ear to ear.
“I take it you don’t hate him quite as much as I do,” Molly grumped. A line of people had formed, and she had a handful of order tickets.
“He offered me a job,” I told her gleefully. “But even better, he approves.”
“Approves of what?” Her eyes were as big as possible.
“Of Killian and me.”
At that, her eyes softened, and her expression turned adoring. “Of course he does. You’re perfect for each other. Now cook these before you run yourself out of business.”
I took the order tickets from her unable to break my smile. The differences between Derrek and Killian went on forever. But this was one of my favorites—the best friend support. Molly’s seal of approval felt amazing.
There was nothing to hide from Molly or Vann or my dad. There was nothing to keep secret or manipulate into sounding better than reality.
More of the pieces of my lost self clicked into place. I found more of me. I became more of me.
And it felt good.
For the first time in so long, I felt like me. Completely, wholly me.
Twenty-Four
“We need to talk about something.” Killian showed up later that night, all black t-shirt, tattooed skin and sexy beard.
I cut my eyes to Molly, wondering if I needed a rescue. Talk about what? I suddenly felt like I was in trouble for something. “Why?”
He crossed his arms, resting them on the window and leaning in the truck. “When are you out of here?”
Uh, oh.
“Things have died down. I can be done soon.” I cleared my throat and focused on the bread crumbs clinging to my chef’s coat. “Unless it picks up again. Then, it could be hours before I close.” I looked up. “Days even.”
His lips twitched. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, hiding his reaction. “That busy, huh?”
I held my poker face. “Yep.”
He patted the inside of the truck, the muscles in his tanned forearms flexing and shifting. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
He said goodbye to Molly and started walking backward. I panicked and called after him. “Then what?”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Then we talk.”
I stepped to the window. “About what?”
He smiled, flashing white teeth surrounded by dark, alluring beard. “Don’t be so nervous, Delane. If I bite, I promise you’ll like it.”
Turning around, he darted
across the street, leaving me nervous for an entirely different reason now.
“Vera,” Molly asked in a quiet voice, “Do you just spontaneously orgasm all the time when he’s around?”
I leaned against the window and bugged my eyes out. “Yes,” I agreed. “All the time.”
“Seriously, though, are you okay? What does he want to talk to you about?”
I shook my head, tension curling inside me once again. “I have no idea. He makes me so nervous.”
She released a bubbly laugh, reminding me my fears were probably unfounded. “Why?”
Shrugging, I moved back to the galley so I could start cleaning up. “Habit, I think? I don’t know. He’s so intense. I never know whether to call him on his bullshit or just strip naked so he can have his way with me.” I looked up at her. “Maybe I’ll try shrinking into a ball and seeing what that gets me.”
Molly lifted a finger, wiggling it at me. “No shrinking. You’re done shrinking, Vere. You were meant to shine, friend. End of story.”
I wrinkled my nose and tried to believe her. “That’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“The best things in life never are,” she reminded me. “Doesn’t mean they’re not worth pursuing.”
My breath of relief came from some deep recess of my soul, filled with truth and understanding and hope. For the first time in a long time… hope.
“Thanks, Molly. For tonight, and for everything else too. For being there for me even when I shut you out and became someone I’m not proud of.”
She closed the distance between us, wrapping me up in a hug. I hugged her back, finding closure in our relationship I hadn’t let us breach before. “It doesn’t matter,” she promised. “All that matters is that you’re someone I’m beyond proud of now. You’re someone that didn’t break beneath the weight of something so ugly. You got out. You left. And you fought and fought and fought until you made something amazing. You’re my hero, Vera.”
I squeezed her tightly. “You’re my hero too, Molls.” And she was. For being the friend that didn’t judge and only supported. For being the woman who didn’t get herself into bad relationships. Not just because she was quiet, and so sweet and nice, but for always sticking up for herself. For never being the doormat. For being beautiful and kind and giving. She was exactly who I wanted to be when I grew up.
“Now do what you need to do before Killian comes back and bites you.”
I stepped back from her laughing, smiling, happier than I could remember in a long time.
Killian returned an hour later, just like he’d promised. He stepped inside the truck without an invitation and picked up a crate of leftover food. “I’m taking these to Lilou tonight, so you don’t have to drive all the way over to the commissary.”
“Do I get a say?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s one-thirty in the morning. Do you want a say?”
I repressed a smile. “Is it okay? I mean, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
He moved toward the door. “It’s my kitchen. I decide what goes in it.”
Okay, then.
After he’d dropped off my crates of food in his kitchen and locked up Lilou, he stood by while I locked up Foodie. There was something about the moment that sent warm tingles spiraling through me. The late fall night, the sounds and smells of a city I had come to adore, Killian at my side after a long, fulfilling night of doing something I loved so much… it felt right.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and tugged me back against his chest, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Where’s your car, Molly?”
She pointed at her Jetta parked on the street. “Just there.”
“We’ll watch to make sure you’re okay?” Killian told her.
There was an awkward silence where Molly and I had a nonverbal conversation using only our eyebrows. Eventually, she waved at both of us, a grin plastered across her smug face. “Call me tomorrow, Vere.”
“Drive carefully,” I answered noncommittally.
