Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  Ashlynn rolled her eyes. Blaze finally looked up, but it was to give his coworker a disgusted look.

  I cleared my throat for a second time. “I’m still familiarizing myself with Bianca’s menu,” I confessed, hoping that if I showed them some weakness, they would drop the Pitbull act. “I’ll rely on you two a lot over the next few weeks. I appreciate your cooperation and support.”

  There was a heavy beat of silence and then Blaze finally spoke. “Are you done?”

  My teeth clicked together at his lack of respect for me. Both of them should have addressed me as Chef. There should have been deference in their tones. There should have been reverence in their gazes.

  Instead, nothing but contempt and resentment looked back at me.

  I was in so far over my head. My hand reflexively wrapped around my throat as I struggled to breathe. Desperation to preserve whatever remained of my dignity around these people kicked in and I nodded as regally as possible. “You’re dismissed,” I told them.

  As soon as they turned away, I spun on my heel and bolted from the kitchen like it was on fire. Hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I refused to let my first day at my new job get to me.

  My cheeks flushed as shame and embarrassment crawled up my sternum and dug into my chest. God, what was I thinking? Why had I agreed to this? Why had I let Ezra talk me into this?

  A sour taste filled my mouth as I realized it hadn’t been Ezra that finally convinced me to say yes, it had been my irritation with Vann Delane. His obvious disbelief in me had kicked at my pride. And in a misguided attempt to prove him wrong, I’d given Ezra false hope that I could handle this job.

  If my first staff meeting was any indication of what I was capable of, I clearly couldn’t handle this job. Or the people that worked for me.

  I needed to cut my losses before it was too late. I could talk to Ezra before the rest of the staff got here. I wouldn’t even have to miss another shift at Lilou. No doubt, Wyatt would let me come back. Benny would be thrilled to give up sous chef responsibilities.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want this job anymore. I did. Or I thought I did. But eventually. Not today. Today I was just straight up not qualified for it.

  I wasn’t a boss. I wasn’t a badass. I wasn’t the savior Bianca needed.

  I would be the silver bullet that finally took her out for good.

  Ezra was sitting at a table beneath the eyes Molly had painted, clicking away at his computer. I appreciated the space he’d given me to familiarize myself with the kitchen by working out here instead of in his office. The big brother gesture immediately softened my panicking, overly-emotional heart and I was able to slow my pace from a sprint to a stumbling walk before he noticed me.

  He smiled when he saw my cautious approach. “Hey, I was just about to come find you. How’s everything going so far?”

  Horrible. Terrible. I want to quit. “Your sous chefs just showed up.”

  His brows furrowed together, but his proud grin stretched wider. “You mean your sous chefs just showed up.”

  Ugh, the pleased tone to his voice was like a donkey kick to the chest. “They’re intense, aren’t they?”

  His expression sobered some and he regarded me carefully as I took the seat across from him. “Maybe, but they’re also really good. You’ll appreciate how hard they work every night. You’ll like them once you get to know them.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, deciding on how to tell him that I didn’t want to get to know them. I didn’t even want to see how they cooked in the kitchen tonight. I just wanted to run away and never come back.

  But before I could say a word, Ezra let out a sigh filled with a hundred years of grief and pain and disappointment. “God, I wish our dad could see us.” The comment was so out of nowhere that I couldn’t control my facial spasm. He laughed at my utter shock. “We did it, Dillon. Don’t you see that? He didn’t think we’d be anything but spoiled trust fund babies. And yet here we are. We turned his money into successful careers. Doesn’t it make you so incredibly proud?”

  I tried to swallow around the jumbled “I quit!” sticking in my throat. “You turned your trust fund into a successful career. I’m, uh, still figuring my shit out.”

  His thousand-watt smile reappeared. “Dillon, come on! I know Bianca is struggling right now. But you’re the EC of a fucking five-star restaurant. Own that. Be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

  I swatted his compliment out of the air with a swoosh of my hand before it could land anywhere near me. “I’ve accomplished nepotism. I don’t have the reputation for this, Ezra. This isn’t mine to claim.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Stop looking at this like I did you some huge favor. You’re the one that’s bailing me out!”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “Seriously, woman. You don’t think I did my research? You think you only got this because you’re my sister. Give me some credit, I’m not a total moron.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I went to Killian. I asked him to evaluate you. I interrogated Wyatt and Kaya until they blocked my number. Hell, I cross-examined the entire kitchen at Lilou. I made Vera go on secret spy missions and test your skills. This wasn’t a whim, Dillon. This was a well-researched, high-level vetting process that you passed.”

  My procession line of excuses dropped to my stomach like a stone. I caught myself on the table, barely comprehending his words. “What?”

  He gave me that look, the one he’d been giving me my entire adult life. The one that said he knew better and I should just believe him because we both knew he was right and I was wrong.

  “You’re saving me, Dillon. Not the other way around.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “And just in the nick of time too.” Giving the dining room a furtive look, he cleared his voice and admitted, “Between the two of us, things have been getting bad enough here that I have been considering closing her doors.”

  I gasped for air, feeling the weight and pressure of exactly what he’d brought me in to do. “Are you serious?”

