Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  Wyatt stepped back and addressed my parents. “Your food should be out in a minute. It was nice to meet, y’all. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.” To me, he said, “I’ll text you later, yeah?” He started to pull away but didn’t. He quickly leaned in and caught my ear with his lips. “By the way, I’m thinking about making this your new dress code. Goddamn, woman, you know how to bring me to my knees.” And then he was gone. Back to his lair, while I was left to convince my body it still had bones to hold me up with.

  How did he do that? How did he make me feel so completely hot and melty and… soft? I wasn’t soft. I was hard, edgy… biting. I was a venomous snake. I was a snarling Pitbull. A barbwire version of what I used to be before unrequited love and devastating heartache had made me completely pull into myself.

  Bracing myself for my parent’s questions, I collapsed on my chair and turned to face them. They were as flabbergasted as I was. All they could do was blink at me.

  Thankfully, our food came out, saving us from trying to speak in full sentences until we’d collected our scattered wits.

  Kim went over each dish, reminding us what was in front of us. She took another drink order—I asked Darius to surprise us.

  I wasn’t entirely sure that alcohol was going to improve the evening, but I was willing to give it a shot. Besides… I still had two days left with my mother. Probably best to soak everything in booze—especially my sharp tongue.

  “Wyatt seems nice,” my dad said evenly as he cut up his steak.

  “Are you dating him?” my mother demanded, her tone shrill and slicing. “Is this what your hang up with work is?”

  I took a bite of my handmade tortellini, closing my eyes against the fresh taste of blanched sweet peas and wholesomeness of pasta from scratch. The sauce was perfect tonight, hot and creamy and just a little tart thanks to the sharpness of the aged parmesan. God, I could eat a gallon of this. Carbs and my ass be damned.

  “The thing with Wyatt is…” Not real. Too real. So very real. “Early.” I cleared my throat. “My hang up with work is that I love it. I love it more than I’ve loved anything in my life.” I pointed my fork at her when she started to protest. “Including Nolan.”

  “Maybe you should back off for tonight, Dana,” my dad tried.

  But my mom was a dog with a bone. “You can’t hide in a kitchen your whole life, Kaya. Eventually you’re going to have to come out. And when you do you’re going to find that you’re all alone and life has,” she made a vanishing gesture with her hands, “passed you by. No man is going to want a shriveled-up spinster, even if she can cook him a good meal.”

  I slid to the edge of my chair. “Life is not passing me by, Mother,” I snapped. “I’m living life. I’m living it to the fullest. I have an amazing job. A job other chefs would literally kill for.” I glanced at my dad. “Not literally. But do you know how many other chefs want my job? How many are dying for the day I leave? A ton. So many. And I love my friends. And I love my apartment in the city. And I love my life. I love it. And I have a man. A good man. A smart, creative, super talented man. A man that I love—” the words caught me off guard, sticking in my throat and burning my tongue. I hadn’t meant to say that. I hadn’t even meant to think it. “To work with,” I finished. Calmer, slower, with more intention, I repeated. “A man I love to work with. A man that makes me a better chef. And a better person.” I relaxed in my chair, realizing that all these things were true. I not only felt them, I meant them. I didn’t have to convince anyone else. I could… rest in their truth. I held my mother’s angry gaze, praying she would see the sincerity in mine. “Nolan was never that man for me, Mama. We were kids. And he… he’s never grown up. He’s still the same kid, still playing the same games, still using the same tricks. But I’m not the same. I have grown up. And my taste has grown up. My qualifications. My preferences. I’m sorry that you think Nolan is this great love of my life, but he’s not. And I’m also sorry that you think I need a husband to make my life worth living. Because I don’t. I’m happy. Really, truly happy. And I would love it if you would be happy for me.”

  Both of my parents stared at me, hardly believing the words that had come out of my mouth. For so long I’d been the silent victim to her constant nagging. I’d taken her anger, believing I deserved it, deserved their anger.

  I’d felt guilty for running away. I’d felt guilty for leaving Nolan, for leaving Hamilton, for leaving everything behind. And they were so content with their life, so utterly happy with the smallness of it. I couldn’t live that way. That life wasn’t for me. Those people weren’t for me. Nolan wasn’t for me.

