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“I told you,” Leah said, her tone equallysotto voce, “Didn’t I tell you?”
“Itoldyou,” Abigail said from Shoshana’s other side, “Aren’t you glad you came?”
“Remind me to thank you with wine and song later. There has to be at least twenty families here,” Shoshana said. They were in the last pew, the one closest to the door, but the sanctuary was pretty full for a regular Friday night.
“If you look that good in a tallis, they will come,” Leah said, then snickered. A little boy in the pew directly in front of them turned around and glared, lifting his finger to his lips for quiet.
Shoshana’s jaw dropped open.
The child gave her a nasty look that clearly said he thought she was terrible. Apparently, setting a bad example was still roundly frowned upon. The little shit’s mother’s hand ghosted over his head absently.
They were in the middle of the Amidah. Everybodywas making noise. Well, chanting, anyway.
Shoshana refused to be shamed by a child. She shook her head, forcing a laugh from somewhere. This time the kid’s mom turned her head. Shoshana waved. The woman rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the bimah. Not that Shoshana could blame her.
“He evensings. What the fuck, Abi?”
As a general rule, rabbis weren’t known for their ability to carry a tune. Sure, they could chant (it was part of the job description) but most of the time, the more melodic parts of the service would be done by a music director or a cantor. This guy, though, this fucking guy was a double threat.
“Shh, don’t say ‘fuck’ during prayers, it’s distracting,” Abigail murmured, amusement making her voice crack. Her tone said this was the most fun she’d had all week.
“Or at least say it in Hebrew,” Leah joked. This time the little boy jerked his mom’s cardigan. The woman glared over her shoulder at Leah. Leah raised her shoulders to show she was a helpless victim in it all herself. She’d always been good at deflecting blame when her twin got them into trouble.
Whatisthe Hebrew for fuck?Shoshana wondered, then ducked behind her prayer book when she realized she was being scrutinized.
Sex-on-a-stick was adjusting his tallit, eyes watching her with something that could have been amusement or intrigue or both. She resisted the urge to dive down to the floor. She could claim she dropped her keys or something.
The man’s eyes said he was very aware that she’d been less than engaged for the better part of the service. From somewhere inside herself, she felt the defiance rear up. It was a familiar feeling and she welcomed it, glad she wasn’t so caught up by his good looks that she was a sheep in the field. She felt her eyebrow arch in something that could have been a silentyes, and?It wasn’t her fault she’d tripped her way through L’cha Dodi.
And it was definitely not her fault that his voice was doing things to her.
It should be illegal for a man’s voice to be that sexy when he was praying, she decided. He sounded like he should be growling out a soulful, rock ballad. Something with a scratchy electric guitar and a strong rhythm section. He had a voice that made her think of good bourbon. The kind that burned all the way down.
She swallowed hard and tried not to stare at the way his hands gripped the podium. Of course he’d have gorgeous hands. Gorgeous hands to go with a gorgeous--
She almost fell back into the pew when they finished the chant. Abi elbowed her side. Her friend’s face was triumphant. Shoshana shook her head, laughing silently. She shrugged, nodding as if to sayyeah, okay you win.
The guy was worth the trip.
* * *
David Freedman had never flubbed a service so hard in his life.
Not even his bar mitzvah.
At least for his bar mitzvah he’d been able to claim inexperience and puberty.
He tried to focus. For the love of God, he printed his sermons in a double-spaced, size twenty-four font specifically so he wouldn’t have to struggle to focus. He wished he’d worn his glasses instead of the contacts.
Then, immediately, he was glad he hadn’t. He looked dorky in his glasses, always had. He shuffled the papers in front of him in a show of rhetorical concentration, but really, he needed a reason to stop staring.
Who was that woman sitting next to Abi Meyer?
It was difficult not to stare. It was impossible not to be captivated by that wide mouth. Her smile held secrets. As though she were working very hard not to giggle with Abi and Leah. He wanted to know what could make a woman smile like that.
David scanned the rest of the congregation, telling himself it would be less obvious he was definitely watching her if he was also watching everyone else. The entire congregation was watching him with varying degrees of expectation. It was something that happened on a weekly basis and he was used to it, so as he continued through the prayers, his eyes flicked back to the enigma on the back pew. Her eyes were… not expectant. That surprised him.
She was watching him in a way that made him wonder what she was thinking. He found himself wishing he could tell from this distance what color her eyes were. From his position on the bimah, he could only see the dark eye makeup, the high cheekbones, the hair that looked like some kind of rare collection of flowers.
