Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  And then there was Ezra. Obviously, I had been beyond thrilled for my brother to have found a woman that wasn’t the total worst. After his long list of crazy exes, I was so completely happy for him. And Molly was just the best. I couldn’t have asked for a better sister-in-law.

  But honestly, who would have guessed that Ezra would have found true love before me?

  Not me.

  Or him.

  Or anybody that knew us.

  Ezra had been the one to make all the obvious dating mistakes. I had been the one lucky enough to have only needed to make one mistake. If lucky meant tragically unlucky.

  Spotting losers was easy, when I said no to everyone.

  Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. I sometimes went on first dates. Er, or enough first dates that people assumed I was a dating machine.

  But, I had a strict catch and release policy, promising myself that as soon as I found a guy worth keeping around, I wouldn’t let him go. I would recognize a good thing when I found it.

  But lately, I’d been questioning my ability to recognize even half-decent men.

  Either my standards were significantly lowering or my options were drying up.

  I mean, even my mom had found true love.

  And now Wyatt and Kaya? It was too much.

  I was officially the third wheel. That didn’t mean I would stop tossing back the fish the second I’d gotten a free meal and a couple of drinks out of them.

  Watching Wyatt talk to my best friend with a big, stupid grin on his face killed whatever good mood the night had put me in. Bringing the expensive champagne to my lips, I tipped my head back and finished the glass.

  “I think I’m going to get going.” I faked a yawn until it turned into a real one. “I’m beat.”

  Benny was staring into his champagne glass like it was a crystal ball with hidden answers to all his life questions. “Oh, yeah? I guess this is goodbye then.”

  His sarcastic comment pulled a smile from me. “Don’t be so fatalistic, Benjamin. We’ll see each other again.”

  He made a face that made me realize how little we would see each other from now on. Another pang of sorrow punched through me.

  “Oh, hey.” He snapped his fingers at me. “A buddy of mine saw a picture of us from the other week, when we went out for your birthday. He asked if you were single and if he could get your number.”

  My sad feelings were immediately replaced with a confusing mix of piqued curiosity and crippling dread. “Uh… what’s he like?”

  “My friend?”

  “The guy that wants my number. Is he awful?”

  He gave me a look that said he didn’t have awful friends. But what did he know anyway? Guys were nose-blind to their buddies. “He’s good people, Dillon. I think you’d like him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Matt.” When it was clear I was waiting for more, he added. “Matt Brennan.”

  I filed away the information so I could stalk him online later. “What does Matt Brennan do for a living?”

  “He’s a pastry chef. I’ve known him since school. He works at Fifi’s.”

  I pursed my lips together. It wasn’t that I disliked pastry chefs as a whole… I just didn’t like that they thought we did the same thing. They worked in quiet kitchens under zero pressure. At least, compared to our kind of pressure. Sure, they had standards of perfection too. But it was not the same.

  Still, Matt Brennan was a good name. And I had just been mourning my single status seconds ago.

  Plus, it had been a long time since I’d been on a date. And I preferred everything to be fine. And normal. And for people to see that I was making an effort at the whole dating thing.

  Even if I wasn’t.

  “Is he cocky?”

  He rolled his eyes at my question. “He’s cool, Baptiste. It’s just a text. You don’t have to answer it.”

  “What I’m hearing is that you don’t want to let him down.”

  He made a face at getting called out. “He thought you were hot! Take the compliment.”

  Was it a compliment? Or was Matt Brennan just desperate to find a girl outside of his usual stock pond? Stalking your friend’s Facebook account for pictures of women you hadn’t met before felt desperate to me. And weird. Still, I heard myself say, “Okay, fine. You can give him my number.”

  He made a gleeful sound. “Aw, you’re going to make him so happy. You can thank me for the love connection later.”

  I set the champagne glass down, deciding this was Wyatt and Benny’s kitchen now, they could deal with the dirty dishes. Without giving a formal goodbye to my former coworker and boss, I made my way toward the back exit, waving at Benny and Wyatt as I went.