  It had taken almost ten years and an unlikely arrogant chef to help me see it, but I finally felt released from the chains of my childhood.

  My mother twisted the napkin in her lap and stared at her untouched pork belly. “Well.” She sniffed.

  Surprising everyone, my father barked a low, “Enough, Dana. Eat the damn good food and give her a break for once.”

  I had to shove some tortellini in my mouth to hide my smile. My dad never stood up to my mom. Like ever.

  But then again, neither did I.

  It might have been my imagination, but our dinner tasted even better after that. The conversation fell to safe topics like my sisters and how good everything was and the genius that was Darius the master barman.

  My dad and I even laughed over the different names of dishes as I explained the rest of the menu and how frilly everything sounded. My mom never quite got over her ruffled feathers, but that was okay. I was willing to risk hers if it meant mine could be left alone.

  By the time we got home, I was exhausted. All of us were ready for bed. I said goodnight to my parents and headed to my room.

  Mindlessly working through my nightly routine, I saved plugging my phone in for last. I knew I’d have a text waiting for me. I had several—precisely what I expected after Wyatt’s full on possessively affectionate act tonight.

  There were several waiting for me from Dillon and Benny, even Endo had texted a WTF?!?! But it was Wyatt’s and only Wyatt’s that I was interested in opening. There were four of them, sent throughout the night.

  Keep thinking about you and that dress, Kaya. Damn.

  Five minutes later he added, But it’s not better than you stripped naked for me. Need to see that again real soon.

  An hour later he sent, Hope I didn’t piss your parents off too badly. To be fair, I was on my best behavior. At least considering the circumstances. Don’t remember being that irritated in a long time.

  And then twenty minutes ago. PS, who the fuck is Nolan?

  I typed back, He’s nobody. For the first time in too many years, I meant it.

  Eighteen

  A week later, I was back at Sarita and felt more at home than ever. Not just in this restaurant, but in my own skin.

  After my parents left Monday morning, I’d grabbed some breakfast tacos, headed over to Lilou and enjoyed some one on one time with Wyatt. We’d spread out in his office and laughed over the total headcase that was my mother.

  I thought he was going to be as exhausted with her as I always was, but he had been surprisingly endeared. He claimed that he loved to see how much she cared about me, even if it drove me crazy. And knowing his story with his mom, I relaxed. My mom made me see red most days, but Wyatt was right, she loved me more than anything.

  He’d asked about Nolan and I had reluctantly shared—not because I was afraid of what he would think or of reopening my old wounds, but because Nolan finally felt like my past. I finally felt like I could let him go and move on. It wasn’t even hard for me to admit that Wyatt had played a major role in my new-found freedom. He had helped me see that I was worthy again, that I was desirable. He’d helped me shed the prison of not feeling wanted, not feeling good enough.

  And yes, Wyatt’s affection and desire helped speed the healing process along. But it was more than that too. It was his respect for me, his utter belief in me. It was the w
ay he lifted me up and chased after me.

  I’d let one bad relationship define me for too long. Wyatt had opened my eyes to a whole new way of thinking. Nolan’s rejection didn’t get to have a hold on me anymore. I truly was the strong, independent, capable woman I had claimed to be for so long. And I might forget that sometimes in the future, but I would make sure Wyatt always reminded me. Or Dillon. Or I would tape sticky notes all over my house that screamed the truth at me. Never again would I let someone else decide my self-worth.

  Our conversation had ended with secret kisses and wandering hands. We’d locked ourselves in his office until our coworkers started to show up and we were forced to act professionally again.

  We’d been playing the same game all week. And I thought we’d been doing a pretty good job of being discreet until yesterday when Dillon had caught me walking out of Wyatt’s office with my chef coat undone and my lacey bra beneath totally disheveled. She’d been texting me nonstop today. I’d been faithfully ignoring her glee.

  Vera spun a plate in front of her and nonchalantly mentioned, “Ezra’s going to stop by tonight.”

