Opposites Attract: The complete box set

by Higginson, Rachel

  I needed a shower. At the very least, I needed to kick off my greasy shoes. But I couldn’t summon the energy. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep where I had dreams of beautiful food and a bustling restaurant and a man that told me I was too beautiful before he gave me the best sex of my entire life.

  Seventeen

  “You’re early!” Molly complained. “I told Ezra to tell you not before ten.”

  I smiled at her efforts to slide a coffee cake ring onto a decorative plate. “I can’t help it.” I stuck a finger under the front of the pastry and helped her unstick it from the butcher paper beneath it. “Just like you can’t help always running late.”

  She rolled her eyes and sucked on her thumb. “You can help it,” she mumbled around frosting. “Turn on Netflix or something. It’s simple.”

  “I don’t even know where to start on that thing. Some of us don’t have the luxury of binge watching anything but our bank account getting bigger.”

  She laughed at my trophy wife dig. “Some of us get to binge watch Netflix and our bank account. You just have to marry money, honey.”

  “Ezra!” I called out. “Your gold-digging girlfriend is making fun of me.”

  He popped his head over the balcony where their bedroom was located. “I told you not to come early.”

  I shrugged again and repeated, “I can’t help it.”

  He disappeared upstairs, and I pulled my organic orange juice and bottle of cheap champagne from the tote at my feet. Waving one in each hand, I smiled at Molly and asked, “Forgive me?”

  She reached for the ten-dollar champagne. “You brought the good stuff!”

  From Vera that would have been sarcasm, but I had Molly’s number. She blended into Ezra’s life effortlessly, but the girl preferred Taco Bell and bargain bin wine. She had no palate for the good stuff.

  Just another reason to love her to pieces.

  “Who all is coming?” I asked, taking a look around at egg bake and quiche and piles of donuts. This was enough to feed an army. Or to put six people into a seventy-year carb coma.

  “Uh, you and me.”

  I looked at her. “Okay, I figured that much.”

  “And Ezra.”

  “This is a lot of food for the three of us.”

  She tried to hide her smile but failed. “I just wasn’t sure. The menu got away from me. I ordered one quiche, but then I wasn’t sure if everyone liked spinach. So, I ordered a second. And then that egg bake looked amazing. And I couldn’t decide about the donuts and here we are.”

  “Babe, we’re all foodies. We’ll literally eat anything just to try it.”

  “Not anything,” she aptly pointed out.

  “As long as you didn’t make it yourself, we’ll literally eat anything.”

  She slapped me with the kitchen towel that had been over her shoulder. “Now you’re going to have to eat all of this. So, I hope you’re happy.” She moved quickly around the kitchen, gathering all the packaging and tell-tale signs she wasn’t the chef behind this breakfast feast.

  Not that the guests wouldn’t figure that out within seconds of stepping in this place.

  Unless she invited people we didn’t know to breakfast. Leave it up to Molly to gather strangers in her home just so the food didn’t go to waste.

  “Kaya and Wyatt,” she added.

  “Is that everyone?”

  “And Vann.” The doorbell rang before I could interrogate her further. “Better get that,” she told me.

  “Ezra already told me you invited him.” She threw a huge, pacifying grin over her shoulder. “I think you misunderstood me the other morning. I wasn’t asking you to play matchmaker.”

  Ignoring me, she pulled open the door and greeted Wyatt and Kaya. “Good morning!”

  I leaned over from where I stood in the kitchen and waved. “What up, bitches.”

  Wyatt waved back and Kaya did a little dance. “Goooood, morning,” she sang out.

  Joining me in the kitchen, they surveyed the spread with wide eyes. “Did you invite everybody in Durham?” Wyatt asked.

  “Har, har,” Molly returned. “I don’t feed large quantities of people on a regular basis, so I’m new to these things.”

  Wyatt picked up a donut. “We’ll find a way to manage somehow.” He grabbed a second donut and a took a bite out of each. “I mean, an excessive number of donuts is hardly a crisis.”