  For all my warm fuzzies for this kitchen, I found myself leaving it way faster than I had planned. I thought I would savor the walk out, take in the gleaming glory one more time. By the time I stepped into the night air, I was shocked that it was over—that my time at Lilou had come to a close.

  I breathed in the balmy night air and shed my chef jacket before I started sweating. My car was in the employee lot not far from here, but I realized too late that I’d walked out alone.

  I usually waited for Wyatt or Benny to walk me to my car.

  The lot was well lit and my car was parked under a streetlight, but I still didn’t like being out here alone. Fear skittered over my bare arms, sending chills down my spine. I hurried to my car, Lilou fading into the background as I hunted for my car keys. Which was when I realized that I’d left one of the overhead lights on accidentally. It was barely flickering in the dark night, a telltale sign it was just about out of juice.

  I didn’t even remember clicking the light on. But the evidence that I had at some point today was right in front of me. Damn.

  My baby, er car, was ridiculously fast and breathlessly beautiful. She was my absolute pride and joy. Ezra thought he was hot stuff because of his sleek Alfa Romeo, but we both knew mine was the superior automotive vehicle.

  His was the economy version of fast. Mine was the real deal.

  I mean, Ezra’s Alfa was fine. It ticked a lot of boxes for a lot of people. But mine was hands down just better in every way.

  Faster.

  Nicer.

  Prettier.

  Pricier.

  The total package.

  Porsche 911, candy apple red. Hard top, of course, because I wasn’t a total douche. And perfect in absolutely every way.

  But now she wasn’t going to start because I’d stupidly left the lights on.

  You’d think, after all the bells and whistles she’d come with, she’d also be equipped with a tiny robot that turned off lights when their driver happened to forget.

  The car automatically unlocked as I got closer. I slid into the driver’s seat and wrapped my hands around the leather steering wheel. I switched on the ignition and waited for the revving purr of the engine rumbling to life.

  She groaned. She sputtered. She made a sound that in a human would have been considered a hacking cough. I stopped trying to get her to do what I knew she couldn’t right now.

  Damn. I turned back to Lilou, knowing Wyatt and Benny would help me. The parking lot was really dark though. And I didn’t love the idea of walking back to the restaurant alone.

  It wasn’t that far, my rational mind reasoned.

  But far enough, my past hissed into the quiet solitude of the car.

  I found that I didn’t want to leave the safety of my driver’s seat though. I preferred the silence here. The loneliness. The isolation.

  Dropping my forehead on the steering wheel, I attempted to start her again. She went through the whole dramatic inability to start all over again.

  “You don’t want to leave either,” I murmured, finding tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “I don’t blame you. I liked it here too.” Tears wet my cheeks and I had to sniffle quickly to keep snot from dripping over my lips. “But I’m sure we’ll like the next place too. Maybe. Eventually…
If they don’t fire us first.”

  I sucked in a shaky breath, readying to let out a full-blown sob when a knock at my driver’s side window had me jumping out of my seat and screaming at the top of my lungs.

  When I gathered my wits and enough courage to identify the intruder, I saw that it was Vera’s brother standing outside.

  Vann Delane.

  Not a serial killer. Not a rapist. Not a mugger.

  Just Vann Delane.

  Quickly wiping at my soggy cheeks with the backs of my hands, I tried the automatic window button first before I remembered the whole car was dead. Pushing open the door, I leaned my head out and faced him. “Yes?”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I thought I heard a cat in significant need of assistance. And found your car instead.”

  I pursed my lips together, wondering if he realized the insult he’d just delivered or if it was a total accident.

  My Porsche 911 was not a kitten.

  Nor did she sound like one.

  She was a regal lioness and she could bite your head off if I let her.

  Deciding he was just obtuse and not intentionally rude, I said, “My battery died. Apparently, I left the overhead light on all day.”

  Vann stepped back and glanced across the parking lot toward his bicycle shop, Cycle Life. “Bummer.”

