Matzah Ball Surprise

by Laura Brown

  Paper and pen in hand, he moved to a bench and sat down. He started to write, then had to pause, Monica’s please flashing in his head. Dammit. She still had his balls in a vise, only now without the sex. He needed a different excuse.

  Sorry about that. I have no idea what you wanted, but that woman is an annoying childhood friend. If it wasn’t for you, she’d still be chatting with me. I owe you one.

  He handed the paper to her and studied her face as she read. Her peach skin appeared clear and smooth despite the fact she’d been working out. Everything about her looked smooth and made him want to run his hands over her.

  Bad idea.

  Her lips turned upward, and his dick lurched seconds before his brain registered the smile as some sort of trap and warning lights flashed.

  Too late.

  She wrote, and he had to wonder if chatting with Monica would have given a better end result.

  She handed the paper back to him, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth, which was sexy as hell. He almost didn’t look at the paper.

  Glad I could help, and sorry for speaking so much. I ramble when I get nervous. As for owing me, and the reason I approached you in the first place, it’s silly, really, but I kinda sorta need a date to this family thing this weekend, after my ex dumped me, and I’d gladly make it up to you somehow.

  He took the paper and wrote the first thing that came to mind.

  You want a Deaf guy as a date?

  Her cheeks flushed as she wrote her response.

  This sounds bad— Oh, I hope “sounds” isn’t insulting. I don’t mean it to be, but all I really need is a warm body.

  He suppressed a chuckle. Sitting here, writing with a stranger, wasn’t his usual after workout activity, but she had him intrigued, and he couldn’t remember anything else that important.

  Why me?

  Her cheeks turned deeper red, and he had the sudden urge to lean in.

  I need someone better looking than my ex.

  He had to hand it to her for being honest. The question now: did he want this? Helping out a friend he could communicate with was easy, but helping out a hearing stranger was a different ball of wax completely.

  She took the paper back before he could make up his mind.

  I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Thank you for even considering it.

  By the time he finished reading she had left the bench, the only motion the swing of the women’s locker room door. A pang of something hit him, more than the abrupt end to their conversation. He hadn’t agreed to anything; she gave him an out. He could return the supplies to the front desk and go. Or he could wait her out, see where this strange new interaction went. Neither felt quite right…or wrong.

  …

  The warm water hit Levi’s aching muscles. Instead of the usual blissful relaxer, it failed to penetrate deep enough. Not on this day, not after meeting that woman. Crap, he didn’t even get her name, no way to identify her beyond the amber tones of her eyes and the way her exercise clothes hugged her curves. She had a healthy body, not over-worked, not under-worked, and he bet she enjoyed food.

  If he accompanied her to this event, he might find the answer.

  Levi paused, the water streaming down his back. He considered this odd request. What harm would it cause? Pose as her date, help her out after she’d helped him out—really, it was the least he could do.

  Bonus, it gave him an excuse not to go with Monica, not to have to look his parents and siblings in the eyes and lie for her. They’d been getting pressure to set a wedding date, so the efforts would be doubled now, when the answer was a flat-out no. No wedding, not happening.

  Monica would be pissed; he might not get the new video system. But she could wield whatever lies she wanted, get her business secured, and then hand him back his damn ring.

  Let her throw him under the bus. At this point, he really didn’t care.

  He finished in the shower and quickly got dressed, pausing only when he collected his phone to text his friend.

  Levi: Hot hearing chick, doesn’t sign, wants you as a date to a family thing, recently dumped. What do?

  The response came as he shoved his feet into his shoes.

  Meyer: Go. Hot chick. Always hot chick.

  Meyer: Bonus, date someone, maybe Monica will get the hint.

  Any lingering reservations he had flew into the trash. Levi hurried out of the locker room, into the hallway, only to find it empty. Damn, damn, double damn. He’d never find her now. He backed up, ready to check the other areas, just in case, then the women’s door opened and a female with wet strands of brown hair and amber eyes appeared.

  A smile broke out on his face. She staggered back, eyes large, and he had the strongest urge to step closer and discover the scent of her soap and shampoo.

  It had been a while; his romance with Monica had died long before their engagement had. No one else had sparked this want and need in him since, except for this random hearing woman. He never did anything easy.

  She straightened, mouth back to moving as if he could understand, then he spotted the other woman behind her. He waved, this time being the awkward one, and realized he’d lose her if he didn’t act fast.

  He pulled out his phone and typed a message.

  Do you still need that date?

  He turned the phone around so she could read the screen. A warm smile brightened her eyes, the amber tones increasing. She nodded.

  A sense of accomplishment surged through him, and he quickly typed his next message.

  I’m Levi. What’s your number?

  Chapter Three

  “Oh my god, it worked,” Riley whispered from behind Gaby.

