The Something about Her: Opposites Attract book four

by Higginson, Rachel

  But I was starting to wonder if the biggest thing Vann was going to rescue me from was myself.

  Nineteen

  It turned out that I didn’t have a break in my schedule for another two weeks. So in between our busy and opposite schedules, we barely had time to chat on the phone, let alone see each other. Our relationship, or whatever you wanted to call what we were doing, was reduced to flirtatious texting and five a.m. spin class. During which, I could hardly be called flirty.

  Although Vann had taken to riding the bike behind mine. He enjoyed the view apparently.

  I continued wearing the tightest leggings I had. And no underwear.

  We grew more comfortable with each other in the absence though. The late-night texting and early morning, sleepy-selfies made me lower my guard. Having sex with Vann, even while I was drunk, had opened this door to a possibility of a relationship with him. But now that we were talking about a date and not seeing each other, texting was opening the possibility of getting to know him without the pressure of sex.

  It didn’t make sense to my logical concept of how relationships worked. Sleeping with the guy and then getting to know him? That wasn’t normal. But it was working for me. It had removed the crushing fear I had been living with for years.

  By the morning of our date, I was ready to get some face-to-gorgeous-handsome-clean-cut-face time in.

  I wrapped my hair up in a meticulous messy bun and checked out my outfit in the mirror on my bathroom door. In tune with our unconventional relationship, for our first date Vann was taking me on a bike ride.

  Frowning at my reflection, I contemplated changing. This was not how I liked to look on first dates. I was always glam to the max. Sassy shoes. Big hair. All the makeup. Something that made the guy think WOW. Or DAMN. Or anything along those lines.

  Today’s outfit said, “I tried a little harder than morning spin class.”

  Not my best look. Still, I knew Vann would appreciate comfort over va-va-voom. And I could appreciate that about him.

  My hair was twisted and tied in a complicated network of pieced out layers. My makeup was the waterproof variety. And my sports bra and halter workout top were supportive and not sexy in any way.

  I did stick with the tight, light gray leggings and no underwear though. I might regret my decisions later, but I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. For now, I was shooting for “Don’t forget I’m a girl when I totally kick your ass on the trails today.”

  My phone buzzed on my unmade bed. I forced myself to stop fiddling with my hair and read the text.

  I’m here. Can I come up?

  I smiled at my phone and shot him a quick text back with the apartment number and directions to my front door. Then I walked to the entryway and buzzed him in.

  There was this giddiness to my day. And it was strange and wonderful and at war with a hundred different emotions inside me. I had never had this with a boy before. I had never been so completely head over heels. I had never felt this safe. I had never known a relationship could be this fun.

  Which sounded ridiculously pathetic. Especially for someone who was already twenty-seven. I had given up on men being worthy and upright and kind.

  Other than Ezra and Killian and Wyatt, I didn’t even know men could be this… likeable.

  All the men in my life, from high school till now, had wanted something from me. My dad had wanted a trophy he could show off at parties. The guys I’d dated before culinary school had wanted sex. Or my money. Or my connections. But mainly sex. And they wanted it so badly, they would do anything to get it from me.

  Or they would just take it from me. Whether I wanted to give it up or not.

  Okay, to be honest, that only happened the one time. But I would never go through that again.

  Never.

  I waited for the stubborn resolve to push Vann away, to get him out of my life. It was how I coped. It was how I protected myself. Instead of opening myself up to being hurt like that again, I pushed people away.

  And then I made sure they stayed away.

  How was it that Vann was on his way up to my apartment now?

  The knock at the door shook me out of my thoughts, but even as I opened it, I couldn’t make myself sabotage this morning. I wanted to hang out with Vann. I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to ride bikes and enjoy the outdoors with him. Which in itself seemed crazy.

  Whatever it was about Vann, made me want to try. And as strange and unlike me as that seemed, I was just going to go with it.

  My therapist might even call this a breakthrough.

  He was clad in spandex head to toe and if he wasn’t so adorable I would have laughed. Okay, I did laugh. But not hard enough that he ran away.

  “What?” he asked, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

  “It’s just that…” I giggled again and slapped a hand over my mouth. “I wasn’t expecting Lance Armstrong this morning.”

  He took three menacing steps toward me, trapping me against the wall. His lips descended on my throat, kissing and nibbling while he growled something about how Lance Armstrong was a traitor to the sport.

  Obviously, I laughed harder. Also, he was now tickling me!

  “I’m sorry!” I gasped for breath. “You’re not Lance Armstrong!”

  He lifted his head, but his hands stayed planted on my ribcage, dangerously close to my breasts. “I appreciate that.”

  Letting my eyes drift over him again, I had a change of heart toward the whole ensemble. His legs were thick and strong and muscled like none I’d ever seen before. And his chest and arms were no different. He wasn’t bulky like body builders. But there was a thickness to his muscles that showed they had seen lots of exercise.

  This man took care of his body. God, had that ever been sexier?

