Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  His lawyer had joined us.

  We went straight to the Mother Tucker’s office and let him have it. It turned out Henry Junior had done exactly what I’d expected him to. He’d run to Daddy and they’d decided to fire me. Not deal with Junior’s sexual deviance in any way. But fire me.

  So, I quit.

  And even though Henry had subsequently been put on probation and sent away for training and rehabilitation in sexual misconduct, Brent was still gathering a case. It included my testimony of course. And Catherine Dawes, who had come forward after I made such a scene and stormed out of the building with my dignity intact. There were three other women from the office who were also contributing to the case. They had been shut down by HR and Mr. Tucker just like I had.

  I didn’t know what would happen to STS because of the suit. But I had trouble caring. I was sad of course that so many people might be out of a job, but if they were smart, they would jump ship before worse came to worst.

  Like Emily. Who had left STS the same day I did. We’d decided to open up a social media strategy consulting firm together. Thankfully, we knew some wealthy investors who were very interested in our services.

  Obviously, Ezra. But Killian and Vera also wanted in. They were dying for our help as they got closer to the opening of Salt. Plus, Vann wanted to hire us as well. For being only a couple of weeks old, our client list was bomb.

  Our friends were also extremely happy for us. After I officially quit STS, we’d met Vera and Killian for lunch. Our first double date. And it had been everything.

  Vera was the biggest cheerleader for our relationship, although I still blamed her pending marital bliss for her over-the-top reaction.

  But nobody had been as thrilled for us as Wyatt. Which might have sounded nice of him, but his felicitations were totally selfishly motivated. Apparently, Ezra in a committed relationship was a much easier man to work for.

  I liked to take all of the credit for that. You’re welcome, chefs of Durham.

  “Jo wants us to come over for dinner tonight,” Ezra said into my hair. “She says she wants to see this for herself.”

  “See what for herself?” I asked on a laugh. I had met Jo a couple times through Vera before, but not in this context with Ezra.

  “You and me,” he explained. “She doesn’t believe me.”

  “My parents want to have us over tomorrow night,” I countered. “They’re having trouble believing this is real too.”

  Ezra pulled back, his hands holding my body like I was the most precious thing in the world and I could float away at any second. I loved the way he held me… held onto me. “What don’t they believe?”

  “That you’re real. My mom, especially. She definitely thought I was going to marry a homeless man.”

  “I like your mom,” he said on a smile. “She’s terrifying.”

  He had to be lying. Nobody liked my mom. Not even Vera. Of course, Ezra would be the one person on the planet to appreciate her scariness. “She likes you for the same reason.”

  Leaning forward, he murmured, “I like your dad too. And I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m awesome.”

  “He doesn’t.” He totally did.

  He smiled down at me. “I better win him over with his favorite six-pack then.”

  “That would definitely help your case,” I told him. “What doesn’t Jo believe?”

  “That I’m in love,” he answered easily like it wasn’t the most profound thing he’d ever said. “She doesn’t think I’m capable.”

  My heart hammered against my chest and my fingers went numb. Did he not realize he had never said that before?! That this was the first time ever I was hearing that crazy, beautiful, soul-changing admission. “I’m sorry, wh-what?” I gasped.

  “She doesn’t believe that I fell in love.”

  I blinked at him, vaguely aware that my mouth was unhinged. “Ezra,” I pleaded.

  “Oh, have I not told you that before?” His grin was wide, and cocky, and achingly real. “I’ve been thinking it for a while. It’s hard to believe I haven’t said it. Are you sure I haven’t?”

  “Don’t torture me,” I pleaded.

  His expression softened and his hands began the slow, steady caress of a man that felt every ounce of truth in his words. “I love you, Molly Maverick.” His lips dropped to mine, kissing as if sealing his confession in me. “I love you.”

  Unbidden tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. “I love you too, Ezra Felix Baptiste.”

  He let out an impatient sigh. “I keep telling you not to use my whole name.”

  I smiled, because I knew it drove him bananas. “I like it. No, wait. I love it.”

  His head cocked back. “Are you making fun of me for telling you I love you.”

  “No, I wouldn’t do that.” I tried to keep a straight face. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

  “Unbelievable,” he groaned. “You’re completely unbelievable.”

  “But you love me anyway. I know because you just told me.”

  He didn’t know whether to glare or laugh, so instead of either, he threw me over his shoulder and stomped back to his office. I laughed hysterically when he smacked my butt.

  “Ezra Felix!” I shouted since we were the only ones in the restaurant.

  “I’m going to make you pay for that, woman,” he threatened.

  And he did. In his office, with the door locked. With laughter that never left us and whispered I love yous that we absolutely meant. With kisses that I could never get enough of, and promises of a future together that would never get boring, never lose our push and pull, and never, ever end.

