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“Oh wait. There’s more.”
“I hope you didn’t go over budget,” she warned.
He dug deep into his jeans pocket, coming out with the errant jingle bell he’d saved from his suit pocket. “I think his hat could use this.”
* * *
Alex Beckman, son of Alice and Sam, grandson of Leah and Hal, had fallen asleep on Nora’s couch.
The late night and subsequent long day had caught up with both of them. Nora felt a wave of exhaustion carrying their dishes to the sink, just as her phone lit up with a text from Avi.
Jay scored 9:30 rez @ Enclave, say you’ll come. Bring Brioni!
Nine-thirty wasn’t a.m. and Enclave wasn’t Sunday brunch. It was a late night Russian supper club in Brooklyn, complete with over-the-top dancers, endless blini, pelmeni and black caviar, flowing vodka and live music. There was no way Jay had reserved a table for less than twenty people, and it was always a built-in party…or more like crashing a wedding where you knew no one but still had a blast.
In other words, perfect for the final stop on her and Beck’s tour.
If only they had time for a nap…
“Beck, I’m thinking – ”
She returned to the living room to find him on his side, long legs hanging off the end of the sectional, arms crossed in that hideous sweater. At least he had powered it down first. Face relaxed, lashes perfectly fanned on his cheeks.
I’m thinking that looks really comfortable.
There was just enough room to slide onto the cushions in front of him.Just a disco nap.
His arms instinctively enveloped her, pulling her deeper onto the plush upholstery. Into his warmth. Like perfect spoons in a drawer.
Just twenty minutes. Tucking her head under his chin, she let her eyes close.That’s all we need.
“Norrr…”
A vibration against her neck tickled her awake.
“Nora…what are we doing?”
“We’re going…to…Brighton Beach.” Her lips could barely pull the words out, she was so comfortable. And her apartment building was so quiet. Way past nine-thirty p.m. quiet.
“Any place…with a beach…sounds far from here.” Alex mumbled against her neck, making her giggle.
They had upset the cutlery drawer symmetry in their sleep. No longer resting spoons. She’d flipped, he’d shifted. His mouth on her neck, her hand cupping his very muscular butt.
“There’s a nightclub there…with fire dancers.”
“Fire ants.”
“No,dancers. Or maybe it’s…fire eaters? Can’t…recall.” Her spoon was very, very content. Not upset in the least.
“No…fire ants…eating my skin!”
Beck pulled himself upright, clawing at the Hanukkah sweater.
Nora, more alert now, jumped up to help him pull it off. Sure enough, even in the dim light from the bare window, evidence of a rash was spreading, red and angry-looking, across his chest, stomach and down his arms.
“Oh my God, I set a plague upon you with a cheap street vendor sweater!” she wailed. “Hold on, I have Benadryl…oh, and aloe! I have an aloe plant in my room, hang on.” She rushed down the hall, sliding in her new socks and flipping every light switch along the way.
Even though Libby teased Nora about her black thumb, she had somehow kept an aloe plant alive since college. Now, she knew it was for a reason. She broke off a thick, juicy leaf to get at its gel.