  Or maybe it was just that working in the food industry had significantly lowered my expectations of the male form. Sure, there were guys like Wyatt, Killian, and Blaze that took care of themselves. But there were also the other kind of men—the ones that didn’t find time to work out and succumbed to the endless beer and carbs.

  Not that I was judging them.

  I’d gained like three pounds since taking over Bianca. Between the overworked schedule and stress, my coping mechanism consisted of cheese and red meat. Hence my fresh commitment to spin class.

  I wasn’t out of shape. I took care of myself for the most part if you ignored the part about the cheese and red meat. But I had nothing on Vann. He was like a perfect specimen of the male body. And I wanted to get to know him inch by delicious inch.

  His gaze warmed and one of his hands moved its way up my body to cradle my face. “Hey.”

  It was too easy to get lost in those gray eyes. “Hey.”

  “It’s good to see you this morning,” he murmured, his head dipping with intent.

  “It’s been a while,” I agreed.

  “We should probably do this more often.”

  My belly flipped with the way he sounded so into me. I wasn’t used to this. I couldn’t remember a time when someone had been so interested in spending time with me. Like it was the only thing he wanted to do. “Oh yeah?” I laughed.

  “Then I might be able to keep my hands to myself,” he explained. “I’m just thinking about you. I’m trying to be nice.”

  I pitched forward, bringing our bodies flush against each other. “Maybe I like when your hands are all over me.”

  He smiled and it was everything bright and beautiful. Like the sunlight hovering just below his thunderstorm gray eyes. “Then maybe we should compromise. I see you more. And you get to have my hands all over you. Fair?”

  I nodded, feeling breathless and totally swept away. “Fair.”

  Then we kissed. And kissed. And kissed. I got more of his hands. And more of his mouth. And forget cycling and spandex and nature trails.

  This was what I wanted all day and all night.

  But he apparently didn’t. Because despite my
best efforts at seduction, he pulled away. Our foreheads touched while he stood there trying to catch his breath.

  “Woman,” he growled. “You are some kind of magic.”

  My heart burst. Just like that. It exploded.

  Okay, maybe not literally. But holy hell, there was something about him I just couldn’t resist.

  I slumped against him, loving the feel of our frantic hearts beating against each other and the way his silky spandex felt against my exposed skin. But he wouldn’t even let that last forever.

  Apparently, he was playing hard to get.

  He kissed my forehead and stepped back. “I came all the way up here,” he teased. “I might as well snoop.”

  “What?”

  He started walking around my apartment, picking up random things from my kitchen counters and inspecting them.

  I had a gigantic kitchen. It was why I’d picked this place. And the island was the centerpiece of the entire open space. It arced in a long line of gleaming quartz, set against the backdrop of my navy blue cabinets. My vintage appliances and metal stools made it picture worthy.

  The only regret I had was that I didn’t get to spend more time in it.

  But now that the schedule at Bianca was about to change… that might change too.

  He whistled when he opened my double oven and peered inside. Turning around he took in the inset living room with a wide-open view of downtown Durham. There was a pretty terrace outside the long wall of picture windows, covered in green plants that my housecleaner kept alive for me.

  I was suddenly embarrassed of my extravagant pad. I knew Vann was self-employed and I also knew that was hard. Running a small business was one of the hardest things on the planet. Success was only managed with grit and grind and endless amounts of tenacity.

  There was always that combination of hard work, the right opportunity and just enough good luck that could launch a small business owner into happy success and autonomy. But at the same time, it wasn’t easily-earned success. Or easily kept. You would always have to work. There would never be a break. You could never just take it easy and breathe a little. Or have weekends and major holidays off. Or even sick days. And just as often as things could be great and busy, they could be slow and stretched.

  Watching Vera and Killian open their own restaurant from the front row had been incredibly eye-opening. Owning their restaurant had added a heavy layer of stress. Even Vera felt it, and she had been the sole proprietor of Foodie the food truck. A restaurant was an entirely different beast. Especially when it was the caliber they were shooting for.

  When I met Vann’s intense gaze, his eyebrows were raised expectantly. “Quite the place, Baptiste.”

  I wrapped my arms around my waist protectively and shrugged. “Did I forget to mention that I’m an heiress?”

  His mouth broke into a huge grin. “I picked the wrong first date.”

  Nerves dropped in my stomach like a boulder off a mountain. I hated, loathed, detested when guys thought they had to prove themselves to me. It was the fastest way on the planet to turn me off.

  I took a step back, feeling my skin turn white. “Oh?” I managed weakly.

  “I should have made you take us to Cancun or something,” he said, laughing.

  The tightly wound tension I’d managed to work up in thirty seconds disappeared just like that. He wasn’t going to try to compete with my accidental wealth. Whew.

  It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t I tell you? I only take the guys I really like to Cancun for our first date.”

  He folded his arms, a challenge flickering over his face. “So, we are going.” I tilted my head in confusion and he added, “You said, you only take the guys you really like to Cancun. So… when does our plane leave exactly? I should probably pack a few things.”

  I shook my head at him, but couldn’t help but walk toward him, pulled in by that invisible gravity that kept me trapped in his orbit. “You think I like you a lot?”

