The Something about Her: Opposites Attract book four

by Higginson, Rachel

“Sounds like there was a lot going on,” he noted.

  “There was,” I agreed, unable to meet his eyes. “A lot going on.”

  His hand shot out and grabbed mine, holding it gently in his. He bent his knees so that we were eye level. His gentle grasp and the thumb rubbing over my knuckles coaxed me to look at him. “I’m sorry you had to go through a rough time, Dillon. I’m sorrier you thought you had to cope that way.”

  I found that I couldn’t swallow. Or retract my hand. Or do anything but sway closer to him. “I-it-it’s not your fault. I didn’t even know you then.”

  He held my gaze. “Regardless. I’m sorry life was so awful for you. I’m sorry your dad died. I’m sorry that you felt the only way to fix any of it was to drink or party or whatever. I’m sorry for all of it.”

  What I really wanted to do was throw my arms around him and cry into his neck. I wanted him to hold me for the next seven years while my heart healed and my mind unfragmented and all the memories of that lifestyle died.

  Instead of acknowledging his kindness or how much his words had affected me, I took a step back and tossed my purse to the passenger side. “I need to go.”

  “Runner,” he whispered, and I knew he was smiling before I even looked at him.

  “So what if I am?” I asked, finally understanding what he meant.

  He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking too adorable for his own good. “I’m just glad to know it’s not my skills in bed.”

  I leaned back toward him, relishing the flirty space we’d found again. “It might be though. You don’t really know, do you?”

  His smile died and his signature frown took its place. “No, I guess I don’t.”

  I stepped back, getting as close to the car as possible. “I’m saying… Maybe you shouldn’t say no to free advice.”

  His concerned gaze turned into a very serious frown. “Are you saying you remember?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to admit that it didn’t matter if I did. He’d broken my celibacy streak but that didn’t mean I was ready to make it a regular thing. “Sorry.” I shrugged and inched closer to my car. “Good thing you’re not looking for a nice girl.”

  He followed me, leaning into the car door—the only thing between us. “You’re not a nice girl, Dillon.”

  That shiver was back, rolling down my spine and bringing heat with it. “That’s not what you said before.”

  “I was wrong.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and dropped to my driver’s seat, afraid of what would happen if we kept talking. “Bye, Vann.”

  “Bye, Dillon.”

  I drove away from Ezra’s apartment feeling completely unsettled. My emotions warred inside my chest. And in my head.

  This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t playing fair.

  He’d told me I was a nice girl and he wasn’t interested in nice girls. He’d said that. Not me.

  So, when I dropped my guard, it was under that assumption—that he wasn’t interested in me. And now what was he saying? That he did like me?

  My hands tightened around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “I like him too,” I told the empty car.

  Duh.

  Sometimes I had to say the most obvious things out loud before I believed them. But the truth was, I liked Vann. I really liked him.

  But so, what? I’d had crushes since… since I stopped dating. They’d never pursued me like this though. They’d never gotten me to sleep with them.

  They’d never crawled so completely beneath my skin all I could think about was them.

  Was it worth trying something with Vann?

  What if I just… went for it?

  I used to be spontaneous. I used to be wild and reckless and devil-may-care.

  And it had gotten me into trouble. When I’d walked away from that lifestyle, I promised myself I would never do anything haphazardly again. I would never jump into something without gauging how deep the water was. I would never walk out on a limb without knowing if it could hold me. I would never just act and hope it worked out.

  Never again.

  Bianca was the closest thing I’d done in the last six years to an uncalculated risk, but I’d been weighing my options for almost the same amount of time. Even if the final decision was sort of thrust on me, it had been an internal conversation for years.

  And what about Vann? Surely I didn’t need another six years to decide if I wanted to take a chance on him or not.

  He was a risk—the biggest kind.

  But was he worth it?

  My mind said no. My mind remembered the consequences from my life before. My mind knew how badly men could hurt, how easily they could destroy.

  My heart argued a different story.

  There was just something about him that I wanted more of. I couldn’t help it. Vann Delane was different. And I wanted to get to know everything about him.

  Including what he was really like in bed.

  Eighteen

  Vann was everywhere after that. Or maybe I hadn’t noticed him before. Maybe he’d been in my life for a while, but I’d been so focused on surviving that I hadn’t paid attention to him.

  Regardless, he was here now.

  When Vera and Killian got back from their honeymoon, he was at the airport to greet them. When I joined Molly for spin class three mornings a week, he was there. When I went to the organic grocery store near my house, he was there. Picking up more oranges.

  And the worst part? It was impossible to ignore the man. Not when he looked so adorably happy to see his sister. Or so deliciously sweaty after an hour of medieval-leg-and-butt-torture. And especially not when he carefully picked out his oranges, bringing each one to his nose and smelling them to make sure he was getting a good one.

  Trust me, I tried to ignore him. And pretend I didn’t see him. But it was impossible. He was everywhere.

  But most especially he was in my bones, in my very blood.

  Because even when I didn’t see him, I thought about him.

