“Nothing life changing,” she said quickly, helping me relax a teeny bit. “Your dad and I want to come visit you. It’s been too long since we’ve spent time together. And since we can’t get you to visit us for some silly reason, we thought we’d come to you.”
“Oh.”
“But we don’t want to get out there only for you to ignore us and work the whole time. Do you have vacation days or something? Can we get time with our eldest daughter before we die? Or should we say goodbye now? I can leave funeral instructions with the preacher if you’d rather. You won’t have to be bothered with the details. I know how much you hate to be inconvenienced.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at my mom’s sharp tongue. I’d stopped wondering where I got my short-temper a long time ago. But with her it was impossible to tell if she was joking or not. Her voice never sounded sarcastic or teasing. And her expression never ever gave anything away. But surely that was a joke, right?
She couldn’t be serious about wanting to spend time with me before she died… right? Or quite possibly this was a new low. Even for her. She was probably trying to lure me back home with death threats.
It was kind of working. I didn’t want my parents to feel like I didn’t love them or want to spend time with them. I did. Of course I did.
But I also had a demanding job. And there was always that off chance of the zombie apocalypse starting while I was visiting them at home…making it impossible to leave…so I’d be stuck fighting zombies for the rest of my life in the same town I swore I would never live in again. Legit reasons for never going back there.
“Mom, I’d love it if you and Dad came to visit me.” I was also kind of dreading it. But this was always how it was with my parents. There was always equal shares of love and trepidation. “When are you thinking?”
“Next weekend,” she said quickly, the tone of her voice changing just slightly. She sounded happier… softer. “Is that enough time for you to get one or two days off?”
“I already have Sunday off,” I assured her, even though I wanted to kick myself for offering her one of Sarita’s days. I knew Vera would understand, but I didn’t know if I would. I wanted to work at Sarita again, couldn’t wait for it. No matter what job Vera had waiting for me, and let’s get real, it could get worse before it ever got better. She could make me fill in the exterminator position, for example, to catch cockroaches by hand. She could send me rat hunting and tell me not to bother coming back until I’d skewered them all.
Just kidding, from what I understood the rodent and bug problem was mostly under control by now. Thank God. Still, there were plenty of jobs that I dreaded.
And for some reason, I trusted Vera to know that whatever she had waiting for me was part of this growing and maturing business. In the long run, it would benefit me. And hopefully, Sarita. That was all I needed.
Bring on the proverbial cockroaches.
Kind of.
If I absolutely had no other choice and my future depended on it.
“Your dad has a doctor’s appointment on Monday afternoon, so we’ll leave that morning. We’d like to see you while we’re there.”
“Mom, I told you I have Sunday off.” She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her judgment through the phone. “And I’ll see what I can do about Saturday.”
“That’s all we ask, darlin’.”
I glanced at the door and knew Wyatt would have something to say about it. He struggled to give me Sundays off on a regular basis and that was my actual day off.
“When can I expect you?”
“We’ll come up Friday night and entertain ourselves. That way we have all day Saturday together.”
It wouldn’t be the worst thing to entertain my parents for the weekend, right? I did love them. And I enjoyed spending time with them when they weren’t harping on me to move back home.
Even if I wasn’t their favorite, they were as devoted as possible to me. My family had always been close, maybe too close. We were always in each other’s business. Always overstepping boundaries and butting in when we shouldn’t. That was why they could never let me go completely. They were used to being in the middle of my life. They were used to knowing and caring about every single little thing that went on with me. And they wanted to keep it that way.
It was sweet. But also suffocating. And the reason I’d fled Hamilton to begin with. At least one of the reasons.
Mom and I said goodbye and I clicked off my phone. Stepping back into the building, I braced myself against the humid air that enveloped me immediately. It was a different kind of stifling. It somehow wrapped around my body, clenched my lungs with two fists, pulled sweat from my pores and infused every inch of me with its heaviness. And still, it felt like freedom.
This was the familiar feel of the kitchen.
This was the siren call that would not let me go.
My parents’ brand of smothering was not like this at all. Their hold on me was like a wet pillow over my face sometimes. Cooking was the opposite—it gave me breath.
My parents were codependent. Lilou and I were happily independent side by side.
I tucked my phone away in my purse and prepared myself for dinner service.
“Hey, are you going to work or stand outside all afternoon?”
I whirled around to find Wyatt standing behind me, hands planted on his hips, growly expression on his stupidly handsome face. I thought back to Will and had to smile. He was cute, but he wasn’t my type. If I had a type, one that I was willing to seek out and try to date, it was Wyatt. From edgy haircut to tattoos running the length of his body to his scuffed black motorcycle boots, he was the man I would design for myself.
“Stalk much?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow so he knew I wasn’t impressed with his bullish behavior. “I swear every time I step outside you get in my business.”
He swayed into me, his hand landing on the wall beside my head. “You were in the middle of prep,” he reminded me. “It’s my job to make sure we’re service ready.”
I desperately tried to suppress a smile. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, chef. I’m definitely service ready.”
