“I used to be wild,” I told them in an obvious sort of way. “I know that surprises all of you, but I lived out my college years… well, like I was in college. I drank too much. I partied too much. I did a lot of things that were too much. But I’m better now. I grew out of it. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”
It was clear that Ezra didn’t fully believe my quick attitude change and pacifying smile, but after the hell I’d put him through during my early-twenties, I knew he might never truly trust that I was all the way okay ever again.
And he didn’t even know the worst of it.
Kaya waved me off. “I had no idea you liked to drink. I guess we can finally be best friends. I was waiting for you to become a borderline alcoholic. And now I have the final piece of the puzzle.”
I smiled at her candidness, feeling marginally better.
Molly laughed too and said, “The first time I ever met Dillon, she told me ‘parties were like her thing.’ It’s important to know your strengths.”
I smiled a little wider, but the pressure in my chest was still suffocating. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck and I felt unwanted hands crawl up my legs.
“I’m going to go,” I nearly shouted, desperate for some peace and quiet. “Thanks for brunch, Molls. I’ll, uh, call you later.” I took three steps backward. “You too, Kaya. Bye, Wyatt. Ezra.” I reluctantly looked at the big old elephant in the room and briefly met his eyes before grabbing my purse off a stool and pretending to search for my keys. “Vann. Bye, everyone.”
I escaped their calls of goodbye and practically sprinted from the building. I wasn’t usually this jumpy when someone brought up my past, but the combined presence of Ezra and Vann made shit too real for ten a.m.
“Dillon!”
Apparently, my quick exit, Wile E. Coyote style, wasn’t enough of a message for Vann. I glanced over my shoulder to find him chasing after me. And damn, his eyebrows were scrunched together. He had something to say too.
I waved at him, my keys gripped tightly in my hands. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I need to get to work. We haven’t switched over to brunch yet, so I have a lot of prep that still has to happen.”
He jogged faster. “Hey, stop for a minute.”
My door unlocked and if I wouldn’t have hesitated like a fool, I could have totally thrown my body across the driver’s seat and locked the doors before he caught up to me.
But he was running. In that t-shirt and sweatpants. And damn it, I got distracted.
His fingers wrapped around the top of my doorframe, holding it open. “Hey, would you slow down?”
I shook my head. No. No, I would not. “I really have to go.”
“So, you’re like a runner?”
I blinked at him, trying to make sense of his words. “Usually, I’m a yoga-er. But I’ve been looking to get a little more in shape. Hence the spin class.”
He smiled. It was blinding in the morning light. Breathtaking. Nerve-racking. Life changing. “That’s not what I meant. You run. You have one-night stands because you don’t want commitment.”
I frowned. He was not going to figure me out this morning. Especially when he was only working with partial information. Not after the shit he’d just put me through upstairs. “No, I don’t have time for commitment. I work every night. And all day. And basically, all of the minutes of my life. I have time for one-night stands.” Those violent hands started to inch up over my bare legs again. I kicked one foot out, shaking my leg just to get the haunting sensation to stop. “And I just don’t… I don’t have one-night stands either. Like ever.” Remembering Ezra’s tell-all novel upstairs, I was forced to amend. “Anymore anyway. Once upon a time maybe, but that stopped.”
“Six years ago?”
“Excuse me?”
His look gentled, but his smile warmed, and I hated that it made me want to open up to him. Nobody should have that kind of power in a smile. “Listen, I feel like I misjudged you.”
“You’ve actually misjudged me since you met me.”
He ignored my snark. “And I’d like to start over. Or try again. Or… I don’t know what I want to do. But I feel bad for what just happened.”