  Letting out a trembling breath, I looked down at my hands and shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll get Wyatt or Benny to jump me.”

  “Are they still here?” he asked, nodding toward Lilou.

  “Yeah, we just closed down.” That comment sparked a thought and I found myself planting one leg on the pavement and leaning further outside so I could get a look at him. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think your shop kept evening hours.”

  His brows furrowed at my observation. “Uh, I don’t usually. I forgot my laptop earlier.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep,” he added, filling in the obvious blanks in his story. “So, I thought I would work. But then my computer was here… Anyway, once I’d come all the way here, I decided to do some things in the shop.”

  I glanced down at his outfit as I disentangled myself from the curved bucket seat and stood. He had on a gray hoodie over a plain white V-neck t-shirt and gray and white plaid pajama pants. He looked like a Gap ad.

  His pajamas fit his preppy style in every way. It was strange to seem him like this though. Flip-flops on his feet, his long toes peeking out beneath tattered hems. Admittedly, I didn’t know him that well, but I’d seen him enough times that I knew this wasn’t a side of him that many people knew—unkempt, undressed, unpolished.

  It made me feel… intrusive. Like I’d walked in on a private moment. But he was the one that had come out to check on me.

  “Gotcha,” I murmured. “Anyway, uh, thanks for checking on me.”

  His eyes drifted over my wide-leg black pants and tight black tee. I brushed hair out of my face, nervous beneath his perusal. I couldn’t imagine why though. This was what I wore to work every day—unless the wide leg trousers were replaced with velvety leggings. What I was wearing made sense—unlike Mr. Bananas in pajamas over there.

  “I could jump you,” he blurted, as if he hadn’t meant to. “I mean, if that’s all you need.”

  I blinked at him, taking in his stubbled jaw and his perfectly arched cheekbones. A Gap ad would be lucky to get this guy. He had all of Vera’s beauty but the masculine version of it. “Um, how?”

  It was his turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

  “How will you jump me?”

  He looked back at his shop and I got the distinct impression he wished he was back there—away from me. “With my car?” His offer sounded like a question. He turned back to face me, punching me in the gut with the judgment burning his gray eyes. “Unless this thing isn’t like normal cars? Maybe you need a spaceship to jump it? Moon juice or something.”

  “Moon juice?” I hid a smile behind my palm. “Uh, sure. No spaceship required. I’d be grateful for a jump.” I rested my hand against my throat and willed him to ignore the dirty joke hanging in the air between us.

  Maybe I’d been hanging out with Kaya too much, but I expected him to shout, “That’s what she said!” at the top of his lungs.

  “Uh, okay. Sure. Let me just go…” he nodded his head toward the parking lot across the street, apparently too mature for easy humor. “I’ll be right back.”

  “O-okay.”

  I watched him cross the street without using the crosswalk. At this time of night there wasn’t anyone around, so he just jogged right through the middle of downtown. It was a strange feeling observing a person break the law who I distinctly got the feeling never broke the law.

  The side door of Lilou opened and shut and Benny and Wyatt walked into the parking lot, laughing and cracking jokes about Wyatt being Benny’s boss. They noticed me immediately, but I explained that Vann planned to jump me.

  “I bet he did,” Benny teased.

  There it was. Maybe it wasn’t Kaya. Maybe it was working in a kitchen—we were all perverted deviants.

  Purposefully ignoring his full meaning, I ran a hand over the top of Veronica and said, “Who could blame him? A chance to get down and dirty with this beauty doesn’t come around very often.”

  Benny laughed while Wyatt texted Kaya, telling her he wanted to wait for my car to get going. “Yeah, yeah, moneybags. We get it. You have a cool car.”

  I glanced at Benny’s souped-up Nissan and wrinkled my nose. “Psht. You’re one to talk.”

  He stuck his tongue out at me, then moved out of the way so Vann could pull his Jeep next to mine. The three of us gaped at him as he jumped down from the cab.

  “What?” he asked, noticing our open mouths.