  “Ri, he’s deaf, you don’t have to whisper.” Gaby took his phone and entered her name and number.

  When she handed it back, he winked. She couldn’t remember the last time someone winked at her, at least in a positive way, but his wink could melt panties. His thumbs flew over his screen, and a moment later, her phone dinged.

  Levi: Nice to meet you Gaby, now we have a way of communicating. Let me know when you want to go over details.

  He put his phone away, smile wide and enticing on his face. He waved, then waved again behind Gaby—she had almost forgotten Riley was there—before turning and heading toward the exit. She needed to say something to Riley, but her eyes were glued to his jean-covered ass.

  “Hot damn,” Riley breathed. “I know we ogle the gym buffs all the time, but he’s one fine specimen.”

  Gaby kept her mouth shut. She’d been ogling this particular gym buff for months, and now she had his number.

  “You’re going to have to get a kiss out of this deal,” Riley said.

  Gaby snapped to attention and turned to her friend. “What are you talking about? He’s posing as my date, helping me out, that’s it.”

  “And dates don’t kiss?” Riley puckered her lips and blew an air kiss.

  “Not at Passover.” Though, she had to admit, the thought was tempting. She wound her arm through Riley’s. “Come on. I need ice cream after this.”

  …

  Gaby’s little apartment in southern New Hampshire usually gave her a sense of peace and quiet compared to the busier Massachusetts city she worked in. A bit of an escape, according to Riley, as though border hopping was such an unusual tactic for the area. Gaby didn’t care—the price made up for the extra travel time.

  Tonight it didn’t feel like her oasis; it felt like an escape. Lonely and stifling, a reminder of her very real current relationship status.

  Gaby stared at her phone, dark and silent on her coffee table. She needed to pick it up, text Levi, and get this farce underway.

  But first, wine. And while she was at it, she skipped her usual budget specials and went for the pricey merlot Riley had gotten her. Nothing said “special occasion�
�� quite like convincing a stranger to eat matzah with her family.

  At least it would stop the pitying looks.

  Gaby: Hi, it’s Gaby. Are you still willing to help?

  She bit her lip, then decided a large swallow of wine would be a better idea. Levi probably had come to his senses in the few hours since they’d met. Which would be fine; she’d just go back home, alone, and feel as though she were the one, instead of her ancestors, about to wander the desert for forty years in search of something familiar.

  Ahh, the good old days, when fleeing a Pharaoh in Egypt would undoubtedly top being single on a Jewish holiday.

  Her phone chirped and she nearly spilled her wine.

  Levi: What are the details?

  She needed more wine. After another long swallow, she set her thumbs to action.

  Gaby: I need someone to come with me to Connecticut on Thursday. I’m Jewish and Passover starts on Friday, basically a big family dinner with a lot of reading from a Haggadah.

  Crap, he probably had no clue what she was talking about. She needed to launch into a Jewish history lesson. On the plus side, everyone had their own book, so he could read at his own pace and would be saved from speaking out loud. Which did not make her envy him, not at all.

  Levi: I got it. When do we leave?

  Her heart started a heavy drumbeat. This was really happening. Instead of dealing with whatever new thing her mother had altered, she’d be bringing her own new thing.

  Gaby: Should we meet on Wednesday? Go over our backstory?

  Levi: Wednesday will be busy. How about we meet now?

  She squeaked and focused on her wineglass. Nearly empty. And she was a lightweight, as the slight zero gravity sensation of her head proved. Maybe she could have him come here, offer him some wine. She glanced around her small apartment. Clothes covered chairs, mail was piled on the table, and did she really trust him enough to come to her house?

  You trust him enough to go to your mother’s house but not yours?

  Fair enough.

  Gaby: Sure. You could come over.

  That sounded like a much bigger offer than wine. Which she failed to mention. She smacked her head. At least she couldn’t embarrass herself too much further in one day. Could she?

  Levi: You sure about that? You don’t know me.

  Damn, damn, damn. That made her like him even more. She threw her own reasoning back at him.

  Gaby: But my mother’s house is fine?

  This situation couldn’t get more absurd.

  Levi: Good point. Your decision.

  Gaby bit her lip and debated her options. In the end, wine won, and she rattled off her address.

  Levi: You live far from the gym.

  Gaby: The gym is close to work. We can meet somewhere else if this is too far.

  In about an hour when the wooziness faded.

  Levi: No, it’s fine, just surprised. Be there in a half hour.

  She nodded like an idiot then registered her surroundings. Crap, she should have met up with him somewhere. Wine or not, the place was a mess.

  She set about cleaning. The place needed a vacuum, but something in hers always smelled, and there wasn’t enough time to let the place air out. She had no clue where her duster hid, but a dish rag took care of the glaring issues. How had she become this bad at cleaning?

