The Something about Her: Opposites Attract book four

by Higginson, Rachel

  Which was exactly what I did as soon as I laid down in bed.

  Just kidding. I tossed and turned all night and eventually fell asleep out of sheer, battered exhaustion.

  Fifteen

  “How did the weekend go?” I asked Blaze as soon as he walked through the door to Bianca Monday morning.

  His eyes widened and he took a step back as if I’d scared him. I was too tightly wound to pull back. I had spent the morning on the treadmill at my apartment, going over the weekend numbers and his notes.

  He wasn’t the most verbose person out there and so there wasn’t a lot of detail about the weekend. The numbers had been within the recent averages—which wasn’t the best news ever, but they weren’t worse. So, there was that.

  “Morning, Chef,” he greeted, being polite where I clearly failed. “It’s good to have you back.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “Details, Blaze. I need weekend details.”

  He shrugged and looked around. “We’re still standing. I think that’s a good thing?”

  His dry sense of humor was growing on me, but I wanted more than that. “Did things go smoothly? Were there any big complaints? Or did y’all run things like usual? Did you run out of anything?”

  “We did run out of the scallops on both nights. I think the way you’ve changed up the recipe has been a huge hit. We might need to figure that out.”

  I was pleased to hear that. Extremely pleased, actually. “Coffee?” I held up the French press I’d brought from my house just for these Monday meetings.

  He looked visibly relieved to see caffeine. “Yes, please.”

  And I was happy to have a somewhat comfortable and normal conversation with him. After I’d poured us both a mug, I continued to interrogate him for the better part of the hour on everything that happened while I’d been at the wedding.

  From what he said, everything seemed pretty normal. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing for Bianca, but I was happy things didn’t totally implode while I was gone.

  “Sales are still down,” he said at the end. “I know we’re way in the red.”

  I nodded, having a hard time admitting the truth of our circumstances. “Ezra doesn’t want this restaurant to fail,” I promised. “That’s why he brought me in.”

  “I realize that, I’m just… hesitant to believe that you can help.” When he realized what he said, he added a quick, but insincere, “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Lie. “I get your point.” Truth. “But I have a game plan. Starting with updating this menu. It’s so outdated and run of the mill. I’m disappointed in my brother for letting it stay as long as it has.”

  “Ashlynn and I came up with it,” he admitted.

  “Oh.” I had the strongest urge to murmur no offense, but that wasn’t necessarily the truth. Instead, I looked him in the eye and said, “You’re a better chef than that menu. This whole kitchen is better than this.”

  “Well, I, uh—”

  “Did Ezra ever come in and help you out?”

  The tips of his ears turned red. “Every once in a while.”

  “Blaze, for real, if Ezra can cook it, it’s too easy.” At Blaze’s half smile, I added, “He thinks he’s an amazing chef, but we both know he’s barely competent. I get that we have to indulge him every once in a while, but my goal is to make the menu complex enough that he can’t come back here and mess things up.”

  Blaze folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Okay, I can get on board with that.”

  “I have this vision…” I’d been working on it all weekend. Strangely enough, the night at Vann’s that I could barely remember sparked the concept.

  “I want to simplify everything.”

  His brows furrowed together. “I thought you said you wanted to make things more complex?”

  I waved a hand in the air, swiping away the opposing ideas. “I want both to be honest. Complex in the way that we’re making the best food possible. But I want it to be clean, simple and stand out. Right now, Ezra has the menu swamped with fussy French dishes that most people can recognize. I want to go in the opposite direction and make the ingredients the superstars, not French tradition.”

  “Okay, I think I’m tracking with you…”

  “Our motto will be casual French. We’ll get rid of the beef Bourguignon and foie gras and coq au vin. I don’t want escargot anywhere near this place. And we’ll replace the heavy, typical, pedestrian dishes with savory crepes and perfectly seared hanger steak with a tarragon crème sauce, the best charcuterie in the city with wine pairings and scallop croquettes.” I thought about how our scallops were doing recently. “Or maybe we keep the scallops the way they are and do a white fish croquette. I don’t know, these are just some ideas I’ve been playing around with.”

  “What about a cassoulet? We could use pork belly or duck confit or something trendy and interesting?”

  “Yes! That! Simple flavor profiles cooked to perfection. I want this to be the most elegant and least intimidating meal Durham has ever seen. Does that make sense?”

  He took a minute to think over my vision. I started to worry that it didn’t make sense, when he took a deep breath and nodded eagerly. “You’re making French food accessible to anyone. Giving it a casual atmosphere. Taking the stuffiness out of it.”

  I could have sworn my grin reached both ears. “Exactly! I’m taking the stuffiness out of it. Out of Bianca.”

  “I think it’s brilliant. And the perfect way to get the public interested in eating here again.” He snapped his fingers, a thought just occurring to him. “We could do half-price board and wine nights. Maybe only for happy hour or do it the whole night or whatever. People would come in by the droves for good charcuterie and cheap wine.”

  “Blaze, that’s an amazing idea!” I grabbed his bicep and shook it like a crazy person. “You’re getting me more and more excited by the minute.”