His eyes flared with heat and his expression softened. Even still he leaned closer. “Seriously, everything okay?”
I should have pushed him away. He was crowding me, covering my body with his heat and scent, forcing a frustrating desire to touch him. But I didn’t. I was used to fire. I worked with it. I used it to create, to cook, to show off my skills. I knew how to handle it.
Instead of backing away from him, I let my finger run down his sternum, enjoying the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “It was my mom. My parents are coming to visit next weekend.” Lifting my gaze, I met his and pretended to have more courage than I felt. “I need next Saturday off.”
Half his mouth kicked into a smile. “Is that why you’re playing nice? You want something from me?”
“Need something,” I whispered. “I need it from you.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments. His eyes searched mine, looking for something I didn’t know how to give him. Or hide from him. He struggled to swallow again, and my breathing picked up in response.
Who was playing with who now?
“Saturday’s a big night. I don’t think I can spare you.”
“My parents don’t visit that often,” I returned, settling my hand against his breastbone so I could feel the hammering of his heart. I was mesmerized by the whole thing. My eyes were glued to my hand as it rested against his black t-shirt.
It looked tiny against his broad chest—delicate, dainty. He wasn’t a bulky man, but his entire body seemed corded with long, slender muscles. He was a force of nature. A priceless marble statue. And yet the racing of his heart told me that he was also, somehow, breakable.
“Please,” I whispered, hoping that was all he was waiting on.
“Have coffee with me.”
I tore my eyes from his body and glued them to his face. “What?” In
my head the word was a screech, a surprised yelp. But in reality, it left my mouth on a whisper.
“Have coffee with me,” he repeated. “And you can have Saturday off.”
“Are you blackmailing me to go on a date with you?”
“Who said anything about a date? It’s coffee.”
“I haven’t gone on a d—” I cleared my throat and started that sentence over. “I haven’t gone out for coffee in a long time.”
The other half of his mouth joined the first in an amused smile. “Does that make it a policy for you now? You’re anti-coffee?”
“I’m not anti-coffee. I’m definitely pro-coffee. I just usually drink it alone.”
“That’s cool,” he laughed. “I usually drink it alone too.”
I blinked at him.
He shuffled back a few steps to put some distance between us. “One time we can do it together. It’s not a big deal.”
My eyebrows scrunched together of their own volition. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
He shook his head. “How about tomorrow?”
“You’re asking for payment way in advance.”
He shrugged. “I’m making sure you don’t have any opportunity to renege on your part of the deal.”
I rubbed my temples with my forefingers. “Tomorrow’s Tuesday.”
“And?” His smile was still in place. He knew exactly what day it was.
“Don’t you go to the Morning Market on Tuesday?”
“Oh, right,” he said. “We can meet there. The coffee’s good.”
“You’ve lost your damn mind.”
His smile brightened. “Maybe.” Then he turned around and called over his shoulder, “Now get back to work before I fire you.”
Even after all that flirty banter… even after a scheduled date… I still believed he would fire me.
That made me the dumbest person in the world for being secretly excited about having coffee with him at the farmer’s market tomorrow morning.
Fourteen
He’d texted last night and told me to meet him at seven this morning. My eyes were barely open this early. The sun was barely awake. It felt like neither of us wanted to be here, yet… here we were. Doing our part to give Wyatt what he wanted.
Although I supposed most of the people on this side of the world wanted the sun to rise. It wasn’t only Wyatt.
I yawned as I stumbled my way from the gravel parking lot to where he stood next to a coffee stand. I knew this market well. I had shopped it often, but it looked different this morning. Maybe it was the softer, earlier light than I was used to. Or maybe it was the start of the new season as we rolled closer to summer.
Mostly, I thought it was Wyatt. I had never been here with a man before, let alone a man like Wyatt. Dillon and I often came here Wednesday mornings. And there were a few times during Killian’s reign at Lilou when he’d sent me in his place if Wyatt hadn’t been able to go for him for whatever reason.
I’d brought Molly here twice when she’d wanted to surprise Ezra by cooking for him. Both times had ended in disaster. She’d made me promise to never bring her again, no matter how ambitious Pinterest made her.
Wyatt held out a to-go cup of coffee with that aggravating half smile lifting one side of his mouth and the sun rising behind him. A shiver trickled down my spine and I decided it was worth getting up early this morning to see this—Wyatt like this, gentle, kind… sweet.
I took the coffee from him, our fingers brushing in the exchange, and wondered if I even needed the caffeine anymore. He had managed to completely wake me up by looking irresistible.
We hated each other, I reminded my heart.
No you don’t, my heart whispered back.
I don’t think we ever did, my brain agreed.
“Good morning.” He stepped closer to me and I inhaled the fresh, clean scent of him. His hair had been recently trimmed, the sides freshly shaved.
“You got a haircut,” I pointed out, ignoring the tender way he’d greeted me. Not on purpose. It was like my entire body was rioting with a thousand different emotions and I didn’t know how to process any of them. Instead, I chose to ignore them. It was a totally mature response and I should probably receive some kind of award for how good at adulthood I was.