  I thought about him in the morning, when I woke up way earlier than I wanted to. I thought about him during prep, when I would have to get tough with an employee or make a hard decision. I thought about him when I went home to a lonely bed and empty apartment. I thought about him when I got a hit on my online dating app that Kaya had set me up with a year ago and I never used, and it wasn’t him.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  The only time I managed to think about anything else was when I was planning the dishes for our soon-to-open brunch menu. Then, and only then, could I wrap my head around grilled asparagus wrapped in paper thin slices of heirloom tomatoes and rich prosciutto. He couldn’t infiltrate my poached egg in sourdough with sriracha hollandaise and everything bagel seasoning. Nor could he come close to my version of a croque madame with grapefruit jelly, crispy pork belly, creamy comté, and an over easy egg on brioche.

  Casual French food was the only thing saving my life right now. Both personally and professionally.

  I glanced at Cycle Life as I crossed the street in front of it. Lilou was currently having some work done to the parking lot, so I’d been forced to park my car closer to Vann’s shop than the restaurant I needed to borrow lettuce from.

  All romaine lettuce was currently confiscated as nationwide outbreaks of E. Coli rocked the food industry. People were getting sick like crazy and all romaine had gone through an emergency recall.

  Since we’d quickly thrown all our lettuce away, I was currently on the hunt for substitutes. Thankfully, due to a clerical error and Wyatt’s hunt for a better sous chef than Benny who made the clerical error, they had ordered an obscene amount of butter lettuce. Which he graciously offered to share with me at the low, low price of my eternal soul.

  When I had refused to sell my non-physical body parts to him, he’d said, “Okay, then just come back and be my sous chef again so I’m not stuck with so much fucking butter lettuce. I’m contemplating lighting it all on fire.
”

  When I’d said, “That much, huh?”

  He’d replied with a casual, “Maybe I’ll light Benny on fire instead.”

  Which led me to rushing over in hopes that I could take some of the dreaded butter lettuce off Wyatt’s hands and save Benny from being burned at the stake.

  I was also checking out Cycle Life to see if Vann was anywhere to be seen, while keeping a low profile and working the totally aloof angle.

  Basically, I was looking anywhere but where I was going. And that was a tragedy. Because one second, I was playing the role of super spy while I walked casually down the sidewalk in Louboutin Mary Janes I would never usually wear to work and a sun dress that flared in all the best spots. And the next second, my arms flew wildly in the air as I totally biffed it.

  I was pretty sure I screamed too.

  Because one could not fall the way I just had, my dress going up over my head, my knees meeting the pavement with a hard thwack and my palms following shortly after, without screaming bloody murder.

  This was Molly’s fault. Because of my crazy schedule, we’d met for breakfast to go over our marketing plan. And then news of the romaine had come in the form of a panicked text from Blaze, causing me to swing into Bianca instead of going home to change first. Now I was at Lilou—well, almost to Lilou—and my timeline was shrinking.

  And I twisted my ankle.

  Damn, that hurt!

  I gingerly picked myself up from my sprawled position and attempted to untangle my ankle. It didn’t budge.

  “What the hell?”

  Attempt number two of standing up, didn’t go any better. I looked back to see the stupidly pointy heel of my shoe trapped in a cut out on the manhole cover I’d just walked over.

  Pulling my leg harder proved futile. I was well and truly stuck.

  I would have to unstrap my shoe to get it out. But I’d have to stand up to do that. Argh! This was what I got for dressing up before work.

  If I didn’t get this butter lettuce situation taken care of soon, I was going to have to cook in these bad boys.

  Which might have been fine, if they weren’t currently pissing me the hell off!

  “Son of a bitch,” I hissed at the ground as I slowly pulled myself to standing on my free foot. “Son of a bitch!” I snarled, when I started to tip over again.

  What was with this manhole cover? And how had I found the one hole to stick my shoe into on the entire city block?

  “Dillon?”

  Slamming my eyes shut, I turned away from the voice that belonged to the man jogging my way. This was not the way I wanted to capture his attention. Or anyone’s attention.

  There was only one way to play this—like I wasn’t totally trapped in the manhole. Where was my I’m fine personality that everyone knew and loved?

  “H-hey, Vann.”

  He was in front of me a second later. “Are you okay? I saw you fall.”

  My cheeks burned red. Of course, he had.

  “I-I’m fine.”

  He gave me a look, showing that he didn’t believe me. Not even a little bit. And he was right. My palms and knees burned and by the trickling liquid feel running down my leg, I had an awful suspicion I was bleeding. Plus, there was my shoe—still stuck.

  He took a step back, his eyes roaming over my body, finally landing on my stupid, expensive shoe. “Are you stuck?”

  I casually tried to twist the heel out. Maybe if I relaxed, the hole would loosen its grip.

  Nope.

  If anything, I managed to make it more stuck.

  “A little,” I confessed.

  Vann’s lips twitched with the urge to laugh. “Can I help?”

  A frustrated sigh escaped my lips before I could temper it. “Sure. I guess.”

  That look was there—the one that called me on my bullshit. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he dropped to his knees, his warm hands wrapping around my calf and ankle.

  My core clenched as warmth spread where his hands moved over me. I cleared my throat, hoping he didn’t notice how his touch was making me react.

