The Something about Her: Opposites Attract book four

by Higginson, Rachel

  Every chef had their own, unique way of dealing with stress. I’d seen Wyatt smash plates and dump just-shy-of-perfect filets in the trash. Most chefs I knew of subscribed to the might is right philosophy. To be fair, we were passionate creatures on a schedule.

  And while it was easy to get irritated and scream at all the people that should be working as hard and perfectly as you, it was also dumb. I wasn’t a yeller by nature. I certainly wasn’t going to start yelling now just because I got a promotion.

  And today, I was in a particularly good mood now that Blaze was staying, and brunch was going so well. That didn’t mean I would continue to send out subpar plates.

  People paused what they were doing and looked over at me. When I was sure I had the attention of the room, I cleared my throat and said, “I appreciate what you all have done here. The change in schedule. The change in vision. The change in leadership. Y’all have managed to weather me like champs. And a part of me wishes that I could stop asking you to do impossible things. A part of me would love to tell you we’re just going to coast from here on out. That what you’re doing right now is good enough. That who you are right now is good enough. But it’s not. And you’re not. And I will never, ever settle for good enough.” They were staring at me. Not smiling or scowling or showing a single emotion with their faces. They were just staring at me and I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or if they were ten seconds from staging a walkout. “I have audacious dreams for this place. I have giant, larger than life aspirations for this kitchen. I have huge, career-changing goals for all of you. And if you stick with me and help bring this vision to life, I know you’ll be proud of your work and your career. It’s not going to be easy. To be honest, it’s going to be hell most days. But that doesn’t mean it won’t also be good and worthy and the best fucking ride of your entire life.” A chef named Bryan smiled from the back and I found courage in that one encouraging expression to push on. “So, stop sending out wrong dishes. Stop doing half-assed work. Stop assuming that what you’re doing is good enough. Because it’s not. It’s time to strive for utter perfection. Let’s be better than the competition. Let’s be better than we are right now.” I paused for dramatic effect, and to catch my breath. I could hardly believe I was the person demanding excellence from my kitchen like this. I had never considered myself a leader before, never even wanted to be one. But here I was, rallying the troops and digging deep to inspire excellence. “Let’s be the best we’ve ever been!”

  A cheer rose up around me, men and a few women clapping, a few of them drying their eyes. I felt like a general, inspiring my troops to win the war.

  I nodded, once—a proud, proficient chin bob—and the kitchen burst to life again as my chefs poured over their work and did the best they could possibly do.

  Adrenaline coursed through my veins, my blood bubbling with the rush of victory. For the first time since I’d stepped inside Bianca as executive chef, she felt like mine. And I finally felt up to the task of running her.

  What I’d said to my staff applied to me as well. I needed to get better. Be better. Do better. Always. I could never sit back on my haunches and coast. If I was going to do this well, then I would have to try hard at it every single day.

  I took a steadying breath, accepting the challenge.

  Okay, Bianca. I’m all the way in this.

  “Chef?” a nervous server wrung her hands in front of me.

  Oh great. What now? “There’s a table out front demanding to speak with you.”

  Nerves plunged my stomach to my toes. This was never a good sign. And right after I’d given the speech of my lifetime no less. To the server, I went about looking busy and asked, “Did they say what it was about?”

  She shook her head. “No, just that they needed to speak with you about what you were doing back here.”

  To Blaze, I said, “You got this?”

  He nodded. No problem. He was my second in command. For real now. Of course, he could handle this.

  I wiped my hands on my apron and followed her from the kitchen. Bianca’s dining room wasn’t especially large, and it was totally open so I spotted the demanding table immediately.

  I tapped the server on the shoulder and pointed toward it. “Is that it?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Okay, I got this. Thanks, Chrissy.” I marched past her toward the rowdy patrons at least two cocktails deep. “What is going on here?”

  Molly grinned at me, waving her Breakfast 75. “We’re supporting you!”

  I smiled at my friends. They’d taken up the largest booth in the restaurant, a circular monstrosity that barely held them all. Molly and Ezra. Vera and Killian. Kaya and Wyatt. Vann.

  Butterflies jumped off cliffs in my stomach, plummeting toward my knees before soaring toward my chest. Everything fluttered in me at the sight of Vann. He smiled at me from where he was only half on the edge of the bench. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I whispered back.

  “We’re not here for you,” Killian announced while he stabbed a piece of potato cassoulet, gesturing at his wife. “We’re scoping out the competition.” His chin jerked toward everyone else. “But they wanted to support a friend or whatever. We figured two birds.”

  I rolled my eyes, laughing at his teasing. “Now that Salt’s open, make sure everyone knows who started brunch first.”

  “Okay, I’ll make sure they know it was us.”

  Kaya leaned forward, giving both of us the evil eye. “It was me. I did brunch first.”

  Killian and I shared a guilty smile. That was true. She did. But Sarita wasn’t even in the same zip code as Bianca so surely, she meant over there, in her specific area. Just like I meant here, in this specific area.

  Or something like that.

  “This is something else, Dillon,” Molly announced, her voice filled with awe. “This is the busiest I’ve ever seen Bianca!”