  I focused on plating scallions atop bite-sized circles of bacon-wrapped scallops. Albeit reluctantly.

  This was a dish I would change in a heartbeat. No more bacon wrapping anything. If we were going to add bacon to a plate, it was going to be the feature, damn it. Not the saving grace to an otherwise bland, boring and outdated yawn-fest of a dish. And we wouldn’t cut corners by gift wrapping mediocre seafood with overpowering salt parties.

  No, the right bacon could stand on its own. And the right scallops should stand on their own. I would take this dish and make it into two. Scallops diced over toasted lavash, with sharp asiago cream sauce sprinkled on top, and a mint, cucumber drizzle finish.

  For the bacon dish? A thickly cut piece to feel like steak, crispy on the outside, perfectly done on the inside, served with a tomatillo and jicama chutney and a microgreen salad on top.

  The thoughts spiraled through me, anchoring my feet to the ground when all my body wanted to do was float away.

  I could do this. I could impress Ezra.

  Maybe.

  Hopefully.

  Okay, at the very least I could manage to get through casually meeting him tonight without un-impressing him. That was my goal—don’t un-impress him.

  I cleared my throat, hiding the wobble waiting in the wings. “Oh yeah? When do you think that will be?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug. “I have no idea. Who knows why or when the man does the things that he does.”

  I had been in the kitchen all night, working alongside Vera and getting a feel for the Sarita kitchen. Service was so different here. I hadn’t expected to feel quite so out of my depth.

  Most of the reservations at Lilou were for two-tops, seating two people, and the occasional four-top. Because the reservation list was so many months out, most people only risked including one other person—usually a person they were legally bound to by marriage. Or on a date seriously trying to impress the other party. But at Sarita everything was a massive party. And I didn’t mean the vibe of this place. Every table had four plus diners. And they ordered copious amounts of dishes thanks to the way they were served stacked on top of each other.

  In Lilou’s kitchen, our normal table needed two plates finished at the same time. Here we were talking an average of six to eight plates ready all at once. And twice tonight, we’d had three orders of fifteen plus plates.

  I had stopped thinking terrible thoughts about Juan Carlo three hours ago. I’d decided that he was a saint to put up with this for as long as he did. I also understood why this kitchen was messier than I was used to. At the speed people moved around this kitchen, it was no wonder it had been total chaos. These people didn’t just cook, they flew.

  Vera paused over the dish she was finishing in tandem with mine and smiled at me. “Don’t be nervous,” she encouraged. “You’re fabulous.”

  I was sweaty. And maybe smelly. Like, I said, tonight had been a doozy. But to Vera, I said, “Thanks. And thanks for doing this with me. Even if I don’t get the job, this has been a great experience.”

  Her smile widened with genuine kindness. “First of all, if you don’t get this job, Ezra is bananas. Because you’re amazing. And second, there are plenty of other positions around the city that you would be great for. This isn’t your only shot.” She leaned in. “For instance, I know of a great little up and coming restaurant that could use good staff.”

  I laughed. “Is it that new place called Pepper?”

  She frowned immediately. “Don’t joke. That’s literally my biggest fear. Killian wants to name the baby Pepper. He’s all, get it? And I’m like, OMG, stop.”

  “The baby?”

  Her eyes widened until they were the size of the moon. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean to say that!” Her head whipped right and left checking out who had overheard. Satisfied that her words had been lost in the clatter of dinner service, she leaned in and begged, “Please don’t say anything to anyone, Kaya! We’re keeping it a secret for a while longer. We haven’t even told our families and they will be pissed if they’re the last ones to find out.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” I told her, my smile so big it hurt my cheeks. “I won’t say anything. But I am so, so happy for you!”

  Her cheeks turned pink, but the panicked look on her face softened. “Thank you. It’s super early. I mean, I haven’t even been to the doctor yet. I’ve only peed on a stick. And puked my guts out for the last two weeks. All signs point to baby.” She smiled down at her nonexistent tummy. “But I’ll feel better after my first checkup.”

  “Gah!” I squealed again. “This is so exciting!”

