Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  Killian tapped the wooden table with his pointer finger. “Jo knows her shit. She’ll set you up with whatever you need.”

  I entered into conversation with Jo, haggling just like she’d accused. I realized that Killian hadn’t stopped me from buying peppers because Jo didn’t keep a stock that extensive. Although her lettuce was better than what I’d already bought. I ended up picking everything else I needed for the weekend from her except for protein and cheese.

  By the time Killian said goodbye to Jo and helped carry all my packages to my car, I had dropped a significant amount of money. And I was okay with that. I felt better about spending it today than I had in a long time.

  It wasn’t as though I was completely destitute anymore. Foodie had been making enough money for me to continually put the profit back into the food and utilities and social media advertising.

  If I had been living on my own and had those expenses to pay or had to rent a spot for my truck, I might have been in some unsustainable territory. With my family’s help, I could invest a little more each weekend. It was a good feeling.

  I hadn’t crashed and burned.

  Not yet.

  “Do you want some help with your purchases?” I asked Killian when he’d put the last bag of organic goodies in my trunk and slammed it shut.

  “Jo delivers straight to Lilou,” he explained. “I have a standing order with her. She knows what I like.”

  I propped my hip against the passenger side door. “Must be nice to be the great Killian Quinn.”

  “Hey, we all have delivery services,” he pointed out, referring to commercial kitchens. “I just have the best one.”

  “So, foster mom, huh?” It wasn’t exactly a subtle question, but I was too curious to be polite.

  He squinted, watching the market close for the day instead of me. “Yeah, the one that finally stuck.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He dropped his gaze to mine, and I had to take a deep breath to steady my erratic nerves. How could I be attracted to someone as serious and intense as Killian? How could I even consider a man so similar to my ex? At least on the surface. It made no sense.

  There had to be something wrong with me.

  “That’s a story for a different time,” he answered. “It’s kind of dramatic and I don’t want to scare you off just yet.”

  I swallowed the disappointment and covered my reaction with sarcasm. “Too late.”

  His crooked smile made my insides melty. “We should make some time to talk about it, though. I’ll share all the gory details of my childhood, and you can tell me about your dad. We don’t even have to talk about food.”

  The bottom fell out from beneath me, and I was surprised I didn’t have to flail as I regained my balance. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Yeah, a date. It could be fun.”

  I licked dry lips and wished I could take a step back. “As fun as talking about my sick dad and your traumatic childhood sounds, I, uh, I can’t.”

  His low voice softened, but not in a gentle way. Careful. Controlled. Curious. “You can’t?”

  His frown, his smooth voice, his intimidating tattoos that made him so much cooler than me, flustered me. I didn’t know how to explain to him that it wasn’t him. It was me. It was all me. But there were too many secrets that accompanied that truth. If I told him one, I’d have to tell them all. And I wasn’t ready for that.

  He wanted to keep his past a secret.

  So did I.

  “I just got out of a relationship,” I braved. “It ended badly. I’m not ready to get into something new.”

  “I’m not asking you to marry me,” he countered. “Just a drink. Share a meal with me. Have a conversation. Nothing crazy.”

  God, I wanted to say yes. Yes, to all of it. A drink, a meal, a conversation… him. I wanted him. “I know,” I mumbled. I felt my chest start to crack, a thin fissure that snaked from breastbone to navel, starting the fracture that would split me open. But I’d stopped trusting myself to do the right thing a long time ago.

  I couldn’t give in now.

  I couldn’t undo everything I’d worked so hard to get back.

  “I need more time,” I told him, my voice thin with desperation. I needed him to understand. To back off before I crumbled under the light pressure of his interest. “I’m sorry, it was just a really bad relationship. How did you phrase it? Gory.” Only I meant that quite literally.

  A muscle in his neck jumped. “You broke up recently?”

  “Before I left for Europe,” I confessed. “Over a year ago.”

  His shoulders drooped, and I could have sworn his expression twisted with disappointment. “You’re not over him?”

  My heart tripped over its erratic beating, and I nearly fell over. He assumed I was still hung up on Derrek? And of course he would, because he didn’t know any of the details, but he had no idea. The idea that I was still interested… that I could still want… My stomach twisted at the very thought.

  Never again.

  I would never give into Derrek again.

  Even if that meant a lifetime of celibacy and no professional recognition.

  “It’s not what you think. I’m over what happened. I’m just… I just can’t get a drink with you or a meal. I’m sorry, Killian.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he ordered, his voice unrelenting with the demand. “You said no. That’s all I needed. I’m sorry to make you keep explaining.”

  He stepped back, and I immediately wanted to move into him. I also wanted to punch myself in the ovaries. God, could I just make up my mind?

  I didn’t want him.

  I did want him.

  I didn’t want to lead him on.

  I did want to go on a date with him and jump his bones.

  My libido was at war with my head, and my heart wanted to abandon my body altogether. God, I needed to get my shit together.

  And fast.

  “I’m—” I stopped myself before I apologized again. “Thanks for understanding.” That had to be the lamest letdown ever. As soon as he turned around, I was going to bang my head against my car door.