  “We can host next time,” Kaya added.

  “Next time?”

  “It should be monthly, don’t you think? Otherwise we’re never going to see each other.”

  That was true. We were all at different restaurants now and basically had zero free time. If we didn’t plan something like this on the regular, I would be destined to a solitary life of cats and constantly throwing away leftovers that were too much for one person.

  Not exactly the life I hoped to lead.

  “I’m in,” I volunteered immediately. Although my stomach dropped a bit at the realization that if I started brunch at Bianca, I couldn’t actually be in. I would have to be out. Very, very out.

  “Me too!” Molly agreed.

  “You’re in charge of the pastries,” Kaya told her. “You’ll probably be able to freeze everything we don’t eat and bring it over.”

  Wyatt grabbed a third donut. “We probably have enough here for the next… thirty to forty brunches.”

  Molly threw a donut hole at him, but he ducked and caught it in his mouth. “Not if we keep inviting you, Wyatt. You’re like the donut version of Cookie Monster.”

  Ezra bounded down the stairs and joined us. “Stop giving Molly a hard time,” he ordered, wrapping his arms around her immediately. “She orchestrated this all by herself. I’m proud of her.”

  And then he kissed her on the top of her head, painting them as the most perfect couple of all time.

  My stomach dropped further, like it had been trapped in a faulty elevator shaft right before it plummeted eighty stories to its death.

  She looked up at him, gazing at my brother like he had hung the stars in the sky. “I told you when you first met me that ordering takeout was one of my top life skills.”

  He nudged her nose with his. “That you did.”

  Moved by the romance in the room, Kaya leaned on Wyatt. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand still clutching a half-eaten donut.

  Good thing I hadn’t eaten anything yet. Or I would have puked it up all over.

  Ugh, what was it about couples that made me simultaneously want to be in one and swear on all that was holy that I would never be ooey gooey like these mushy love birds?

  Thankfully, there was a knock on the door, and I didn’t have to dry-heave my loneliness all over Ezra’s kitchen floor.

  “I’ll get it!” I moved before anyone could talk me out of it. Conversation continued in the kitchen, but I tuned it out, assuming they were all declaring their undying love for each other and blah, blah, blah.

  I ripped open the door. Vann stood on the other side. The temperature instantly dropped, and goosebumps rose all over my arms.

  We stood there for a prolonged moment, time and space and all the universe ceasing to exist as we tried to figure out what to do next.

  “Brunch?” he eventually said, holding up a netted bag of Clementine’s.

  He hadn’t shaved this morning. There was stubble roughing up his usually smooth jawline. And he had ditched his preppy look for a navy-blue Cycle Life t-shirt, a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose stocking cap. God, it was unfair how sexy he looked.

  And this should not be a sexy look, by the way. I had only ever been exposed to the buttoned-up, I-have-a-trust-fund-and-private-plane gentleman attire. And because those were the kind of men I had previously dated, they were the only ones I had experience with. I imagined a man that could take me to a five-star dinner and be able to afford the tip. I thought I wanted the nice car and country club membership and standing golf outings with his college buddies.

  Vann, like this, was
the opposite of everything I knew about men.

  And yet…

  I licked dry lips and tried to keep my breathing steady. “This way.” I gestured toward the kitchen.

  He stepped inside the door but didn’t move beyond the entryway. “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he confessed in a low murmur.

  I leaned in, accidentally inhaling his freshly showered smell. “I did know you were going to be here,” I whispered. All I could smell now was crisp soap, men’s deodorant, and citrus. It had completely stolen my ability to lie.

  Or think clearly.

  He flinched, my words sparking curiosity. “Thought we were going separate directions, Baptiste. But you keep finding ways to run into me.”

  Some of my senses came back at his accusation. I stood straighter, realizing I had been totally crowding him. “The gym was an accident.” It was an accident. “And it wasn’t like I could tell Ezra no when he invited me to brunch. Although, be on guard, Molly’s trying to set us up.”