  It didn’t matter how different we were or how different we would always be, Ezra was now the driving force in my life that made everything else make sense. He was my anchor when I felt like I was lost and floating away. He was my common sense and reason, and also my relentless drive. And I was his reality check when work became his life and he forgot about everything else. I was the fun and meaningful purpose for why he strove so hard.

  Yes, we were different, but only in the way two puzzle pieces are made to fit together exactly right. He was made for me and I was made for him. And we would spend the rest of our lives discovering all the ways we blended together.

  Thinking back to when I met Ezra, I couldn’t believe how wrong I’d gotten him. I’d expected arrogance and snobbery and aloof cruelty. Intsead, I’d found a man that was humble and devoted and so full of love I knew I would never get to the end of him. He swept me off my feet and changed my life forever. He’d closed the space between us and showed me just how perfect love can be.

  Our story was a complex piece of art that we worked on every day. It wasn’t always beautiful in the traditional sense, but it was captivating, and worthy and endless.

  Our happily ever after was so different than what I’d pictured, but it was right. And it was ours.

  Acknowledgments

  To God, who restores my soul, who sustains me, who gifted me these words and this book and every other thing. This is Your miracle. Thank You for letting me write it.

  To Zach, thank you for your patience with dirty laundry and takeout for every meal and all the things I failed at this time around. You are my rock when I am falling apart and my anchor when I am overwhelmed. I couldn’t do this life or this job or really anything without you. I love you.

  To Stella, Scarlett, Stryker, Solo and Saxon. Thank you for being patient with me as I worked sleepless nights and forgot playdates and birthday parties and fed you pizza more than any mom ever should. Thank you for cheering me on and missing me and loving me through all of my flaws. I love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars. You’re each my favorite.

  To my mom, for all of those sleepovers and days that let me work. Thank you for being a Nana that my kids love and trust and want to spend time with. Thank you for swooping in to save the day just like you have all my life.

  To Katie, thank you for being together when I am pe
rpetually falling apart. Thank you for caring about my mess and my kids and my deadlines, even though none of it is yours. You are a doer of deeds, my friend. And this book couldn’t have happened without your graciousness.

  To Katie, Tiffany and Sarah Jo, thank you for being the friends I’ve waited for all my adult life. Thank you for your laughter and your prayers and stepping in as social media gurus when I disappeared into the writing cave. I’m a better human because I know you girls. #communelife

  To Georgia, Shelly, Amy and Samantha, thank you for always being there for me, for always listening when I freak out and for always supporting me through everything. I could never survive this job without you. Your wisdom, your sane advice and your laughter saves me on a daily basis. I’m working on an island for us.

  To Lenore, who is basically one of my favorite humans ever. Also, my favorite beta reader ever! Thank you for understanding who I am and how I function. Thank you for always being willing to squeeze my books in and cheer them on. I would not be the writer I am without your thoughtful notes and insightful eye. Oh, you’re also my favorite Canadian!!!

  To Amy Donnelly from Alchemy and Words. Let me just say that when life threw up all over me, you are the one that kept me sane! Thank you so much for encouraging me daily. Thank you for promising that we would get this done and that everything would be okay and for being right. Thank you for being the most flexible editor on the planet- you have no idea how much that means to me. But most of all, thank you for caring about my characters and plots and words as much as I do and for making them the very best that they can be.

  To Caedus Design Co, thank you for your fantastic attention to detail and for making this cover smoking hot. Also, thank you for stepping in to make dinners all those times I forgot.

  To the Rebel Panel. You ladies have supported me for so long now, I can’t imagine releasing a book without you behind it! Thank you for putting up with my flakiness, for wanting ARCs even when they’re last minute and for loving my characters as much as I do.

  To the bloggers and reviewers, thank you so much for taking the time to read my words. I can’t tell you how honored I am that you would choose this book in a sea of other amazing works. Your time, your thoughts and your support mean everything to me. The Difference Between Us is successful because of you all. I am so grateful for your help.

  To the reader, whether you started with The Opposite of You or dove straight into the Difference Between Us. Whether you’ve been with me from the beginning or this is your first read of mine or you found me somewhere in the middle. Thank you for taking a chance on me and this book and these characters. You are the reason I get to keep writing and I am so grateful that you would spend your time with one of my stories.

  The Problem with Him

  Book 3

  Copyright@ Rachel Higginson 2018

  This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give, copy, scan, distribute or sell this book to anyone else.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  Any people or places are strictly fictional and not based on anything else, fictional or non-fictional.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copy Editing by Amy Donnelly of Alchemy and Words

  Cover Design by Caedus Design Co.

  To my Prickle,

  The group of women that have picked me for sisterhood.

  You inspire me, you challenge me, you encourage me.

  I am better because I know you.

  Thank you for being #squadgoals and my ride or die

  And all the things that make friendship lifelong.

  One

  If I were a vegetable, I would be… kohlrabi. Mildly difficult, but not overly so. A little spicy. Versatile. And highly underestimated.

