Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  “It will feel good soon enough,” he countered. “As soon as you step into your kitchen, you’ll get over the weirdness.”

  My heart kicked, knowing he was right. My kitchen. Mine.

  Just like this man was mine.

  “I think I might miss you though. Maybe a little bit.”

  He smiled at me, his mouth full of joy and wicked secrets and everything I loved so dearly. “I think I might miss you too. But more than you’ll miss me.”

  “Obviously.”

  He chuckled and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Come over tonight,” he suggested. “I want to hear all about your first day.”

  I had been nibbling on his ear, but I perked up at the prospect of a night with him. “Liar,” I teased him. “You don’t want to talk.”

  “I’ll talk for a little bit,” he laughed. “Then we’ll get to the good stuff.”

  Pulling back, I met his warm, wonderful gaze. “I thought this was the good stuff.”

  His brown eyes were all promised heat and bright, beautiful future. “Oh, it is, chef. This is the very best stuff.”

  Then he kissed me into oblivion and I couldn’t have agreed with him more.

  Untitled

  Rachel’s next project, a second chance romance is coming October 23rd, 2018! This heartwarming love story is about a small town and a big second chance.

  Trailer park born and raised. It’s my legacy. That’s how my mama lived. And how her mama lived. It’s the life I was born into and it’s the life I swore I would leave the second I was old enough to make it out.

  Only legacies have a funny way of sneaking up on you. An innocent decision the night of high school graduation led to a series of complications in my plans to escape.

  Seven years later, I’ve resigned myself to this small town and the roots I’m tied to. Nothing could make me leave. And nothing could make me spill the secrets that keep me here.

  Until he walks back into town with a chip on his shoulder and a stupid hunch nobody else in town has been smart enough to follow.

  Levi Cole is my opposite. Born on the right side of the tracks with family money to spare, he’s the kind of black sheep that can afford to be rebellious—because his family will always pay for his mistakes. He’s also the only living heir to Cole Family Farms, after his brother Logan was killed in an accident seven years ago.

  He sees something in my life that he thinks he has a right to. But he’s wrong. And obnoxious. And he needs to take his stubborn good looks and that intense way he stares at me and go back to wherever it was he came from.

  I know better than to trust men like him. I was born and raised in a trailer park, I know nothing good happens to girls like me—girls with trailer park lives and trailer park hearts. Especially from gorgeous, kind, pigheaded men like him.

  Acknowledgments

  To my God and for this blessing of needing You. Every book, every day, every hour.

  To Zach, thank you for all the ways you take care of me and our family and the house while I hide away and pull my hair out. You’re the reason our kids eat supper, the reason the house isn’t falling down and the reason I can write such incredible, swoon-worthy heroes. Thank you for being a better grown up than me. I love you.

  To Stella, Scarlett, Stryker, Solo and Saxon. Thank you for delaying your summer fun so I could finish this book and for letting me leave every evening to find some quiet. You’re chaos and mayhem and crazy all at once and I love you more than anything else in this world. Thank you for letting me kiss you in public, for thinking our handshakes are the coolest thing ever and for always forgiving me when I forget birthday parties and doctors’ appointments. You’re my favorite. Each of you.

  To my mom, for being the strong, independent woman who raised a strong, independent woman. You taught me how to work hard and to sacrifice for family and the things that I want most. You taught me how to be resilient. You taught me how to be relentless. But most of all you taught me how to love recklessly. And thank you for the days you took the kids and made it possible to finish this book!

  To Katie, Tiffany and Sarah Jo, my prickle. Thank you for our hours of laughter and our commitment to friendship and for all the big plans we have for this small life. You girls are friendship I didn’t know was possible and I am so grateful for the grace and encouragement you give me daily. #squadlife forever and ever amen.

  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, the best beta reader on the planet and my all-time favorite Canadian! Thank you for dropping everything for me, for finding all the last little mistakes I would never see and for being such a kind, gracious, amazing human. You are my people. And I am so blessed to know you. Also, yay to being almost-on-time!!!

  To Amy Donnelly from Alchemy and Words, thank you so much for pushing me beyond where I’m comfortable, for demanding more from my words and characters and stories. Thank you for being an editor invested in your work, willing to sacrifice for your clients and for all around, being a truly upstanding woman. I fully acknowledge what a nightmare I am to work with, thank you for taking the job anyway.

  To Caedus Design Co, hey, another great cover! Good job. Thank you for never giving up on me when you ask me to describe the book and I don’t. Thank you for the endless teaser pictures and covers and all those times you make the business better and more efficient than I ever could. And thanks for putting up with all the people that ask if you’re the cover model for The Opposite of You. Have I told you lately that I love you?