He felt sorry for me is what he meant. “I grew up, Vann. That’s all that happened. I lived this kind of wild, party girl life and then I woke up one day and I realized I couldn’t keep living my life like that. I couldn’t keep… going with zero responsibility and zero commitment and zero anything to live for. I needed goals and a purpose and…” I ran a hand over my hair, trying to smooth it down as the wind ruffled it. “My dad had just died. I didn’t know how to cope. And my mom was a mess. And I never had any boundaries growing up. So I just… I did things I’m not proud of. But that phase of my life is over now. And even if Ezra doesn’t believe me, I’ve spent the last six years trying to prove it to him.”
His smile disappeared. Along with that warm and melty look in his eyes. Now he just looked concerned. Damn, I really messed this up.
“Sounds like there was a lot going on,” he noted.
“There was,” I agreed, unable to meet his eyes. “A lot going on.”
His hand shot out and grabbed mine, holding it gently in his. He bent his knees so that we were eye level. His gentle grasp and the thumb rubbing over my knuckles coaxed me to look at him. “I’m sorry you had to go through a rough time, Dillon. I’m sorrier you thought you had to cope that way.”
I found that I couldn’t swallow. Or retract my hand. Or do anything but sway closer to him. “I-it-it’s not your fault. I didn’t even know you then.”
He held my gaze. “Regardless. I’m sorry life was so awful for you. I’m sorry your dad died. I’m sorry that you felt the only way to fix any of it was to drink or party or whatever. I’m sorry for all of it.”
What I really wanted to do was throw my arms around him and cry into his neck. I wanted him to hold me for the next seven years while my heart healed and my mind unfragmented and all the memories of that lifestyle died.
Instead of acknowledging his kindness or how much his words had affected me, I took a step back and tossed my purse to the passenger side. “I need to go.”
“Runner,” he whispered, and I knew he was smiling before I even looked at him.
“So what if I am?” I asked, finally understanding what he meant.
He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking too adorable for his own good. “I’m just glad to know it’s not my skills in bed.”
I leaned back toward him, relishing the flirty space we’d found again. “It might be though. You don’t really know, do you?”
His smile died and his signature frown took its place. “No, I guess I don’t.”
I stepped back, getting as close to the car as possible. “I’m saying… Maybe you shouldn’t say no to free advice.”
His concerned gaze turned into a very serious frown. “Are you saying you remember?”
I shook my head, not wanting to admit that it didn’t matter if I did. He’d broken my celibacy streak but that didn’t mean I was ready to make it a regular thing. “Sorry.” I shrugged and inched closer to my car. “Good thing you’re not looking for a nice girl.”
He followed me, leaning into the car door—the only thing between us. “You’re not a nice girl, Dillon.”
That shiver was back, rolling down my spine and bringing heat with it. “That’s not what you said before.”
“I was wrong.”
I sucked in a deep breath and dropped to my driver’s seat, afraid of what would happen if we kept talking. “Bye, Vann.”
“Bye, Dillon.”
I drove away from Ezra’s apartment feeling completely unsettled. My emotions warred inside my chest. And in my head.
This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t playing fair.
He’d told me I was a nice girl and he wasn’t interested in nice girls. He’d said that. Not me.
So, when I dropped my guard, it was under that assumption—that he wasn’t interested in
me. And now what was he saying? That he did like me?
My hands tightened around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “I like him too,” I told the empty car.
Duh.
Sometimes I had to say the most obvious things out loud before I believed them. But the truth was, I liked Vann. I really liked him.
But so, what? I’d had crushes since… since I stopped dating. They’d never pursued me like this though. They’d never gotten me to sleep with them.
They’d never crawled so completely beneath my skin all I could think about was them.
Was it worth trying something with Vann?
What if I just… went for it?
I used to be spontaneous. I used to be wild and reckless and devil-may-care.
And it had gotten me into trouble. When I’d walked away from that lifestyle, I promised myself I would never do anything haphazardly again. I would never jump into something without gauging how deep the water was. I would never walk out on a limb without knowing if it could hold me. I would never just act and hope it worked out.
Never again.