  She laughed. “And also, maybe the worst timing ever with Salt opening in two months and the wedding coming up. But at least I won’t be showing too badly for our wedding. I would die if I had to take my dress back. It’s too pretty to part with.”

  My shoulders sagged, and an ache spread over my chest. “Listen to you, Vera. Has your life ever been this perfect? You literally have everything going for you right now.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know about that.”

  I held up a hand and ticked off reasons why she was my superhero. “You’re engaged to one of the hottest chefs in the country. And he’s good-looking.” I winked at her to be cute. “You’re also having his baby. And getting married. Oh, and you’re opening your dream restaurant. I mean, seriously, you are the definition of happily ever after.”

  “Hey, happily ever after is a lot of work.” She frowned again. “It’s also been covered in puke lately.”

  I laughed with her, but I couldn’t help but feel jealous. And something worse. Something like despair. Standing next to Vera, I felt wholly unqualified to work in this kitchen or in this industry or even as a basic human. She was a true superstar. She had this amazing fiancé and an incredible business that was bound to take off with the two of them involved.

  And she was going to have Killian Quinn’s child. I mean, could you imagine the palate on that baby? It was bound to come out of the womb wielding a sauté pan.

  She nudged me with her shoulder as she finished the final touches to the plate in front of me and handed it off to the server. “Seriously, Kaya, you’re sweet, but there is nothing to be jealous of. You’ll get your version of happily ever after too. It won’t look exactly like mine, but it shouldn’t. You deserve your special thing and for it to be tailored to you.” She smiled gently. “And you’ll find it too. Whoever it’s with… whichever restaurant you work in… whatever you end up doing… it will work out. It’s probably going to be completely different than anything you thought you were going to do or be or marry. Life has a way of taking all of our expectations, flipping them on their heads, and then laughing at us while we flounder around in search of which piece goes where.”

  “That’s…” I cleared my throat, searching for something polite to say.
I didn’t find anything. “Interesting.”

  Her head tipped back, and she laughed harder. “That was supposed to encourage you.”

  “Oh, it did,” I deadpanned. “I can’t wait for my life to be so totally different than what I actually wanted. That sounds awesome.”

  She grinned again and accepted new plates getting ready to leave the kitchen. “I didn’t want to marry a chef,” she confessed. “I was in a terrible relationship during school and after. He was a chef. And he abused me.”

  I sucked in an audible breath. How did I respond to that? How was a person supposed to react? What was the social code? Who the hell cares about the social code?

  “Oh my God, Vera.” I swallowed down the quick rage against any monster that would put his hands on a girl, but especially Vera—who was kind, and so generous, and one of the most kickass chefs I’d ever met.

  She waved a hand in the air, swatting away the past. “It’s over now.” Her gaze grew distant and her shoulders jerked with a shiver. “Thank God, it’s over.” She faced me again, clear-eyed and somber. “What I’m trying to say is this. After Derrek, I was convinced I would never be able to cook in a commercial kitchen ever again. I never ever thought I’d date again, but if I did, I knew it wouldn’t be a chef. Never, ever again.”

  “Derrek is a chef?” I asked quietly, unable to quell my curiosity.

  She lifted one shoulder and rubbed her chin on it. “Derrek Hanover.”

  Holy shit! He was a decently big deal in North Carolina. He didn’t have the national acclaim that Killian did. I’d never been impressed enough to find out more than he owned a mildly popular, newly opened restaurant.

  “Vera, I’m so sorry,” I told her.

  “He was the worst,” Vera whispered. “After we, er I, ended things, I gave up on my dream of working in a restaurant completely. But then I opened Foodie, my consolation prize, and I met Killian. Now here we are, opening a restaurant together. And I never thought…” She paused, looking down at the counter and hiding the emotion in her eyes from me. “I never had a clue a relationship could be this good. Or that a man could be this amazing. Or that it was possible to have all the things that I wanted so badly, but for them to look so different. I would never relive those years of abuse or giving up on my dreams. But they led me here, to this place, and it’s so beautiful and so fulfilling that I don’t know that I’d totally give them up either.”