  “Nothing,” Wyatt answered quickly. “I guess I just thought you drove something like a Prius.”

  “I thought you rode a bike,” I blurted.

  He looked at the three of us, shrugging one shoulder. “Nope. I have a real car.” The irritation in his voice rang through the night air. “It’s kind of hard to ride a bike to work in the winter. Also, I’m normal. Every chef I know thinks I go home to a treehouse in the middle of the woods and live off the land. But the truth is, I’m a normal guy. I live in an apartment. I eat sugary cereal and I drive a car.”

  Sugary cereal? How did that prove he was normal?

  “I’m going to get going,” Benny said interrupting the awkward short silence. He saluted us before running off like a coward.

  Wyatt glanced at his phone. I knew he wanted to get to Kaya, which only endeared him to me more. But I needed backup here. I couldn’t be left alone with Vann Delane and his crusade to prove how normal he was to everyone.

  My mouth didn’t get the message apparently and I heard myself offer, “If you need to get going, Wyatt… you can.”

  He looked up from his phone and said, “Yeah?”

  “Sure, I think we have this covered?” I looked to Vann who nodded in response.

  “Can you pop your hood?”

  Was that a yes to my question? I looked back to Wyatt. “Worst case scenario, I’ll call a tow truck and uber home. I’m not far.” Wyatt started to protest and care for my friend overcame the concern for myself. “Go, seriously! I’ll be fine.”

  He glanced nervously at Vann. “All right, but only if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “The hood?” Vann asked, his irritation back loud and clear.

  I waved Wyatt off. “We’ll talk later. I’ll have questions I’m sure.”

  Wyatt said his goodbyes, but I barely heard them as I leaned inside my car and pulled the trunk lever. To Vann, I said, “The battery is in the trunk.” The trunk opened with ease and I heard Vann’s sharp intake of breath.

  Nervous something was seriously wrong, I hurried to where he stood surveying the clever casing. “Is something wrong?”

  He looked up at me, awe glinting in his gray eyes. “You drive a nic
e car.”

  His compliment nearly knocked me off my feet. I mean, it was a good engine. He was right in saying that. It was just strange to hear him admit something positive. “You like cars?” I guessed, surprised again.

  “I grew up working on cars with my dad,” he explained. Leaning forward to clamp the jumper cables in place, he continued, “He worked a lot, so it was pretty much the only thing we ever did together. It’s still one of our favorite things.”

  I turned and looked at his Jeep again. It was an older version, one that the entire top came off. It looked like it had fresh paint though. And new wheels. In fact, the whole thing gleamed in grayish blue.

  “It’s a 1959,” he explained, catching my ogling. “I just finished restoring her.”

  Her. He’d called his car a her. Something so simple shouldn’t have made me like him more, but it did for some silly reason.

  “I’m impressed,” I told him. “I figured you preferred two wheels to four.”

  He looked up at me from between our two cars, a befuddled look on his face. “Just because you cook for a living, does that mean you want to cook for every meal? Or do you sometimes go out to eat? Maybe even to restaurants that don’t carry your specialty?”

  “All right, I get your point,” I conceded. “I don’t always want to cook.”

  “I love my bikes,” he added. “But riding one to work at one in the morning seemed exhausting.” I smiled unexpectedly and stared at him, working on a witty comeback. “Do you mind starting mine?” He tossed his car keys at me before I could decline.

  Catching them reflexively, I followed his bidding. We awkwardly stood there until we thought Veronica had gotten enough juice to get going. After another ten minutes, we’d gotten her juiced to the point that I felt confident enough to go our separate ways.

  I stepped out of my car after coaxing her to life. Vann rolled down his window, but didn’t step out of his car. It wasn’t like I expected him to come around and give me a hug or anything, I just hated feeling like I was this big inconvenience to him.

  I stepped up on the footboard and rested my elbows on his window frame. “Hey, thanks for your help.”

  His smile was the biggest I’d seen tonight. “I should have known you drove something like this.”