  He nodded. “It’s obvious.”

  “You’re so full of yourself.”

  His straight-face was in danger of becoming one of those huge grins I loved so much. “It’s okay though. I like you too, Dillon.”

  My heart did a herkie in my chest, arms up in the air, cheerleader-style and everything. I practically tripped down the living room stair into his arms and straight into another kiss. How did he keep doing this? Every time I questioned what I was doing or when I would run or what if I didn’t run, he would do something like this that totally reinforced why I was willing to take this chance with him.

  It was like he was showing all these layers that promised I could trust him, promised I could trust my heart with him… promised I could trust my bed with him. He laid layer after layer, careful to make each one perfectly reliable.

  And now we were standing on this steadfast foundation that felt firm… strong… safe.

  It was me that broke our kiss this time, afraid I’d start crying. “Should we go?”

  “Are you ready for this?”

  “I mean, no,” I told him honestly. “I don’t even own a helmet, let alone a bike. I’m the least ready person on the planet.”

  His laugh rippled through me, pulling shivers with it. “I got you a bike. And a helmet.” He eyed the messy bun that had taken me the better part of the morning to construct. “Although, you might have to change up your hairstyle. Sorry if that’s a problem.”

  I shook my head. “It’s no problem.” Apparently, I was willing to do anything for this guy.

  How did one recognize true love? By the female’s willingness to redo her hair.

  Just kidding. This wasn’t true love. It was way too early for that!

  I ignored the protests from all the different emotions and organs inside me. This wasn’t love. Not that it wouldn’t be soon. But we weren’t there yet.

  Ahem.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told him.

  “I packed a picnic too,” he said to my back. “I know this cool spot by a lake. I thought we could take a break for lunch there.”

  His suggestion had me turning around again. “You cooked?”

  He shrugged, self-conscious. “Don’t get your expectations up. I just thought… I don’t know, I’m already making you go on a ride with me. I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

  The puddle on the ground? Yeah, that was where I just melted.

  Out loud I managed a cool, “O-okay. That sounds good.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, I collapsed on the blanket he’d laid out at a serene spot near the lake he’d mentioned. It was every perfect thing he’d promised it would be. This was maybe the most tranquil place I had ever been in my life. I didn’t even know it existed this close to Durham. Or on planet earth in general.

  We’d been riding for a long time. Vann was a total expert on a bicycle, while I trailed behind him and tried not to crash into a tree.

  I had wrongly assumed that because I could survive spin class, I could ride a bike. Through a forest. Also, there was that saying, “Like riding a bike,” which implied that once you learned how to ride a bike, you never forgot.

  What a bunch of bullshit!

  First of all, I didn’t ever remember bike riding being this hard. Ever. Especially not when I was a kid. And I used to ride my bike everywhere. Like all over. I was a total pro between the ages of six and thirteen.

  Fast forward fifteen years and I learned the hard way how advanced brakes had gotten. Also, how sharp pedals were.

  And not to be crass, but this seat wasn’t nearly as nice as the design I’d rocked in elementary. My vintage childhood banana-seat beauty was an entirely different species than what Vann had me on today.

  It was like the difference between a shark and a minnow.

  And I was learning the hard way how to ride a shark.

  But we’d had fun. He’d pulled over a few times to show me some pretty spots in the dense forest or help me figure out things on my bike. Like the
gear shifts. And how not to kill myself every time I tapped on the handlebar brakes.

  And that didn’t even touch how hard of a workout this was. I was just over here huffing and puffing while he casually pulled out our lunch and spread it over the blanket.

  I discreetly checked out his head and body, looking for any signs of sweat. There weren’t any. This man was officially an alien.

  Oh, good Lord, I didn’t even want to know what I looked like to him. My hair had been matted down by the helmet I’d abandoned as soon as we’d stopped riding. My makeup was testing the limits of waterproof and physics and the general rules of the universe. And I was very concerned I smelled bad.

  I knew what I looked like after spin class. It was amazing he hadn’t assumed I was a grizzly bear come to take his lunch.

  Or did that only happen in Yogi Bear cartoons?

  “This place is breathtaking,” I panted, pretending not to pant and that I wasn’t out of breath at all.

  He nodded, but his attention stayed fixed on what his hands were doing. “I found it a few years ago. I come back often.”

  “By yourself?” Fishing much, Dillon? I resisted the urge to slap my hand over my eyes.

  He laughed at my lame attempt to get former dating information out of him. “Mostly. I find I do my best thinking here.” He nodded toward where we’d parked our bikes. “And on one of those.”

  “How’d you get into cycling? Or was it something you’ve always done?”

  He handed me a plate that was so healthy and organized I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Don’t judge me,” he added quickly.

  “For what?”

  He heard the strained tone of my voice and laughed. “You chefs have a serious chip on your shoulder when it comes to eating healthy.”

  “Not true!”

  “Kale chips are delicious. I promise.”

  “And the sandwich? Or… sandwich-like-thing?”

  “It’s a chicken salad lettuce wrap. I used Greek yogurt and sriracha. I promise it’s good.”