  “She’s hemorrhaging cash. I’ve had to dip into the other restaurants’ profits to keep her afloat. And the reviews that have been coming out about her lately have been bad. I’ve done what damage control I can. I’ve put off as many critics as possible. But I’m risking her reputation and the publics’ interest.” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I need you, Dillon. I know it’s not fair to ask so much from you. But it has to be you. Not just because you’re my sister, but because you’re the exact profile I need to rescue Bianca’s reputation. Fresh, new to the scene, up and coming. If anybody can save her, it’s you. I know it.” His smile was self-deprecating, apologetic, “I’m betting everything on you.”

  I tried to smile, but it fell flat. How could I walk away after a rousing speech like that? Plus, he’d brought Dad into it. If there was ever a challenge I loved to win, it was one where my asshole dad was involved.

  “Say something,” he pleaded, his eyes as scared and nervous as the first day I met him.

  “I was just thinking,” I started softly, struggling to put strength into my voice, “how Vera’s odd pregnancy cravings now make sense. She wasn’t craving deviled eggs with foie gras and lemongrass. Or candy stripe beets with stone-ground mustard aioli. She was testing me.”

  His head tipped back and the sound of his rich, full laugh was enough to bolster my courage—at least for tonight.

  “She’s kind of an evil genius, isn’t she?”

  “Totally.”

  “Want to go over the menu?”

  I nodded, not knowing what else to say. I couldn’t exactly walk out after all of that. I had to say, it was nice to hear that he actually believed in me and that I hadn’t gotten the job based on blood relation alone.

  Now if only I could believe in myself.

  Ezra and I spent the next hour going over the menu and the consistently top-selling dishes. He talked to me briefly a
bout his vision for future menus and invited me to share my opinions.

  By the time I walked back to the kitchen, my spirits were momentarily boosted thanks to his utterly genuine faith in me.

  But that was where my hope crashed and burned. Because behind those swinging in and out doors, the kitchen was practically mutinous. Blaze and Ashlynn had spread their bad attitude to the rest of the small staff.

  Or maybe they hadn’t needed to spread it. Maybe it came naturally to these people.

  Either way, it was the worst night I had ever spent in a kitchen. It was worse than my first night at Lilou. It was worse than my finals at school. It was worse than the first time I’d taken over for Wyatt and happened to have a period migraine and a blister on my heel the size of a fist.

  Nobody listened to me. I might as well have just kept my mouth shut the entire night, because it didn’t matter what I said or who I said it to. Orders came in and the kitchen filled them. Without acknowledging me. Without taking my suggestions. Without accepting my criticisms.

  By the end of the night I was so utterly defeated, I didn’t even bother to go over cleaning projects. I let them leave and did what I could myself.

  I stumbled into bed close to 3:00 a.m. and cried myself to sleep, still wearing my tank and white work pants. I promised myself tomorrow would be better, but not even my usually gullible heart could believe the lie.

  This was the hardest thing I would ever do.

  But I would do it for Ezra.

  Even if it killed my reputation.

  Even if he had to close the restaurant anyway.

  I couldn’t let him down. I couldn’t walk away. I wouldn’t let his dreams die because I was too afraid of some hard work.

  Six

  I parked Veronica in Lilou’s front lot and made sure she was locked before hurrying around to the side door. I pulled on the handle, expecting it to cooperate. It didn’t. I frowned at the time on my cellphone.

  Where was Wyatt?

  He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to solve all my problems. He was supposed to listen to them too. Admittedly, I was an hour earlier than usual open, but I had wanted to talk to him before I had to be at Bianca.

  I should have texted him to let him know I was stopping by. Argh. Why didn’t I text him?

  And why hadn’t I reached out to Kaya first? Or Vera? Or Killian?

  Oh, I knew that answer. I didn’t want them to give me false hope. They were my actual friends—which meant they wanted to see me succeed. And that made them awesome.

  But right now, I needed truth. And Wyatt was the most honest person I had ever met.

  Granted, his honesty was of the brutal variety. But I had girded my loins and readied my abused heart for this conversation.

  Also, after a full week of emotional, verbal and that one-time physical abuse when I’d gotten in the way of a service tray on its way out of the kitchen, I was pretty sure I could handle anything at this point.

  Wyatt’s open criticism might even feel wonderful right now. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  My attempts at taking complete control of Bianca had crashed and burned every single night. And not for lack of trying.

  I’d been firm. I’d been tough. I’d been a downright asshole. I’d been kind and sweet and gentle. I’d been professional. I’d been a raving lunatic. I’d even thrown in a night of being a complete basket case, hoping the rapidly switching back and forth between manic and sane would confuse them long enough to get them to listen.

  Nothing had worked.

  Just when I had started to make progress in some areas—for instance, I’d finally convinced the servers to let me inspect the dishes before they left the kitchen—another problem would come up. The dishwashers would take ridiculously long breaks and our dishes piled up until I had to serve dessert on dinner plates and appetizers on dessert plates to keep food moving out of the kitchen. Or when I’d finally convinced the cook in charge of risotto to let me show him my technique, the cook in charge of protein had decided to overcook every single thing.