  He tugged on my leg and my ego was somewhat soothed when it didn’t immediately release. His hand moved up to the back of my thigh, the other one sliding down toward my ankle. I held my breath, trying to ignore the contrast of his gentle touch and rough, calloused palms.

  He looked up at me and smiled. “It’s really stuck.”

  I blinked at him, taking in the way the sun caressed his dark hair, and sharp angles of his face. I wanted to reach down and brush my fingers over his cheekbone. “I’m aware,” I said instead.

  “Hold on to me.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to tug it out, but I don’t want you to lose your balance again. So, hold onto me.”

  “O-okay.”

  I did as he commanded, resting my hands on the tops of his broad shoulders. He did some magic with my shoe and leveraging my leg and this time when he tugged, my heel popped free.

  The momentum of it propelled me forward, despite my loose grasp on Vann and I started to flail again. He managed to catch me by grabbing a tighter hold on the backs of my thighs and steadying me.

  And there we stood for several long moments. Me standing above him, my hands now gripping his muscular shoulders. Him, on his knees, his arms hidden beneath the skirt of my dress, his hands clutching the backs of my thighs, just below my bum.

  My mouth dried out and my entire body flushed. But it wasn’t from embarrassment.

  This man and his touch and the intimate way he looked at me, did things to my resolve. Things that hadn’t been done in a long time.

  “You’re bleeding,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “Your knees are bleeding.”

  I shook my head, coming back to my senses. “Oh.”

  “I can help with that.”

  Our gazes had locked, the heat from his licking its way over my body, erasing my embarrassment and building a fire within me. “What?”

  “I can help with the bleeding,” he repeated. His hands squeezed my thighs for the briefest moment before he stood up and took a step back. “I have a kit in my office.”

  “A bleeding kit?”

  His lips twitched again. And it was absolutely devastating this close. “A first aid kit.”

  That made more sense. “I’m sure I’m fine. I’ll just, er, walk it off.” I tried to take a step and wobbled. “Owie,” I whimpered like a total weenie.

  “How about you let me help you. It’s what I’m good at.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and took my arm in his other hand, helping me hobble across the parking lot toward his storefront.

  “You’re good at helping people?” I asked, letting the sarcasm and disbelief seep into my tone. I wasn’t trying to torture him, but to be honest, I was so far out of my comfort zone, that I didn’t know how to talk to him without being defensively sarcastic. I just needed for this embarrassing moment to end.

  This was by far the worst he’d seen me to date.

  “Helping you specifically,” he clarified. “It’s becoming my super power.”

  I shot him a side look. “Is that so?”

  “You should start hiring me to spot you from now on. I’ll just follow you around all day, waiting for you to get yourself into trouble.”

  I nearly choked on my spit, totally embarrassed all over again. “What would that solve?”

  “Then I’d already be there, and you wouldn’t have to call me.”

  He held open the door to his store and I limped inside, the air conditioning instantly cooling my skin and forcing goosebumps to appear. “But why can’t you save me before I get into trouble? That seems like something I would actually pay for.”

  “Good point,” he laughed. “I’ll spot you and save you before you need saving. I’m going to be really busy.”

  He walked me through the open space of his store, dodging expensive bike displays and power bar stands and a circular rack of spandex. I tried to mem
orize every detail. He’d managed this cool vibe that I didn’t expect in a sports equipment store. But somehow it was all raw and urban while also smart and intuitive. Vann’s shop was completely badass. It immediately made me want to take home a bike for myself.

  Which was totally insane because I could barely manage spin class.

  Clearly, he knew what he was doing in the store.

  “You know, I managed just fine before you came along. Somehow I lasted all twenty-seven years of my life without needing someone to save me.” Okay, that wasn’t entirely true, but I’d survived, hadn’t I?

  He shot me a look, but it was ruined by his wide smile. “It’s no fun to save yourself though. It honestly sounds exhausting.”

  He was joking. But he was right.

  It was exhausting to save myself. And worse when I failed. There were a lot of moments in my past that I didn’t regret. They weren’t the brightest spots in my journey, but they had helped shape me into the person I was today.

  But the big thing. The one that made all other moments small in comparison, was crippling in heaviness. It wore me down to my bones. It pushed me into bed and made me want to stay there forever. And then it followed me in my dreams and woke me up at the earliest promise of daylight.

  My hands shook and my knees knocked whenever I thought about it and all I wanted to do was pull into myself and forget that it happened. Forget that I had needed someone to save me that night and had no one. Forget that this was the person I was now, distrusting, scared, vulnerable.

  There was the Dillon before the event.

  And there was the Dillon after.

  What I hated most, was that the people I knew preferred the Dillon after. She was more responsible. She kept a steady job. She had goals and aspirations and the beginning stages of a marketing plan.

  They didn’t know how much I’d given up to be this person. They didn’t know the price I paid to realize the need for a new Dillon.

  Vann noticed the shift in my mood. His eyebrows drew down in concern. “Hey, where did you go?”

  I closed my eyes at the sensation of his fingers brushing hair back from my cheek and tucking it behind my ear. “I was thinking.”

  “About what?”