  Also, kohlrabi starts with a K. Like my name—Kaya.

  Basically, it’s my spirit vegetable.

  These were the thoughts that occupied my mind at the end of a hectic night of service as I watched the braising parsnips with sniper-like sharpness.

  Earlier tonight, I’d already decided that if I were a fish, I’d be a sea urchin.

  And if I were a fruit, I’d be a jackfruit.

  I was a little concerned that every persona I picked had bumps or spikes of some kind. Obviously, I’d picked the sea urchin for its cool factor. And because it was one of those dishes that people either loved or hated. I was so that kind of person. Uni and I connected on a level even higher than spiritual.

  Metaphorically speaking, of course.

  Uni was basically the gonads of a sea urchin. That part I couldn’t relate to at all.

  And I connected to jackfruit because of its versatility. It was also high in fiber. So. There was that.

  Shaking my head, I pulled the pan off the flame and decided not to think too hard about my choices. It didn’t hurt that most children would be afraid to touch any of the items I picked. And even adults were afraid to eat them. That didn’t mean anything. This was a dumb game to pass the time since I’d been shuffled to the sides station tonight, instead of my favorite station—protein.

  As the sous chef in one of the hottest kitchens in Durham, North Carolina, working the sides station was a major insult to my talent and I needed something to entertain and distract myself.

  None of this mattered.

  Except that my parsnips looked fantastic and they were ready to finish. I scooped them out of the boiling water and added them to a bowl, so I could salt them before tossing them with the maple syrup reduction.

  My lips pressed into a frown aimed at the parsnips and stayed there while I plated them. Adding chopped candied pecans, I rethought my life choices—at least my food-as-soulmates choices.

  If I were a dessert, I’d be… ice cream.

  There. Not spiky.

  Liar, my inner voice taunted.

  Shut up, I spat back. I love ice cream. Ice cream is my favorite.

  Which of course was another lie.

  Key lime pie is my favorite. The tarter, the better.

  Again, I decided to ignore whatever direct implications that had on my personality and focused on work.

  Handing over the parsnips to one of my coworkers, he added a sloppy looking chicken roulade to finish the dish.

  If it had been an hour earlier, I probably would have called him on his crap preparation of the protein, but I was too tired at this point. And it was past the hour food bloggers and critics would have a table. Or at least I hoped it was.

  My boss leaned in and studied the plate like it held the secret cure for cancer. If only he could read the signs in the parsnips, we could save the world.

  I swallowed the urge to clear my throat and get his attention. It wouldn’t lead to anything good. I had a sneaking suspicion my true intention was to flash my middle finger at him because of how he glowered at my handiwork. And the extra few seconds he took to wipe the edges of the plate as if I had done a poor job of it myself.

  Of course, he didn’t notice the roulade. Why would he? That eyesore was prepared, cooked and finished by a good old boy. Someone he could rely on strictly because they sported uni and egos the size of North Carolina.

  Tart was an understatement. If I were a key lime pie at this point in the night, those limes would be downright bitter.

  Wyatt Shaw placed the plate on a tray
and called a waiter forward to take it.

  “Charlie forgot to take out the toothpicks,” I said in a relaxed tone that could have been mistaken for a suggestion instead of a warning.

  Wyatt kept his back to me, his shoulders stiff, his body rigid. He didn’t critique me out loud this time, but I felt his disdain as it hung heavily in the air. The waiter shifted the tray toward Wyatt, so he could remove the toothpicks and save the diner from accidentally impaling the roof of their mouth.

  Once finished, he jerked his chin down in a subtle cue for the waiter to disappear. The waiter did, scurrying to the dining room with perfect parsnips and mediocre chicken roulade. Wyatt watched him go without bothering to turn around and thank me for noticing what could have been a terrible mistake.

  That was okay. There was no need. I was much better at having that conversation in my head anyway.

  Crisis averted, asshole. You’re welcome.

  I was also very good with passive aggressive texts. We were supposed to be a united front in the kitchen, a dysfunctional mom and dad to all our little bastard children. Since Wyatt was the head chef and I was his second in command, I found it easier to communicate all my angry thoughts via SMS.

  Not that Wyatt was an amateur. He knew his way around insulting emojis better than anyone I knew.

  For instance, much earlier today he’d texted to remind me to be early for deliveries, something the two of us usually handled together. I had texted back that I remembered all on my own. He had hit me back with the surprised cat face.

  Butthead.

  His texts always riled me up and earlier in the evening I wouldn’t have held my tongue. I would have poked the bear out of need to rile him back, forced him to say what he was biting his tongue not to say—which wasn’t thank you by the way. But it was so close to quitting time now, I didn’t have the energy to fight with Wyatt. He could be disappointed in me all he wanted, I wasn’t the one that forgot about the toothpicks.