He ran a hand over the side of his head a little self-consciously. “Oh yeah.”
“When?”
“Huh?”
“When did you have time between last night and this morning?” What I wanted to ask was what barber kept those crazy hours?
It was hard enough finding time to do routine maintenance on my body with the kind of hours I kept. Things like doctors and dentist appointments got pushed off all the time. Especially because I rarely prioritized them over hair and nails. Maybe my mom should have included a good gynecologist in her girl squad lectures.
“Oh, I did it,” he confessed, chuckling self-deprecatingly.
“Are you serious?”
I had the pleasure of seeing his cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Yeah. Why? Does it look bad?”
Leaning around him so I could take in all sides, I shook my head, amazed at this surprising skill. “No, it looks amazing. You did a good job.”
He laughed again. “Uh, thanks.”
“How long have you done it yourself?”
“Since I was a kid,” he answered. “The way I grew up, I didn’t always know if I’d be able to get it cut by someone else. It was easier to do it myself.”
“You grew up with Killian didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Kind of. In the same circles. Foster care. Eventually I was deemed a troubled enough youth to get sent to Jo’s with Killian and Ezra.”
I lifted my eyebrows and drank in all this surprising information. “Jo? As in the Jo? Farm Jo?”
The smile that twisted his lips made my heart leap into a sprint. It was so affectionate, so absolutely adoring. I immediately wanted him to look at me like that. I was jealous for this expression that I had never seen before. Desperate for it.
“Yeah, she took us all in. Tamed us. Taught us to be civil.”
His answer did something to my insides, turned them squishy and soft. “I would have liked to see that.”
“What?”
“You,” I answered, my voice just above a whisper. “Before you were civil.”
His grin curled through me, making my toes flex and belly quiver. He leaned closer, dropping his voice while a wicked sparkle danced in his eyes. “I can demonstrate if you’d like.”
I licked lips that were suddenly dry, but I didn’t know how to reply. “Yes, please,” seemed a little too eager. But “No, thank you,” wasn’t right either.
Changing the subject was my safest bet. “You were wild then?”
“Savage.” He ran a hand through his hair again, but this time it wasn’t a nervous gesture, it was confident and casual, and totally Wyatt. “My mom tried. For a long time. She was an addict though. Meth or some shit. Anyway, I didn’t end up in the system until I was fourteen. I was lucky enough to eventually get to Jo. There were some rough years prior. I was back and forth between group homes and my mom for a long time.” He started walking through the vendors, quietly sharing his history with me while we passed peppers in every color and big bouquets of lettuce. The air smelled fresh and herby. I followed alongside him, drinking in every single word with a hunger for him I didn’t know was possible. “When I was sixteen, I got a new caseworker and she permanently removed me from my mom’s home, if you can call it that. Donna took one look at me and sent me to Jo. By that time, she knew my kind. And she knew exactly who could kick my ass into shape.”
“Jo?” I laughed. I knew Jo. Or I’d experienced Jo. It didn’t surprise me at all that she’d been the one able to handle Ezra, Killian, and Wyatt. Even as teenage hellions. She was the scariest woman I’d ever met, and I was convinced her produce was as good as it was because she threatened it into obedience. If I were her produce, I would listen too.
He grun
ted an agreeable sound. “But it worked. She worked.” He let out a slow breath and launched into an explanation. “My mom didn’t do anything as far as parenting. I basically raised myself. She would have food in the house sometimes, but for the most part I learned how to do what needed to be done on my own. That meant haircuts or showers, homework or sickness. Whatever. By the time I got to Jo, I was wild. I’d never had discipline or an authority figure that I respected. School was something I tolerated because I knew if I didn’t go, they would take me away from my mom. But I was a terrible student. And I was bad. That’s how CPS found me. The principal kept calling my mom and eventually she answered… high. They knew something was up immediately.”
“Oh my God, Wyatt.”
His chin jutted out. “It’s okay. It led me to Jo. And Killian and Ezra. And it gave me this.” He spread his hands wide, gesturing to the nearest produce stand with his coffee cup. “Food.”
His smile had turned gently affectionate again and I realized I had never experienced the two of them together before. I’d seen how she spoiled Killian and treated him like he was God’s gift to the planet. And I’d seen her butt heads with Ezra and put him in his place. I’d also seen her baby the grown man like he was a wounded toddler. But I’d yet to see her around Wyatt. I couldn’t imagine that he would tolerate either parenting style. He didn’t want to be adored. And he definitely didn’t want to be coddled.
A nervous wisp wiggled through my belly, but I didn’t take the time to examine it.
“Do you still see your mom?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “Nah, she passed my senior year of high school.” He kept his head dipped, staring at the ground. “Overdose.”
“Wyatt.”
He shrugged, but his shoulders remained stiff and rigid. “Yeah, it sucks. She always had demons, you know? She could never shake them. Never found a reason to.”
My breath was trapped in my lungs, unable to escape. I stopped walking and grabbed his coffee-free hand, turning him to face me. “You were the reason,” I whispered, my eyes watering with unshed tears. “You were the reason to stop.”
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 78