  I looked around at the full tables and hot dishes being brought out of the kitchen. The bar was packed with people. Outside, clusters of waiting diners dotted the sidewalk in front of the patio.

  “I’m so impressed,” Vera added. “You’ve done the most incredible thing with this place.”

  “And the food…” Wyatt kissed his fingertips. “It’s like you had a really amazing mentor or something, because, Dillon, you’re killing it.”

  My eyes misted with their thoughtfulness and super kind words, but I bossed the tears back. I didn’t want to scare off customers by breaking down into obnoxious sobs in the middle of Saturday morning breakfast. “You guys! Stop! Before this all goes to my head.”

  Vann reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it gently in his. “It should go to your head, Baptiste. Be proud of what you’ve done. You’re wonderful.”

  No, he was wonderful. And it was currently taking all my willpower not to jump on his lap and attack his mouth with my own.

  “Do you want a tour?” I asked instead. I could attack him in private at least.

  His eyebrows jumped. “You can do that?”

  “Sure. It’s my restaurant.”

  My brother leaned forward and butted in. “Technically it’s my restaurant.”

  Obviously, I ignored him. “Come on,” I told Vann. “I’ll show you around.”

  “Can we come?” Killian asked.

  Tuning to the people around us, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t need to come. You know what the inside of a kitchen looks like.”

  “This kitchen, specifically,” Vera added. To the table, she said, “We’ve all helped here at one time or another.”

  “Hey, thanks for stopping by,” I told them as Vann stood up next to me. “You can go ahead and tell me it was the best meal of your life. You’re supposed to lie to your friends.”

  “It’s up there,” Kaya insisted. “Like for real. No lies necessary.”

  My cheeks flushed at her compliment. Kaya wouldn’t lie to me, even if I asked her to. She was too much of a straight shooter. Besides, she
’d want me to get better if I was doing something wrong and telling a chef exactly what they wanted wasn’t the way to do that.

  “Y’all are seriously the best.” I felt the tears threatening again, so it was time to leave. “I’ll tell Chrissy this meal’s on me.”

  “Not happening,” Killian ordered, his mouth full of a croissant.

  Vera gave me an apologetic look. “We’re here to support you, friend. Which means we’re paying for this meal.”

  Ezra’s face became a little less mottled. “That’s a good idea.”

  Everyone ignored him.

  “We should make Ezra get it,” Wyatt murmured as he took another sip of his water and avoided everyone’s eyes.

  “That’s a great idea!” Molly agreed, slapping Ezra on the back. “We’ll take the check.”

  The purple color was back, painting Ezra’s expression. I smiled at my big brother, so thankful for everything he’d done for me and all his support. He was seriously the most amazing person I knew. And he believed in me from the very beginning. I’d never had to prove myself to him. He just automatically thought I was the perfect person to help his restaurant.

  Still, I couldn’t not tease him. What kind of little sister let her brother out of stuff like this?

  “I’ll let Chrissy know. See you guys later.”

  Vann and I left them to bicker over the check. I could hear them all the way to the kitchen, but it only made me smile.

  This was my vision for Bianca—this right here. I wanted a loud, busy dining room. I wanted friends and family meeting here, celebrating, laughing, spending some of the the most important moments of their lives together here. I wanted first dates and anniversary dates and lunch dates. I wanted business meetings and girl nights out and small business pitches. I wanted this dining room to be a revolving door of the chaos of life.

  Because the food would be an afterthought. The good food would be a perk of knowing the perfect spot to handle all of your unique and individual needs.

  I wanted the answer to the question, “Where do you want to go tonight?” to always be, “Bianca.”

  But more than anything, right now, I wanted to share this victory with Vann.

  “This is the dining room,” I told him as we passed through it. “And that’s the bar.” I pushed through the in and out doors, introducing him to the other half of the restaurant.

  The noise paused for only a moment as the scurrying chefs acknowledged the stranger in their midst. And then they turned back to their work and ignored us.

  “This is where the magic happens,” I told him.

  He was silent, thoughtful, as he followed me through. We hurried past the varying stations and all the food being prepared. Not because I was anxious to be alone with him, because he hadn’t washed his hands and I was super conscious about food safety.

  Mm-hmm.

  The hallway was marginally quieter, but it wasn’t until we were inside my office that I finally felt as though we had some privacy. He closed the door behind him, grinning at me.

  “Are we in a hurry?”

  I launched my body at his, wrapping my arms around his neck and clinging to him like this embrace was the only thing holding me together.

  His hands landed on my back, rubbing, soothing, putting the scattered, nervous pieces of me back together. “That’s quite the operation you got out there. I had no idea you were so official.”

  I looked up at him, taking in the short stubble along his jaw. He hadn’t shaved this morning and there was something so sexy about that and Saturday morning Vann and the way his body wrapped around mine so naturally.

  Curiosity sparked inside me and I couldn’t help but ask. “What did you imagine I did?”

  “I mean, I don’t want to diminish your accomplishments or anything, but I kind of pictured like a McDonald’s fry cook or something.”

  I slapped his chest with my hand, laughing at him. “You’re a brat.”