  His shadowed bark of laughter surprised me. “I don’t understand, Vera. I’m not even pretending to understand. But I’m not going to convince you to go out with me either. So, I guess I’ll see you around.”

  I grabbed his wrist before he could walk away. He paused, half turned away from me. “Thanks for introducing me to Jo. And for showing me this place. I owe you.”

  His shoulders rose with a deep breath, calming some of his fierce energy. “You do. You owe me.”

  My hands dropped to my side, suddenly trembling from that dark promise. He turned around, changing his mind. He walked back to me, slowly, deliberately, trapping me between his hard, tall body and the solid wall of my car. His arms caged me in, pressing against either side of my head.

  His chest barely brushed mine, hovering over me just enough to tease, to make me want closer contact, but denying me.

  Just like I’d denied him.

  I stared at him, waiting for him to do something. Say something. His green eyes held mine captive, flashing with thoughts I couldn’t read and emotions I couldn’t decipher.

  Just when I’d decided to break the tension between us by speaking, he lifted his hand to my jaw and carefully cupped my face. His fingers were calloused and rough, cradling me with a softness that came from inside him, something you would never see on his outside.

  “You like me, Vera. And if you haven’t figured it out yet, you should know I like you too. I like you a lot. Get over this ex-boyfriend of yours so we can explore where this thing between us goes.”

  Before I could argue with him, his mouth dropped to mine, pressing a swift, intoxicating kiss to my lips. My eyes fluttered closed, and I drowned in sensation. Butterflies erupted in my belly, sending tingles soaring through my body, making my head swim and my toes curl. His beard brushed against my face, scratchy
and soft at the same time. His lips lingered long enough for me to taste them, feel the shape of them, decide how perfectly they fit against mine.

  He was gone just as soon as I’d decided to kiss him back. He stepped away from me, letting me slump against the car, disoriented and inwardly disheveled. He’d picked up all the pieces of me, all the puzzle pieces I’d been trying to sort through and put back together, and dropped them on the ground in a confused mess.

  Nothing was where it was supposed to be now. Nothing fit like I thought it should.

  “Bye, Vera.”

  I didn’t even reply. I just watched him walk away while my knees wobbled and my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.

  Killian Quinn was nothing like I expected him to be. Charming when I wanted to be annoyed. Sensitive and thoughtful when I’d already decided he was only an asshole. Irresistible while I tried to do my best to resist him.

  I was stubborn. Headstrong. Determined to see my isolation through.

  But I was starting to realize he was more stubborn. More headstrong. More determined than I could ever be.

  And that was very concerning.

  Seventeen

  The next Saturday night I’d perfected my shishito and skirt steak tacos. They were a huge hit.

  I was super proud of them. And myself. Killian hadn’t stepped in once to offer his advice. Well, except for the lemon suggestion, but since that had happened before I tried out the recipe, I let myself believe I might have come up with that one all by myself had I been given the chance.

  The thing about lying to myself was that I had been doing it for so long that I hardly noticed anymore.

  And I’d been lying to myself a lot this week, so it was almost impossible to divide the lies from the truth at this point.

  I hadn’t seen Killian since the Morning Market when I’d rejected his date request. I’d written him maybe three hundred texts, but deleted all of them before I accidentally pressed send. I’d also shown up to work way earlier than necessary in case I caught a glimpse of him, but he’d always been in his kitchen already. And unlike the weeks prior, he didn’t leave it.

  Last night, I heard his motorcycle pull away from Lilou, but I’d been plating to-go boxes in the safety of my food truck. He hadn’t stopped by. And he hadn’t sent anyone to spy on me as far as I could tell.

  There were no notes or texts telling me what I needed to change.

  Or add.

  Or cussing me out for using salt.

  And how pathetic was I? I’d done nothing but complain about the man all summer, and now he hadn’t talked to me for three days, and I was seriously reconsidering my life decisions.

  Even the ones I made post-Derrek.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind if I take off?” Vann’s question pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.

  I looked down at the steak I’d been mutilating. Oops.

  “No, it’s fine. People will wait. And if they don’t, their loss.”

  He lightly punched my shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

  Vann had waited for a lull in the crowd before broaching the subject. We’d been sporadically busy tonight. The bursts were big, but then the lulls were long and slow. It was a weird night.

  “So, this is the second date?” I propped my hip against the counter and gave my brother my full attention.

  “Second,” he confirmed. “She’s nice. You’d like her.”

  “Who cares if I like her? Do you like her?”

  He nodded, his eyes remaining bored. “Yeah, she’s nice.”

  “You already said that.” My brother. Good grief.

  He barely noticed. “Did I?”

  “I don’t know why you do this to yourself.”

  He jingled the keys in the pocket of his navy blue shorts. This was Vann dressed for a date—J. Crew shorts, crisp white, short-sleeved button up shirt, leather sandals. He looked like a preppy skater. If there was such a thing. “Do what to myself?”

  “Date nice girls. You don’t like them.”

  He gave me a look. “Of course I like nice girls.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  He laughed like I was a lunatic. “You think I should date mean girls?”

  “I think you should date a girl that makes you feel something other than nice.”

