“Possibly before you even wake up,” Avi added. It was possible they wouldn’t sleep, given the level of chaos currently going on. Forget rock stars and their trashed hotel rooms – they had nothing on these twins. “Once Route 81 opens back up, we need to head to the city.”
Sarit nodded, a gracious and laidback host. “I’ll set the coffee pot timer tonight. There’s homemade challah and sunflower butter on the counter. Help yourselves.”
When the door closed, Leah called dibs on the top bunk. “All yours, Gellman.” He laughed, knowing it would be a struggle just to fold himself into the lower bunk. “Just don’t sleep strip from up there.”
Avi had a sudden vision of her clothes cascading down, being buried by her jettisoned pajama bottoms. Her top.
Her panties.
He’d climb right up that ladder, so help them both. And would probably break the bed.
Avi swallowed hard, reminding himself of all the reasons this was impossible. The timing, the circumstances, their entire history. It wasn't going to happen—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the way her cheeks pinked just now. Or couldn't flirt. To see how far he could push it until Leah pushed back. He could live with that. He could be content here, in the space between the lines they couldn’t cross.
The flush deepened, spreading, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing. “You wish,” she mumbled, but he caught her biting back a smile. She pulled items from the bag she’d grabbed from the car, including the tell-tale tin and another ornate Mahjong box.
“You plan to keep me up all night playing for rugelach, you…you tile temptress?”
Her laugh rang out, but she quickly muffled it, mindful of the quiet household. “No, I just…I don’t want it to freeze out there. Sarit mentioned she plays. I’ll leave this set as a hostess gift.” She set both on the kid’s desk by the window. “Tile Temptress – that’s got potential for my business name, though. Good one.”
“What can I say? I’m an ideas guy. Speaking of which…” He pulled three glowsticks from his back pocket. “Closest thing to candles?”
“I knew we were forgetting something!” Leah dimmed the lights. “There was a big menorah at the J, you know.”
“Yeah, but…we weren’t there in time to see it lit.” He cracked the yellow stick, and it glowed to life. “Yourshamash, m’lady.”
Leah giggled. “Oh! Wait.” She pulled a tiny paper sack from her bag. “They handed these out at the door as we were leaving.” She set three donut holes on top of the rugelach tin. “Your menorah, good sir.”
Avi carefully worked two glowsticks past the crusty glaze, making sure they were upright before licking his fingers. He felt Leah’s gaze flicker over him, and he couldn't resist leaning into the moment. “I’ve got a sweet tooth for all things Hanukkah,” he confessed, his voice dropping low.
“So I see.” Leah carefully cracked each “candle” stick, turning them neon blue and pink, as Avi touched them with the yellow. Their murmured prayers intertwined in the quiet children’s room.
“Amen…and are there any donuts left?”
“Just one.” Leah split it, and they each savored the small treat in the glow of their makeshift menorah.
“Oh, and happy second night.” She pulled a rolled fabric piece from her overnight bag and tossed it to him.
It was a T-shirt proclaiming RACK N’ ROLL.
“Let me guess. Mahjong thing?”
“Get it? Cuz there’s dice…”
“And racks. Yeah, I remember from this morning’s lesson at the Bit O’ Honey.” He laughed, thinking her T-shirt in the food court. “And no touching, if I recall.”
He shed his hoodie and T-shirt, amused by her trying not to sneak a peek in the dim light.
“Rules are rules.” Her tone was a mix of calculated nonchalance and enthusiasm. “No touching that tin either.”
The rugelach sat on the desk like a silent chaperone as icy rain pelted the windows.
“Well, the Hanukkah rule is, no going to bed until the candles go out,” Avi said, quirking a brow.
Baby Moses in a handmaid’s basket, Avi needed to put on a shirt. They were in a children’s room, for one. And with a sweet, hospitable family drifting off to sleep on the other side of the thin wall. “Avi. Glow juice doesn’t exactly burn out.”
“Chemiluminescence,” he corrected her, venturing closer. “Glow juice.” The scoff, the scruff, the shirtlessness…oy.
“You just made that word up.”