  He caught my face in his hands, the callouses from riding his bike so often rubbing along my jaw. “And you are beautiful, Dillon Baptiste. I knew you were talented, but I didn’t even know someone could be this talented. You’ve blown my mind.”

  I rolled my eyes, loving his words of affirmation, but knowing they weren’t entirely true. “Your sister’s a chef, remember? And light years ahead of me. Thanks, though.”

  He wouldn’t let me walk away. Instead, he held me tighter, dropping the sweetest kiss to my lips. “You’re light years ahead of Vera. Are you serious?” He dropped his voice. “It’s not even a competition.”

  It wasn’t a competition. And Vann’s opinion wasn’t super informed because he wasn’t a chef. But I loved the tummy flutters and light head his compliments brought.

  I smiled at him, drinking him in and this moment and how close our bodies were. “Thanks for coming this morning. It means a lot to me.”

  “You mean a lot to me,” he murmured, dipping his head to trail kisses along my jawline. “I’m so proud of you, Dillon. You did what you set out to do. You rescued the restaurant. You became a chef that can handle all this. You’re amazing.”

  I held him tighter and turned my head to intercept his kisses. My lips were jealous for his mouth.

  He didn’t hesitate. He kissed me with a wild passion that quickly caught in my blood, burning through me with wicked heat.

  Our mouths moved against each other, kissing, biting, tasting. When I gasped for breath, his tongue invaded my mouth, taking command in the very best way. I ran my hands over his broad chest beneath his light blue oxford and shivered as my fingers traced over each tight muscle.

  He did the same to me, trying to make sense of the body hidden beneath my chef’s coat. Eventually he gave up and flicked open the buttons, His hands delving beneath to do all those things I loved so much.

  My breasts in his hands, he walked me back to my desk. I bumped against it and slid to a sitting position, perfectly aligned with his body as I wrapped my legs around his waist and tugged him against me.

  “Don’t you have to get back out there?” he asked between kisses and moans of pleasure.

  “I have a few minutes,” I whispered. “As long as we’re quiet.

  I snapped open the button to his jeans and wiggled the zipper down. Something had come over me. Something like the spirit of a total hussy.

  But God, it felt good to be this free. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so bold with a man. Maybe I never had been. Maybe I’d spent so much of my late teens and early twenties dodging unwanted advances that I hadn’t gotten to have fun with it.

  I shook my head, kicking those thoughts out of my mind. I ran a finger under the waistband of his boxer briefs and enjoyed the quiver that pulsed through his body. “I probably should have locked the door,” he murmured as he leaned over me, pulling the cup of my bra down so he could close his mouth around the peak of my breast. His tongue swirled around my nipple and I had to close my eyes against the sensation.

  I plunged my hand into his boxer briefs, wrapping my hand around him. It was my turn.

  “Holy shit, Dillon,” he groaned. He kissed me in a way I had never been kissed before. In a way that took everything from me, as if he was consuming my very soul as his lips moved over mine in the most delicious way. But he also gave everything in return—like he wasn’t just taking my soul, he was exchanging ours. And now he would hold mine. And I would hold his. And they would remain safe and cherished forever within.

  He made a rumbly noise in the back of his throat before standing up and knocking my hand away. I looked up at him, desperately trying to catch my breath, assuming that our office tryst was over. His gaze was dark, a thunderstorm rolling through those gray eyes of his. Emotion and desire flickered over his face. And then all at once, he gripped the sides of my black leggings and tugged them down.

  I made a sound that was somewhere between a panicked yelp and a desperate moan. He stared at my sex for only a moment, before bringing his mouth back to mine and
plunging two fingers inside me.

  “My turn,” he rasped against my lips.

  I couldn’t kiss him after that. All I could do was close my eyes and let sensation take over.

  He moved his long, rough fingers in and out, filling me only to deny me seconds later. And then fill me again.

  Clutching his shoulders for balance, I held on as he drove me closer and closer toward fireworks.

  “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered in my hair. “You move me, Dillon. In every way.”

  His thumb pressed down on just the right spot and I lost the ability to think completely as every muscle in my body tensed and contracted. Lights exploded behind my closed lids and I gasped his name as I tumbled over the edge.

  He hummed his approval against my temple and then held me as I pieced myself back together.

  Holy hell.

  When I had finally collected myself and was able to open my eyes and meet his heated gaze, I couldn’t stop the self-conscious blush that stained my entire body.

  “Like I said,” he teased with a smile lifting the edges of that beautiful mouth of his. “This was, by far, the best brunch I’ve ever had.”

  My heart pounded in the fragile cage of my chest, threatening to jump out and run away with this man. “That was…” I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek and tried to shake the glazed, sated look off my face. “That was…”

  He smiled. “Will you remember it this time?”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip, knowing I could never forget this time. “You’re so full of yourself,” I said instead of admitting the truth.

  His smile kicked up a notch, calling my lie. “And you’re so full of it.”

  Leaning forward, I caught his lips with mine and nearly kissed him into more fun. When I pulled back, I enjoyed the dazed look on his face. “I have to get back to work.”

  He nodded. “I want to see you again. Soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is it going to be difficult getting away?”