  “This is a great idea, Chef. Seriously, it’s exactly what we need.”

  Now that he was on board with this idea, I had to sell him on the actually crazy thought I’d had after all of my bridal brunches over the weekend.

  “Okay, there’s something else. And this might be off the rails, so feel free to tell me I’m totally bonkers. I mean, I might still make you do it. But you have permission to tell me I’m straight up crazy.”

  “You’re making me nervous.”

  I laughed, but it was slightly hysterical. “Right now, we’re only open for supper. But we’re open for supper every day of the week. I’m thinking about closing on Mondays, making the supper hours more exclusive.”

  “Have you talked to your brother about that?” He didn’t look convinced at all.

  “Annnnnd.” I tried not to laugh at the nervous look on his face. “What if we closed for supper on Saturday and Sunday nights. And instead opened up those mornings to brunch.”

  “Wait, what?”

  I explained again, slower this time. “We do a French brunch instead of supper on the weekends. We could do more varieties of crepes and quiche and Austrian pancakes and a wide selection of pastries. We could offer some fruity, breakfast-y cocktails. And bring back a breakfast charcuterie with a cold meat, baguette and brie plate.”

  “It’s different…”

  “And there’s nothing like it in this section of the city. I did some research and drove around this morning. There are no dine-in breakfast spots around. We’d be the only one.”

  “Do you think it could supplement losing Saturday and Sunday night?”

  “We’re within walking distance of three churches and a strip mall. Okay, the strip mall is a bit of a drive, but not much. Plus, they’re building that apartment complex and movie theater not far from here. We make money on the weekends, but not enough. I think a brunch would amplify our presence and bring in a new set of consumers. It would be up to us to make the dinner option good enough for people to want to spend their money here all week long and to make the brunch option good enough tha
t we could make up for the loss of Saturday night. But I think we can do it.”

  He still didn’t look convinced. And I couldn’t blame him. Changing up a menu was infinitely easier than going from supper to brunch two days of the week. But I had the best feeling about it. And as it stood right now, Bianca was drowning.

  If I didn’t do something drastic, we might lose her completely. And then what would I do? I didn’t think anyone would hire a head chef right after she bombed her last restaurant. Honestly, outside of my brother, there wasn’t a restaurant on the planet that would hire me for another EC job. I just wasn’t qualified for the position.

  I could go back to sous chef somewhere. But I had the itchy feeling, now that I’d accepted this job, I had officially overqualified myself for the rest of the positions I was actually qualified for.

  Which made me highly motivated to get Bianca back on her feet.

  “Have you talked to Ezra about any of this?” Blaze asked, hesitation loud and clear in his tone.

  Showing some teeth in my smile, I said, “I’m not Wyatt. Ezra gives me whatever I want. If I decide to take Bianca in this direction, it’s only a matter of when.” He flinched at the truth in my words and I knew I had to soften the news before I lost him completely. “But I can’t accomplish any of this without you and the rest of the staff. If you’re not on board with any of this, speak now or forever hold your peace. I can’t do this without you, Blaze.”

  His expression softened as he looked around the kitchen he’d worked in way longer than me. “If you really think it will work, I’m willing to try anything.” When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were full of hope and gravity and concern. “What happens if it doesn’t work?”

  “We could call it a trial run,” I suggested, wanting to give him a tangible solution. “And we could switch back to dinner any time we wanted.” He nodded slowly. “Or we could just work our asses off and make our own success.”

  A small, confident smile broke free on his face. “I like that second option the most.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “You are the actual best, Blaze!”

  His smile grew. “You know you’re not like any other EC out there right?”

  It was my turn to smile and be filled with something like hope and gravity and fear. “Is that a good thing?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  He was right about that. But by the time the rest of the staff had filtered in and I’d pitched my vision to everyone, it felt like more than a dream. It felt like a possibility.

  I brought in the white board I’d picked up at Walmart on the way into work and turned the morning meeting into a brainstorming session, letting everyone from sous chef to dishwasher give me their ideas.

  Granted, they weren’t all amazing ideas. But there were plenty of good ones.

  I had been concerned most about switching hours from evening to morning, but the general consensus was excitement that they might get a night off every once in a while. To be honest, I was excited about the same thing.

  From a competing business standpoint, I believed our take on brunch would give Bianca something special, something that Ezra’s other restaurants didn’t have. Something that no restaurant nearby had.

  After the weekend, I was hyper-focused on making Bianca succeed. My personal life felt like a failure at this point. I wouldn’t let Bianca self-destruct too. I was working at taping my heart back together after the wedding, but in the meantime, I was wholly throwing myself into this restaurant and her success.

  For selfish reasons, my conversation with Vann had really done a number on me. True, I still needed to figure out what I wanted. And I wasn’t sure that was necessarily Vann. But I also wasn’t Kaya who accidentally fell in love, but would have ignored relationships forever as long as she had her job.

  This job, Bianca, was important to me. But I couldn’t let it be everything. If I wanted a relationship, or at least a steady dating life, then I had to make space for it. I had to have courage for it.

  But first I needed to put out the dumpster fire that was this restaurant. Then I would tackle my love life mess.