Bianca was the closest thing I’d done in the last six years to an uncalculated risk, but I’d been weighing my options for almost the same amount of time. Even if the final decision was sort of thrust on me, it had been an internal conversation for years.
And what about Vann? Surely I didn’t need another six years to decide if I wanted to take a chance on him or not.
He was a risk—the biggest kind.
But was he worth it?
My mind said no. My mind remembered the consequences from my life before. My mind knew how badly men could hurt, how easily they could destroy.
My heart argued a different story.
There was just something about him that I wanted more of. I couldn’t help it. Vann Delane was different. And I wanted to get to know everything about him.
Including what he was really like in bed.
Eighteen
Vann was everywhere after that. Or maybe I hadn’t noticed him before. Maybe he’d been in my life for a while, but I’d been so focused on surviving that I hadn’t paid attention to him.
Regardless, he was here now.
When Vera and Killian got back from their honeymoon, he was at the airport to greet them. When I joined Molly for spin class three mornings a week, he was there. When I went to the organic grocery store near my house, he was there. Picking up more oranges.
And the worst part? It was impossible to ignore the man. Not when he looked so adorably happy to see his sister. Or so deliciously sweaty after an hour of medieval-leg-and-butt-torture. And especially not when he carefully picked out his oranges, bringing each one to his nose and smelling them to make sure he was getting a good one.
Trust me, I tried to ignore him. And pretend I didn’t see him. But it was impossible. He was everywhere.
But most especially he was in my bones, in my very blood.
Because even when I didn’t see him, I thought about him.
I thought about him in the morning, when I woke up way earlier than I wanted to. I thought about him during prep, when I would have to get tough with an employee or make a hard decision. I thought about him when I went home to a lonely bed and empty apartment. I thought about him when I got a hit on my online dating app that Kaya had set me up with a year ago and I never used, and it wasn’t him.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
The only time I managed to think about anything else was when I was planning the dishes for our soon-to-open brunch menu. Then, and only then, could I wrap my head around grilled asparagus wrapped in paper thin slices of heirloom tomatoes and rich prosciutto. He couldn’t infiltrate my poached egg in sourdough with sriracha hollandaise and everything bagel seasoning. Nor could he come close to my version of a croque madame with grapefruit jelly, crispy pork belly, creamy comté, and an over easy egg on brioche.
Casual French food was the only thing saving my life right now. Both personally and professionally.
I glanced at Cycle Life as I crossed the street in front of it. Lilou was currently having some work done to the parking lot, so I’d been forced to park my car closer to Vann’s shop than the restaurant I needed to borrow lettuce from.
All romaine lettuce was currently confiscated as nationwide outbreaks of E. Coli rocked the food industry. People were getting sick like crazy and all romaine had gone through an emergency recall.
Since we’d quickly thrown all our lettuce away, I was currently on the hunt for substitutes. Thankfully, due to a clerical error and Wyatt’s hunt for a better sous chef than Benny who made the clerical error, they had ordered an obscene amount of butter lettuce. Which he graciously offered to share with me at the low, low price of my eternal soul.
When I had refused to sell my non-physical body parts to him, he’d said, “Okay, then just come back and be my sous chef again so I’m not stuck with so much fucking butter lettuce. I’m contemplating lighting it all on fire.”
When I’d said, “That much, huh?”
He’d replied with a casual, “Maybe I’ll light Benny on fire instead.”
Which led me to rushing over in hopes that I could take some of the dreaded butter lettuce off Wyatt’s hands and save Benny from being burned at the stake.
I was also checking out Cycle Life to see if Vann was anywhere to be seen, while keeping a low profile and working the totally aloof angle.
Basically, I was looking anywhere but where I was going. And that was a tragedy. Because one second, I was playing the role of super spy while I walked casually down the sidewalk in Louboutin Mary Janes I would never usually wear to work and a sun dress that flared in all the best spots. And the next second, my arms flew wildly in the air as I totally biffed it.
I was pretty sure I screamed too.