True to his word, Killian and I stood there until she’d gotten in her car and safely driven away. His arms tightened around my waist. “Ready?”
I struggled to swallow through a suddenly very dry throat. “For what?”
He kissed the spot just below my ear. “Our talk.”
“Do I have a choice?”
I felt his smile against my neck. “You always have a choice, but I’d like it if you stopped being such a little chicken, got on the back of my motorcycle and let me take you home with me.”
Nerves pelted my insides so abruptly I jerked in his arms. “I thought you wanted to talk?”
“We’ll start with talking,” he amended. “We can see where it leads.”
This was a trick. I knew it was a trick. He hinted at fun things to get me to say yes to the un-fun things.
But it worked.
I linked my hand with his and let him pull me across the street to where his bike was parked. We decided to leave my car at Vann’s shop so I could ride with him.
He threw on his leather jacket and pulled out the helmet for me. I had to redo my hair in a low ponytail to get it to fit, but I made it work. He gently cradled my helmet-covered head with two hands and grinned at me. “Fucking sexy as sin,” he murmured. Then he climbed on his bike and tilted his head for me to join him.
I had jealous flashbacks of watching him take a different girl home on the back of this bike. But I quickly shooed them away. We’d both been tested since our naughty night at Lilou. We were both clean and committed to this thing between us. I didn’t have to worry about nameless blondes riding home with Killian or riding him.
I just had to worry about me doing those things.
Gulp.
Leaving my chef’s coat on to protect my arms during the drive, I climbed on the back of Killian’s motorcycle feeling beyond bad ass. My thighs hugged the backs of his, and I linked my arms around his solid core. A shiver rippled through me, heating my body with bright awareness.
“Hold on,” he called over his shoulder. I did as he said.
He started the bike and took off out of the plaza, zipping through the cool night with smooth efficiency. I clung to him, enjoying the ride and the flight of butterflies tumbling around my belly.
To calm my racing pulse, I focused on the city zooming by. The night air was crisp and just damp with the heavy dew that settled on the ground in these middle of the night hours. The streets were mostly dead, leaving plenty of room for Killian to navigate smoothly.
I stared into darkened shop windows and down dark, quiet streets. The stoplights gleamed red and green, glittering on the pavement under a night sky filled with sparkling stars.
There was something about this time of night that made me feel so achingly at home, comfortable. These were the hours I lived for and the life I was getting used to living.
I would never have a traditional nine to five job. I would never wake up with the dawn and get home in time to make a normal dinner. I would, hopefully, always head to work at odd hours and stay until everyone else was safely tucked away in bed. I would always fall asleep closer to the time that everyone else woke up and drag myself out of bed not long after so I could get to the market in time for the freshest ingredients. I would never look forward to the weekends because I got them off. No, I would anticipate them for their busy chaos, for the crowd-filled dining rooms and even later nights.
This was the life I chose. The life I fought to have.
The life I fought to keep.
Killian turned down a tree-lined street with a gorgeous limestone church on the corner. Tall, narrow spirals reached toward heaven, a golden bell nestled between the two. My heart thumped at the quaint beauty of his street and then twice more when we pulled up to a cool looking bungalow, complete with a covered porch and blue front door.
He parked his bike in the garage behind the house and grabbed my hand as soon as I’d slid off the seat. We didn’t talk as he led me through his back door and into
his kitchen.
Love at first sight. Maybe not with Killian, but definitely with his kitchen. Granite countertops, glass-door refrigerator, huge, stainless steel range. The center island stretched long and wide, scattered with fresh fruit and a massive wooden cutting board, one side was sprinkled with flour and a discarded dish towel. His house smelled like baked bread and roasted garlic and everything wonderful.
Killian went about flicking on lights and setting his things down. I unbuttoned my chef coat feeling silly in work clothes.
I imagined the first time at his house to be better planned. I’d pictured a sexy outfit and hair that hadn’t been smashed beneath a helmet and wild from a night working in my kitchen. I’d also hoped to be perfectly groomed in all the right places and not covered in kitchen grease and pickle juice.
But to be fair, Killian never did what I expected him to do. And we never happened like I expected us to happen. So, this was all fair play.
He swung open his beautiful refrigerator. “Water? Beer? Wine?”
“Water and wine, please?”
He pulled out two cold bottles of water and tossed me one before stepping into his pantry for the wine. As he opened the bottle and set it aside to rest for a few minutes, I took a seat at one of his iron barstools. “Your house is gorgeous.”
One of his shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. “It’s a little much for just me. But it’s like my one hang-up from growing up in the system. I wanted a nice place to come home to. And I wanted space. I wanted privacy.”
I stared at him, wondering if maybe that wasn’t all. Maybe that was all he wanted to admit to me tonight, but there was more from his life in foster care that left scars.
Not that he hadn’t come out perfectly adjusted, but I knew better than anyone that our pasts marked us in ways we couldn’t escape. They shaped us into the adults we were destined to be whether we wanted them to or not.
It was up to us how we used those experiences. We could let them own us, or we could let them be the journey they were meant to be, the stepping stones to a better life, a better self. Each moment, good or bad, a tool to give us the strength we needed to be the person we were supposed to be.
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 28