  Another drunken memory from my night with Vann popped into my head, followed quickly by a sultry shiver down my spine.

  “You fucked that up,” I whispered to myself when I was alone in my kitchen. “Time to move on.”

  There were other guys out there.

  Liar, my heart argued.

  Not like Vann, my brain agreed.

  * * *

  The next morning, I met Molly at her gym. She had a guest pass waiting and a scowl on her face.

  “You better love this class,” she growled at me.

  I’d never known her to be a grumpy person. But then again, I’d never interacted with her before coffee. “I love you. Does that count?”

  Her glare turned dangerous.

  I smiled wider.

  She led the way to the women’s locker room. “I don’t know what spawned this evil desire to get sweaty first thing in the morning, but Vera always buys me McDonalds afterwards.” I started to gag at the very thought of eating that cheap, greasy trash when she spun around and pointed a stern finger at me. “And don’t you dare talk bad about the greatest breakfast place in the land or I will leave you here to die on your own!”

  “The dramatics are truly outstanding this morning.”

  I glanced up to see Vann standing outside the girls’ locker room dressed in running shorts and a sweaty gray t-shirt.

  It was a straight up miracle I didn’t trip over my own feet and faceplant. What was he doing here?

  Molly groaned and rubbed her face, “I’m sorry, Dillon. Honestly, I think I’m still hungover from the wedding.”

  Vann gave her a look. “I didn’t realize you were bringing a guest.”

  Molly blinked at him. “Is Dillon considered a guest?”

  “I gained like four pounds this weekend,” I rushed to explain and then resisted the urge to slap a hand over my mouth. Why had I admitted that? Why couldn’t I have said something about getting in shape? Or wanting to try a new gym? Or anything that didn’t involve my flab-ifying midsection?

  “Ugh, me too,” Molly agreed. “Which is why I’m here. Now it’s my turn to fit into a wedding dress and I don’t have the excuse of being pregnant.”

  “Although if you really wanted to, you could.” I grinned at her, warming up to the idea of having a niece or nephew. Sure, I was excited for Vera and Killian, but Molly’s baby would be related to me. “I mean I don’t think it’s hard.”

  She tilted her head, not looking amused. “But then who would you drag to spin class at the butt crack of dawn?”

  Vann and I accidentally looked at each other and then quickly looked anywhere else. “Oh, I’m sure I could find somebody…”

  “You wouldn’t,” she assured me. “Vann is the only person crazy enough to want to go to spin class, but he doesn’t do nice things for anybody.”

  “That’s not true.” My defense for him was out of my mouth before I could think better of it. I accidentally looked at him again, but this time he didn’t look away, so I had to first. “I mean, that’s not a nice thing to say, Molls. Surely, he’s nice to people. Other people. At least his sister.”

  “No, she’s right,” he said. “He’s not nice to anyone. Not even his sister. Or her annoying best friend.” He started to walk past us, shooting an indecipherable look my way. “Or her best friend’s friends either.”

  I couldn’t help but stare at his back, and okay, his toned butt, as he walked away, a towel slung over his straight, proud shoulders.

  And we were back to the beginning. Where he found me annoying again. That was fun.

  “Sorry, about him,” Molly said, leading me all the way into the locker room this time. “He won’t admit that he’s a bear before coffee, but he can be really grumpy.”

  “I get that. No worries.”

  She turned to face me while I took off my sweatshirt and threw
my hair in a ponytail. “I thought you guys were getting pretty close though. I saw you dancing at the wedding.”

  I stood up from tying my shoe. I figured I could level with her. “We did dance at the wedding. And we kind of got to know each other.” And slept together. “But I don’t know… he’s a tough cookie.”

  She frowned and looked at the door as if he would reappear and give us all the answers. “True. But… I don’t know, he seemed to open up with you.”

  “Not really,” I assured her. “I feel like I barely know him at all.”

  “He danced with you in front of his dad and sister, so that means something. He hasn’t even brought a girl home to meet Vera or their dad in years. He’s like super weird about getting girls’ hopes up or letting them meet his family.”

  That was all news to me. Hope bloomed inside me and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Did I want to be the girl that got special treatment from Vann? Did I want to be the girl he was willing to introduce to his dad.

  Not that he did. But we did dance in front of all our family and friends. That could mean something.

  All I managed to say to Molly was, “Huh.”

  “If you like him, don’t give up on him, okay?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She stopped for a second to look me in the eyes and grip my hands. “He’s a good guy, Dillon. A great guy. And he deserves someone wonderful. He might be prickly around the edges, but once you get to know him, you’ll see that he’s like the most generous person you’ll ever meet. And he’s secretly funny and kind and super loyal. I’m just saying, even if he’s giving you the stay away vibes right now, clearly there was something there over the weekend. Don’t give up.”

  I opened my mouth. And then I shut it. Then I opened it again, hoping something neutral would come out. I tried blinking, but that didn’t help either. Finally, after she’d started to look at me funny, I came up with a profound, “Duly noted.”

  Her smile was still sleepy, but it was also knowing. She saw way too much for not having a cup of coffee. “Okay,” she said, grabbing her towel. “Are you ready to die?”