  Something flashed across his face, but it happened so fast, I couldn’t grab the emotion and put a name to it. “Seems about right. I think we’re the only single people she knows.”

  “We’ll just have to make it clear we’re not interested in each other,” I told him. “So, she doesn’t keep trying.”

  Leaning in, his chest bumped my shoulder and it was all I could do to remain completely still. Lest I do something ridiculous like shiver. Or swoon. Or tackle him to the ground and start dry-humping him. “You’re not interested in me,” he murmured, quietly enough that the kitchen couples couldn’t hear him. “If I remember correctly. I was totally up for a more memorable round two.”

  The devil was all over his mischievous face when he backed away, a snarky challenge sparking in his eyes.

  My cheeks flamed red, embarrassment burned like a wildfire in my blood. “Were you now?”

  “You’re the one that put on the brakes, Dillon. Not me.”

  I gaped at him as he pranced into the kitchen all high and mighty.

  Okay, he didn’t prance.

  But he might as well have. Cocky bastard.

  Everyone cheered for Vann’s oranges, like he’d managed something spectacular. But hello? I brought the cheap champagne.

  I filled my plate with quiche and a Bavarian crème and a kruller—because I wanted to make Molly feel better for buying all these pastries, obvi.

  And fine, I grabbed an orange too. But that was more to ward off the very real and present threat of scurvy than because I wanted to make Vann feel like people actually wanted what he brought.

  We gathered around Ezra’s table, our plates laden with good food and carbs and love. Mimosas and hot mugs of coffee were passed around and great conversation commenced.

  I could tell Vann was a little nervous, except around Molly. These weren’t his regular people apparently. And we were a little short-staffed without Vera and Killian present.

  He’d ended up in the seat directly across from me and so every once in a while, I would catch his eye and we would look away quickly, pretending we didn’t notice each other.

  What was I supposed to do with this guy?

  He was right. I had put on the brakes. Immediately.

  But now I wasn’t so sure that was the best idea. I was clearly attracted to him. I liked to flirt with him. I liked to look at him. I would like to know if I liked to do other things with him…

  That same drunken image of his naked body over mine flashed in my head.

  I shook my head and took a sip of coffee. “Dillon’s thinking about switching up the weekend at Bianca and doing brunch instead of supper.”

  Everyone looked at me, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Bianca needs a new approach,” I explained with a shrug. “What we’re doing right now isn’t working. I need to make some big changes. And fast.”

  “When are you thinking of changing things up?” Kaya asked.

  “Soon.” I looked at Molly. “I’d like to jumpstart the change with a social media campaign.”

  She nodded excitedly. “Of course. I love the idea. It would be such a good location for breakfast. And all that natural light and white décor. That place was built for Saturday mornings on Instagram.”

  I smiled at her praise. She wasn’t exactly the food expert in the group, but she was exactly my target market. Her enthusiasm was encouraging.

  “That’s a good call, Dillon,” Wyatt put in. “It might be a hard adjustment for your staff though.”

  “We’ve been talking about it quite a bit. I have some strategies we’re going to try. Worst case, I hire a few additional servers and line cooks. It should be a pretty simple menu. I want uncomplicated elegance.”

  “Casual French is how she pitched it to me,” Ezra added. Then shrugged, his expression melting into admiration. “The concept is impossible not to love. Hopefully execution is as easily embraced.”

  I felt Vann’s stare all over my skin, making me hot and hyper aware of him and stupidly nervous. “Hopefully,” I said meekly.

  “Thinking like a real head chef now, huh?” Vann’s voice held this note of gloating that made me immediately furious.

  And overly warm.

  Leaning forward, I toyed with my empty champagne glass. “You know, since I am one.”

  His smirk was unsurprising, but just as smug. “I’m impressed, Dillon.”

  “That makes me feel so much better. Now that you’re impressed, Vann.”

  He rested his elbows on the table, dipping his head so we were exactly eye level. “I assumed that was your goal. Impressing me.”