Because one could not fall the way I just had, my dress going up over my head, my knees meeting the pavement with a hard thwack and my palms following shortly after, without screaming bloody murder.
This was Molly’s fault. Because of my crazy schedule, we’d met for breakfast to go over our marketing plan. And then news of the romaine had come in the form of a panicked text from Blaze, causing me to swing into Bianca instead of going home to change first. Now I was at Lilou—well, almost to Lilou—and my timeline was shrinking.
And I twisted my ankle.
Damn, that hurt!
I gingerly picked myself up from my sprawled position and attempted to untangle my ankle. It didn’t budge.
“What the hell?”
Attempt number two of standing up, didn’t go any better. I looked back to see the stupidly pointy heel of my shoe trapped in a cut out on the manhole cover I’d just walked over.
Pulling my leg harder proved futile. I was well and truly stuck.
I would have to unstrap my shoe to get it out. But I’d have to stand up to do that. Argh! This was what I got for dressing up before work.
If I didn’t get this butter lettuce situation taken care of soon, I was going to have to cook in these bad boys.
Which might have been fine, if they weren’t currently pissing me the hell off!
“Son of a bitch,” I hissed at the ground as I slowly pulled myself to standing on my free foot. “Son of a bitch!” I snarled, when I started to tip over again.
What was with this manhole cover? And how had I found the one hole to stick my shoe into on the entire city block?
“Dillon?”
Slamming my eyes shut, I turned away from the voice that belonged to the man jogging my way. This was not the way I wanted to capture his attention. Or anyone’s attention.
There was only one way to play this—like I wasn’t totally trapped in the manhole. Where was my I’m fine personality that everyone knew and loved?
“H-hey, Vann.”
He was in front of me a second later. “Are you okay? I saw you fall.”
My cheeks burned red. Of course, he had.
“I-I’m fi
ne.”
He gave me a look, showing that he didn’t believe me. Not even a little bit. And he was right. My palms and knees burned and by the trickling liquid feel running down my leg, I had an awful suspicion I was bleeding. Plus, there was my shoe—still stuck.
He took a step back, his eyes roaming over my body, finally landing on my stupid, expensive shoe. “Are you stuck?”
I casually tried to twist the heel out. Maybe if I relaxed, the hole would loosen its grip.
Nope.
If anything, I managed to make it more stuck.
“A little,” I confessed.
Vann’s lips twitched with the urge to laugh. “Can I help?”
A frustrated sigh escaped my lips before I could temper it. “Sure. I guess.”
That look was there—the one that called me on my bullshit. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he dropped to his knees, his warm hands wrapping around my calf and ankle.
My core clenched as warmth spread where his hands moved over me. I cleared my throat, hoping he didn’t notice how his touch was making me react.
He tugged on my leg and my ego was somewhat soothed when it didn’t immediately release. His hand moved up to the back of my thigh, the other one sliding down toward my ankle. I held my breath, trying to ignore the contrast of his gentle touch and rough, calloused palms.
He looked up at me and smiled. “It’s really stuck.”
I blinked at him, taking in the way the sun caressed his dark hair, and sharp angles of his face. I wanted to reach down and brush my fingers over his cheekbone. “I’m aware,” I said instead.
“Hold on to me.”
“What?”
“I’m going to tug it out, but I don’t want you to lose your balance again. So, hold onto me.”
“O-okay.”
I did as he commanded, resting my hands on the tops of his broad shoulders. He did some magic with my shoe and leveraging my leg and this time when he tugged, my heel popped free.
The momentum of it propelled me forward, despite my loose grasp on Vann and I started to flail again. He managed to catch me by grabbing a tighter hold on the backs of my thighs and steadying me.
And there we stood for several long moments. Me standing above him, my hands now gripping his muscular shoulders. Him, on his knees, his arms hidden beneath the skirt of my dress, his hands clutching the backs of my thighs, just below my bum.
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 113