  To the Rebel Panel, thank you for sticking around and sticking by me despite how entangled in life I am. Thank you for continuing to love my characters and read my stories and for never giving up on me. You ladies are a group of women I am proud and honored to be a part of. Thanks for being some of the best women I have ever had the pleasure to know!

  To the bloggers and reviewers, thank you for your time and energy and for investing in my words when I know you have a million other things to be doing. Thank you for taking time out of your life to write a review and post a teaser and support not just me, but all of the authors you work with. Your encouragement and kindness means the world to me. I am so blessed to be a part of this industry where you exist in such incredible ways.

  To the reader, thank you for taking a chance on me and on Wyatt and Kaya. Thank you for picking up one of my books or all of my books or some of my books and reading words that have come straight from my soul. Your time and support, your reviews and messages, are the fuel that keeps me going. You’re the best readers on the entire planet and I am beyond honored that you would pick one of my books, but especially this one.

  The Something about Her

  Book 4

  Copyright@ Rachel Higginson 2019

  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.
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  Copy Editing by Amy Donnelly of Alchemy and Words

  Cover Design by Zach Higginson

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  To Sam,

  My favorite Conversation Starter,

  So glad to call you a friend.

  Thanks for writing your number on the

  Back of a picture of your kids.

  You always know how to make the

  Best first impression.

  One

  When I was a little girl, I collected personalities. For me, becoming someone else was an art form and a secret challenge, like a competition with myself that I always won. The less I was myself, the easier it was to blend into the different social situations I was forced to experience.

  And the longer I lived, the more I realized most experiences were of the horrific and traumatic variety. Or at least the experiences that left the biggest mark. The longest scar.

  But I relied on those alternate personalities, my chameleon ability to blend in so seamlessly. That collection of personalities had saved me over and over again. It was the one constant thing I could rely on when I was a kid. And it had followed me into adulthood as I navigated the rough waters of living and working and struggling to breathe through everything.

  For my dad, I dressed up in princess gowns and greeted grown-ups with handshakes and tiny curtsies. I tolerated the late-night business meetings he dragged me to by pretending I loved to sit and stare at walls for hours. I smiled at his balding, middle-aged friends that had more money than was good for them and pretended their uninvited wandering hands on my butt didn’t bother me. I played the perfect daughter. While he played the negligent self-absorbed father.

  For my mom, I wore party dresses and high heels and laughed at all the bawdy jokes I didn’t understand. I played off her bad decisions and supported her unhealthy addiction to my dad. I skipped homework so we could hang out with her wild friends. I didn’t mention the school plays she forgot or the ballet recitals I had to skip because she wanted to drive to the beach for the weekend. I was the best friend in her life, not her child. And she loved me more than anything else on the planet. The feeling was mutual, even if the hard truth of our relationship was only remembered by me.

  At school, I got straight As and answered every question when called on. I was on student council and the senior class vice president. I tutored. I was the basketball team captain. Like every teenager, I stole my mom’s cheap liquor and my dad’s cash paid for all our shenanigans. I said yes to everything. Boys and parties and drugs. A life of endless fun and zero responsibilities. Even when I wanted to say no.

  And when I did say no, nobody listened. I had said yes too many times to be taken seriously. I played my party girl role too well.

  I played all my parts too well.

  Dillon Baptiste, the girl everyone liked because she was the girl no one knew.

  Not really.

  By the time I graduated high school, I’d lived a hundred different personalities for a thousand different people. And I hated who I pretended to be.

  Because they weren’t me.

  The worst part was, I didn’t even know who I was.

  Still don’t.

  Depression hit hard those first few years after school. I lacked direction because I didn’t have a purpose. And I didn’t have a purpose because I didn’t know what I wanted. And I didn’t know what I wanted because I had no idea who I was or how to even figure that out.

  And then my dad got sick.

  There wasn’t a therapist in the world who could have untangled the mess my mind became. My thoughts were overrun, watching a man I equal parts loved and hated, succumb to a disease he couldn’t pay to go away.

  Those were dark, dark years.

  Ezra had shown up because he cared about his father. Like a white knight in gleaming armor, he rode into our broken mess ready to fix everything—including me.

  Maybe especially me.

  Our dad was too sick for Ezra to help. But I wasn’t totally irredeemable. I, at least, had my health.