  My jaw snapped shut, my teeth clacking together in frustration. I shot him a tight-lipped smile. He hid his grin behind a sip of coffee.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. He opened his, all wide-eyed innocence.

  The rest of the table watched us like a tennis match, their heads bouncing back and forth.

  I turned to Ezra and smiled sweetly. “I guess I have you to thank.”

  “For what?” he asked smoothly, trying to smother a laugh at my expense.

  “For making me a real head chef.”

  Ezra shrugged. “I don’t think you can credit me with any of what you’re doing at the restaurant. That’s all you.”

  I shoved a bite of abandoned donut in my mouth and tried to act normal. Between all the compliments and support and Vann’s teasing and gloating and just all-around presence, I was completely frazzled. If I was a bird all my feathers would be ruffled right now. All of them. Every last one.

  “There was a time I would have thought this was impossible,” Ezra continued. Fresh embarrassment descended like a tsunami. “Now here you are, telling me how you’re going to run my restaurant.”

  I knew he meant well. I knew this was a moment of genuine love and affection coming from my older brother. But did it need to happen right now? With Vann here? And all these other people?

  Of course, Vann didn’t take the polite, socially acceptable way out. Oh, no. He had to poke the hornet’s nest. “Why do you say that?”

  Ezra had no embarrassment meter. I didn’t even think he knew how to feel embarrassed. There was not a gauge inside him warning him when to slow down or stop. He just plowed onward, ticking up quite the body count behind him.

  Today was the first time I’d been considered a real-life casualty. But that didn’t make it easier.

  “Because Dillon used to be wild. She couldn’t hold a job, let alone manage a restaurant.” His voice sobered, losing the humorous edge he’d had seconds ago. “Honestly, there was a time, I thought I was going to lose her.” I glared at him and he flinched, realizing he’d said too much. “But now look at you, sis.” His tone was peppy with renewed energy, hoping to cover for his unwanted trip down memory lane. “You pulled it together.”

  “Thanks, Ez.” I only used his nickname to irritate the bejesus out of him. “But we don’t have to rehash any of that today. Or any day. Or ever…”

  Vann’
s ears perked up like a hunting dog on the scent. “Must have been a pretty scary time though. I mean, especially as her brother.”

  Ezra nodded.

  I was going to murder Vann.

  “It killed me when Vera was with Derrek the Dick,” Vann spit out. “I felt totally helpless.”

  I noticed Molly throwing shade from down the line and was thankful for my one ally. Even if she didn’t say anything. Ezra didn’t even notice Vann’s backhanded tactics.

  “Sisters, man,” Ezra sighed.

  “All right, I think that’s enough of the big brother support group,” I said, standing up to clear plates. It was officially time to get the hell out of dodge. “You two can meet next month. Ezra, it’s your turn to supply the shitty lemonade.”

  Vann looked straight at me and I swear there was a twinkle in his gray, gray eyes. “Whoa, I’m sorry if I offended you. I can just relate to Ezra. That’s all I was saying. I know what it’s like to care for somebody, watching them struggle and not be able to do anything about it.”

  “Especially when they don’t want help,” Ezra added.

  “I didn’t need help,” I argued, hating that we were having this discussion even after I’d tried so hard to get away from it. “I was fine.”

  “Now you’re fine,” Ezra called after me as I stomped toward the kitchen. “You know what you were like six years ago. You know that wasn’t fine. Not even fucking close.”

  There was a weighted silence as his words hung in the air, effectively piquing everyone’s curiosity and ripping me wide open.

  I heard Molly whisper a forced, “Ezra, drop it.” But other than that, nobody spoke for a long time.

  Shoving my dishes beneath the faucet and letting them clatter in the sink, I wrenched the faucet on and wished Ezra’s apartment had more privacy.

  Taking a deep breath, I knew I had to say something. I couldn’t just let the morning end like this. Besides, it was six years ago.

  Six whole years.

  I should be better at this by now.

  Why wasn’t I better at this?

  Popping back into the open dining room, I plastered on a fake smile and looked at my friends sitting in tense silence.