  He raised an eyebrow, not taking anything I said seriously. “Now you’re a dating guru?”

  “What? You couldn’t tell from my super successful relationship and happily ever after kind of life?”

  He stared at me for a minute, watching me, reading me. “I don’t know, sis. I think all your wisdom comes from the bad experience variety.”

  I shrugged, my happy mask slipping momentarily.

  “Are you ever going to talk about what happened?”

  I breathed through my nose so he wouldn’t notice the panic sizzling beneath my skin. He knew the story. At least I’d told him a version of what had happened when I first came home. But that had been the last time I talked about it. It wasn’t worth bringing up again. “There’s nothing to talk about. We didn’t work out. Relationships end all the time.”

  “Not usually by one of them running away to Europe for the year. Did he even try to come after you? Or reach out and apologize for everything?”

  I shuddered at Vann’s word usage. Derrek had no idea where I’d gone. I’d made sure of that specifically because he would have come after me if he had. But he had bothered my dad for a long time. And if I wouldn’t have deleted my email, social media accounts and canceled my phone, he probably would have found me and hunted me down.

  Europe wasn’t far enough away to stop him.

  Hell, Jupiter wasn’t far enough away.

  Or maybe not. Maybe he finally understood that I was finished. Europe wasn’t the first time I’d broken up with him. It was just the first time it had stuck.

  And only because I didn’t consult him on the decision. I just left. It was hard to convince someone to stay if they weren’t there to manipulate.

  My phone burned in my pocket. All of his unanswered Facebook messages felt extra heavy tonight.

  “I flew straight to Amsterdam, Vann. What was he going to do? Hop on a plane and scour the city looking for me?”

  For the first time in his life, Vann looked passionate about something. Not just serious. Not just involved, but zealous. “Yeah. That. Or the whole damn country. If you love a girl, if she’s the one, you don’t let an ocean stop you. You go after her. You don’t let her get away.”

  My brother had been invaded by the body snatchers. It was the only explanation. Vann didn’t do commitment. I’d never seen him date someone for longer than a couple of months. He didn’t even take love seriously. He always said he was allergic to it. So, what was this?

  “Where is this coming from?” I asked, shocked.

  He looked out the window, avoiding my stare. “It’s not coming from anywhere. That’s just the way of it. You go hard after people you care about or you probably never cared about them to begin with.”

  “Then you should probably stop dating nice girls. You’re not going to find Ms.-fly-across-the-world-to-get-her-back in your current pool of availables.”

  He shrugged and checked his pockets for his wallet. “You never know, Vera. She might turn out to be the one.”

  “You really think so?”

  An amused smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “No, but she can be the one tonight.”

  “You’re so gross.”

  “And late. I have to go. You sure you’re okay on your own? Do you want me to send Dad over?”

  “I’m fine. When Wyatt comes over for his break, I’ll ask him to walk me to my car later.”

  “Alright sounds good. Lock the door behind me.”

  I saluted him because that’s what little sisters did. He waved me off and headed out. I did as he asked and locked the door as soon as he stepped outside.

  Oh, Vann. I didn’t get his relationship issues. I had tons of reasons
to swear off men and dating.

  But his history with girls was so boring.

  Busy. But overall, uneventful.

  A few people walked up to the truck, and I threw myself back into my work. I hadn’t been lying when I told Vann I’d ask Wyatt to walk me to my car later, even if I had to close up a little early. Killian might have been avoiding me, but I fully expected Wyatt at some point. He was like the stray puppy I’d accidentally adopted.

  After I’d taken their money, I got to work, making tacos as quickly as possible and putting it in a box with sriracha esquites and a lemon wedge. I handed the boxes out the window, warning them that it might be a bit spicy.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone step up to the order window, so I passed out some extra napkins and left them to enjoy their meals.

  The side door of Lilou opened and captured my attention as I walked down the line of windows to the order side. My heart stilled in my chest, pausing just long enough for me to see it was someone taking out the trash—not Killian on break. Not that I was waiting to catch a glimpse of Killian or anything. Because I wasn’t.

  I let go of a frozen breath, and my heartbeat normalized again. But only for a second.

  “What a relief to find out you’re not dead.”

  His voice stopped me cold. Too late. I stood just inches away from him, separated by the thin siding of my food truck.

  Derrek.

  Derrek Hanover. Executive chef. Adjunct professor at CAI. Ex-boyfriend. Nightmare.

  I wasn’t a fan of horror movies. I could tolerate them, but they weren’t my favorite genre. That said, I had always watched them with a sort of elevated sense of self. I would imagine myself in the exact shoes of the heroine in whatever movie and know exactly what I would do differently to save myself from whatever horrific situation she’d gotten herself into.

  For instance, I would never run up the stairs if a serial killer chased me around the house. I would fight like hell to run out the door. Or car keys. I would get them in the lock in plenty of time not to be murdered. I wouldn’t fumble around waiting to have my throat sliced. No simple task would stop me from survival.

  And yet here I was, a psychopath just inches from me, and I’d taken the elevator to the top floor and thrown my keys down a well—probably the same well the girl from The Ring lived in.