  And so he’d started the slow, arduous process of pulling me out of the black abyss I’d let myself fall into. I didn’t latch onto him like I had every other person in my life. I studied him. I learned from him. And eventually, I tried to become him.

  Not literally, of course.

  I liked his mannerisms. He was detached. So effortlessly aloof. He didn’t come from money, but he walked into my world like he was meant to be there. He looked down on everyone except me. He was intolerant of incompetence and bullshit and knew how to get what he wanted.

  More importantly, he knew what he wanted.

  I was enamored with this new older brother of mine that selflessly took care of other people without letting them touch him in return.

  I wanted his… armor.

  Ezra already had a life before he walked into mine. He loved food. It started with his friend Killian and their foster mom Jo—his small, trustworthy tribe, the only people he let in. And I experienced them at their most open and candid when they were creating and making good food.

  Later, Elena showed up. I had hated her from the beginning, but too afraid to push my new brother away, I had kept my mouth shut. When he married her, he’d disappeared for a while. They had a restaurant to open. They had a new life to start. There wasn’t room for a spoiled brat of a half-sister that was lost in grief and confusion and couldn’t name one thing she actually wanted for herself.

  I had parties to fall back on and a long list of contacts willing to help me forget what it was like to have someone care about me, someone who liked me because I was me.

  I picked up my cache of personalities and dove back into a dark, depressing world that would show me the real meaning of rock bottom. Glitz and glam and money and parties and all the other beautiful nothings that filled up those years of my life came with a price—a price I had to pay with my soul.

  I thought I was broken before… I had no clue. I thought I was wrecked and ruined and lost… I learned quickly that those words had sharp, lethal teeth and when aptly applied, sunk into flesh until they found bone. And then they did not let go. They left me bloody and broken and… alone.

  Eventually Ezra came back, only this time he brought cooking with him. Not just food and good meals, but the art of it. The business of it.

  And he saved me a second time.

  I’d stolen more of him then. Out of necessity this time. Out of the need to cushion my survival and paint a picture of my reality that was something other than the truth.

  I’d been desperate for purpose by this point. Greedy for anything that wouldn’t make me feel so… empty. So very wrong.

  Violated.

  When Ezra introduced me to cooking—real, heartfelt, blood and guts cooking—I absorbed everything he offered. It wasn’t mine to begin with, but somehow, surrounded by fire and heat and spice, I found myself.

  In the middle of a kitchen, covered in sweat and grease, I discovered who I was.

  It was the greatest gift Ezra could have ever given to me. It was a gift I couldn’t even explain to him without confessing the mismatched, messed up rest of me, and even then he would only ever see the surface. Of me. He would only ever see my mistakes. He would stop seeing the pretty sister he loved so dearly and find the ugly, distorted train wreck instead.

  I kept those puzzle pieces hidden, even while I let cooking refine my soul—even while the heat healed me and the fire fed life back into my battered body. And I adopted one last personality to soften all the other hard edges. I became the girl that pretended everything was always fine and fun and wonderful. I created a second skin that seemed normal. And I decided to wear it for the rest of my life.

  Ezra owned restaurants, so I got a culinary degree to work for him. It seemed consistent with this new personality. I knew it made logical sense
to him. I knew I would never be able to explain all the intricate reasons for falling in love with food, but I also knew I wouldn’t have to. I came from a food family. Food was my present. Food would always be my future.

  And most of the time, I loved working for my brother.

  But he’d gone too far this time.

  Way too fucking far.

  “This is too much,” I whispered, struggling to breathe through the panic. My made-up personality was already slipping, but I was too flabbergasted to care.

  My brother smiled at me from across the host stand of his most notorious restaurant, Bianca. “Happy birthday, Dillon.”

  “You’re not serious.” I whispered the words, hoping he would mistake them for surprise instead of the hissing viper I felt rising inside me. My birthday was two weeks ago. We’d already celebrated number twenty-seven. He’d given me a Joule sous vide for my apartment. This had to be a joke.

  His grin widened—a rare and unusual sight to see him so happy. “I am. Serious.”

  “Ezra, I can’t possibly—”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he rushed to say. “But you’re a perfect fit for this kitchen. And the staff here has been running the place on their own for over a year. They’re here to help you make the transition.”

  “I’m barely out of school. I haven’t even been at Lilou for two years yet.” The growly edge of my voice didn’t dissuade him at all. If anything, his eyes got that glint in them that told me he wasn’t going to back down. Not now. Not ever. I swallowed the lump in my throat put there by dread, frustration, and large amounts of fear. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about running this restaurant. I thought you wanted to save her? Not run her into the ground!”