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Would a little flirtation here be a push too far for CC? She kept her gaze locked with the one across from her, watching for any hesitation. Seeing none, seeing that warm brown heat, Al began to scoot her chair closer.
Only to be interrupted by a knock on the conference room door. “Getting late, isn’t it?” Ted said. He leaned his tall, spindly frame against the doorjamb and turned a pack of cigarettes end over end in his hand. “No one at home waiting for his supper?”
“We’re just hammering out some title issues,” CC said, politely ignoring Ted’s heteronormative misogyny.
“I bet I could make quick work of that,” he offered.
“We’re good,” Al said, eschewing polite for getting rid of this asshole as quickly as possible. “And when we’re done, my personal chef will have dinner waiting for us.”
“Oh.” He pushed off the door and tucked his smokes away. “You’re having dinner together?”
Al couldn’t tell if he was suspicious or judgmental, or both. In any event, she was reckless enough to poke the bear. Might as well get it all out on the table. “Least I could do for CC showing me where to find what I need for my family’s Hanukkah celebration.”
Ted’s nose wrinkled, and he pressed his lips together, yellowed mustache bushy enough to tickle the bottom one. “Then I don’t suppose you’ll want an invitation to the firm’s Christmas party?”
“I would love one,” she replied enthusiastically. And then continued to fuck with this man’s preconceived notions enthusiastically. “Assuming I’m not in Cape Cod celebrating Christmas with our daughter-in-law’s family.”
CC, who had apparently lived in the South long enough to learn the fake polite skill, spared Ted further confusion. “I’ll make sure she has the date.”
“Fine,” he huffed, then turned on his heel and bolted. They waited for his footsteps to fade around the corner before devolving into a fit of snickers.
Victorious, Al propped an elbow on the table, chin in hand, and grinned. “He’s so confused.”
“Personal chef?”
“Greg Valteau, of course, who”—she checked the time on her phone—“will have a table waiting for us in an hour. We better get going.”
“What about the asset purchase agreement?”
She stood, slid her feet back into her heels, and offered a hand up to CC. “Already reviewed and sent to my clients.” CC opened her mouth, and Al, anticipating her next question, continued. “And the rail company’s in-house counsel just has to review and sign off on the quitclaim deed the consultant got in front of him this afternoon.” She squeezed CC’s hand still in hers. “So, how about that shopping spree, Red?”
Chapter Nine
“I’m glad we shopped first.” Al folded her hands over her stuffed belly. “I will not be functional for the next six hours.”
“Make that seven.” Colby appeared beside their table, two plates in hand. She lowered the first in front of her sister. On it was a fluffy open-faced biscuit slathered in what looked and smelled like apple butter. It was topped with a mountain of whipped cream and an artful swirl of deep red coulis—cranberry, if Al had to guess. “Today’s Sweet Spot for you.”
CC’s grin was so wide, so fond that it was all Al could do not to grab her phone and snap a picture. Or to glide the foot resting against CC’s under the table higher. Al was seriously considering the latter when Colby placed the second plate in front of her. “And cranberry apple sufganiyot for you.”
All thoughts of tempting CC momentarily fled, replaced by her own giddy delight. The doughnuts were fluffy, lightly powdered, and oozing jelly. Joy on a plate, one of Al’s favorite foods of the holiday season. And fuck if they didn’t taste as good as they looked. She was so lost in the sweet, tart, fried batter thrill that she didn’t even notice Colby rummaging through their bags until CC untangled their feet so she could nudge her sister.
“Manners, Col,” she lightly chided.
“Since when?”
“It’s fine.” Al plucked the second doughnut off her plate. “I have grandchildren who rummage through everything.”
“Yes,” CC said, “but they are children.”
“Ooh!” Colby held up one of the two stained glass dreidels Al and CC had found at a funky little shop just around the corner. “This is gorgeous.”
“CC picked it out,” Al said. “Check out the menorah she found too.”
Colby nosed around in the bags some more until she uncovered the spinning menorah, a wheel of rainbow colors, each with a candle holder.
Colby’s wide eyes swung to her sister. “Please tell me you bought one of these for our place.”
“Of course I did.”