  Ezra had forgotten to mention that I needed to order desserts every few days from our pastry chef. And not one member of the staff had offered the information when we’d started to run low. Consequently, we’d gone one entire night of service with only vanilla bean ice cream available.

  God, I was fucking this up so badly.

  I needed advice. Or a mentor. Or goddamn Mr. Miyagi.

  And the worst part, the very worst part, was how proud Ezra was of me. He texted me often to say it. He would stop in the kitchen during dinner service just to give me a smile and a thumbs up. He thought because I hadn’t burned the place to the ground yet, I was doing a phenomenal job.

  The truth was I was going prematurely gray and currently growing a boat-sized ulcer.

  Jogging to the front of the building, I tried those doors. They didn’t open. I jogged back to the side door and tried it again. Then I kicked it when it didn’t budge.

  Momentarily losing my mind, I grabbed the handle and violently tugged on it. It wouldn’t move, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

  “Just freaking open!” I shouted at it as I lost my grip completely and flew backwards, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to catch myself from landing on my ass.

  Bracing myself for impact, I lost my breath in surprise as strong hands managed to catch me around the waist before I bit it on the concrete.

  “Whoa,” a rumbly, masculine voice breathed into my ear, sounding as though he were settling a frightened horse. “Careful.”

  Vann.

  Vann Delane.

  Only upon hearing his whispered voice as it ran across my bare skin did it occur to me how completely crazy I had been acting. I managed to get my feet underneath me and stand up straight, pulling away from his saving grasp.

  I tugged my fitted white tee down at my waist where it had ridden up when he caught me. Putting on my most sophisticated air of professionalism, I turned around to face him. “Thank you,” I told him evenly.

  “Are you okay?” He was amused, like he couldn’t believe I was trying to pull this off without admitting my looney behavior.

  I glanced at the side door to Lilou again. God, what I wouldn’t give to get in there right now. I realized it wasn’t even about Wyatt anymore. I just wanted to be inside Lilou’s safe, familiar doors. I wanted to smell that kitchen again, stand inside her, run my fingers over the smooth stainless steel and be home again.

  Tears brimmed against my bottom lashes. I kept my attention on the door so Vann couldn’t see. “Not really,” I admitted, knowing it was futile to try to play this off. “I, uh, I need to talk to Wyatt.”

  “Is it an emergency?” Vann asked rationally. “I could call him for you.”

  “I have his number,” I snapped, brushing away a stray tear with the back of my hand. “I just… argh.” I cleared my throat. “To be honest, I’m kind of desperate to get inside Lilou. I’ve been working at Bianca all week and it’s been… difficult. I just wanted to be somewhere familiar.”

  “I thought you were a robber.”

  The laughter in his voice immediately dried up my tears. “What?”

  “I saw this crazed lunatic yanking on the doors from across the street and I honestly thought you were trying to break in. I ran over here ready to…”

  He had put his hand over his mouth and looked away, prompting me to ask, “Ready to what?”

  “Detain you,” he confessed on shaky breath. He was clearly trying not to lose it. “I was going to tackle you to the ground citizen’s arrest style and call the cops.”

  A laugh bubbled up inside me at the ridiculousness of this moment. My emotional instability got the best of me and I pictured Vann launching into a tackle to keep me from breaking the heavy metal door down with my bare fists and another laugh exploded out of me. “Oh, my god,” I gasped. “You must have thought I was a total psycho!”

  “Deranged homeless person to be exact.” His lau
ghter rumbled in the air, like thunder before a spring storm. “I was prepared to buy you a meal if you needed it. But I was definitely going to call the police.”

  I wiped away tears that were from laughter this time. “I am deranged. This is so embarrassing.”

  “I’m just glad I don’t have to wrestle a crazy person and call the cops at the same time. On the way over, I realized I should have called them first and then tried to stop the intruder.”

  Giving him an exasperated look, I said, “Thank God you didn’t! That’s all I need. The staff at Lilou arriving just in time to witness me getting shoved into the back of a squad car.”

  He snickered again, unable to stop himself. “And then your brother would have had to come bail you out.”

  We laughed hysterically all over again. I doubled over, barely making sound as I imagined explaining to Ezra that I wasn’t trying to break in, I just wanted to smell Lilou one last time. He would have had me committed for sure.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, remembering my beef with Vann and sobering some. “You were right. I’m not cut out for executive chef. Look what it’s done to me! Total strangers are having to tackle me in alleys to keep me from breaking and entering. Oh, my god, what am I even doing with my life?”

  “I’m not a total stranger,” he reminded me, sounding offended. There was a beat of silence where I didn’t know what to say after I’d blurted so much and he clearly didn’t know what to say in response to any of my issues. But then he asked, “So you took the job at Bianca?”

  I gestured at my white shirt and wide-leg pants, as if he would know the difference between Ezra’s restaurants and their uniforms. “Against my better judgment… yep. I did.” His gray eyes were intense this morning, lasering into me with that penetrating focus of his. I turned to stare at his shop across the street. “But I’m in way over my head. My brother thinks I can save his sinking ship, but I’m pretty confident I’m just drowning us faster.”