  Her ex and his inability to let a single item get out of place came to mind, but she squashed that thought as though it were a pesky bug. Her messy state was a rebellion and relaxation, something she should be proud of.

  She wiped down another surface then grabbed her phone before she broke out the surface cleaner.

  Gaby: Levi’s coming over.

  Riley: YES! YES! Practice kissing!

  Gaby: Shouldn’t you be concerned I’m inviting a stranger into my home?

  Riley: KISSING!

  She should have known Riley wouldn’t be much help, but at least someone knew about the situation in case Levi did turn out to be an ax murderer or something.

  Her intercom buzzed, and her finger poised over the speaker button before realizing that wouldn’t help. Crap. She couldn’t see into the lobby, so she had no clue who waited. Would Levi even know the door was unlocked? She pressed the button, fingers crossed that he would figure it out and she hadn’t let in a worse ax murderer than him. Good lord, what if he had a collection of bodies stored up from all his victims? And instead of bringing home a date for Passover, she’d be added to his collection. Mothers everywhere would warn their daughters: you come home with or without a date. Don’t be like that Passover Murder Victim. Her poor mother.

  A rat-tat-tat came at her door, and she squeaked as though this were a surprise. Calming her racing heart, she glanced through the peep hole, mouth gaping at the sight before her. Levi’s short brown hair was in a tousled mess on top of his head. His face held a light stubble. Dark hair against light skin made his blue eyes pop. If he was an ax murderer, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

  She unlocked the door, opened her mouth to speak, then clamped it shut and waved awkwardly. Levi held up a notebook with a pen stuck in the spiral. The smile on his face brought out hers, and all her earlier worries vanished.

  Of course she didn’t move. Moving would have been smart. Instead she stood there, smiling at him, awkwardness surrounding them like a fog. What did she do now? Somehow, her brain had disengaged somewhere between ax murderers and blue eyes. She needed to move—should she enter her apartment and hope he followed? Should she back up? Should she bang her head against the wall?

  Levi gestured toward her living room. Right. She stepped back, colliding with the door, the handle digging into her butt as he walked past, their bodies brushing because she had failed to give him enough room. Her stomach clenched, not at all upset about the lack of personal space, even if it ended far too quickly.

  Levi looked around her living area, and she became extra glad she’d done that small amount of cleaning. She braced herself, waiting for disapproval to cross his face. None did. Instead of focusing on the lingering crumbs on her kitchen table or the sweater she forgot to remove from the back of the couch, he went over to the picture on the wall, the one she had taken of a sunset in Hawaii. He studied it for what felt like an eternity but really amounted to maybe twenty seconds. When he faced her, his hands moved, ending with a thumbs-up, and his eyes held a note of wonder, like what the sunset had done to her and why she had to capture it in the first place. No one had ever paid much attention to the picture, certainly not the way he had.

  It felt intimate. She wouldn’t have thought it to be so, but something about him being in her space, focusing on the parts that meant the most to her, made her heart swell.

  Too bad Levi was only her fake date.

  He took a seat then pointed at her wine, with eyebrows raised.

  “Oh, you want one?”

  Stupid, he can’t hear! She palmed her forehead, wishing the floor would open up and claim her, the previous mystical spell vanished. Get into action! She scurried to her cabinet and pulled out a second glass, holding it up to him.

  Levi held a thumbs-up, and she poured him some wine. Her expensive wine. It was meant to be shared, not hoarded. Or at least, she tried to convince herself of this fact.

  She handed the wine to him, and their hands brushed. His warmth made her want to curl up next to him and purr. He took a sip and his eyes closed, satisfaction clear across his face. He was quite possibly the most expressive male she had ever met. She had the sudden urge to reach up and brush her fingers along his jaw.

  Whoa, calm down—this is just a study session before a fake date. Gaby picked up her own wine, needing a distraction.

  Levi grabbed the notebook and started writing, his loopy handwriting casual and clear.

  What’s our backstory? What do you need?

 
More wine, maybe a little tongue. His shirt had a few top buttons open and a smattering of hair was showing; she wanted to know how much followed. Did it travel all the way down, past his navel into his pants?

  She took another sip of wine, needing to cool down, realizing the wine was not helping. Time to focus on the objective at hand. Which had nothing to do with kissing; she’d need to give Riley a strong talking to later. She picked up the paper and pen.

  I broke up with my ex a few months ago. Let’s keep it simple: we met at the gym and have been dating a month.

  He took the paper.

  And we communicate how?

  With tongues. No, don’t write that.

  What do you suggest? This is brand new for me.

  He read the paper, then put it down on the table before shifting to face her. His knee bent toward the back of the couch, and she had the urge to crawl into his lap. But all urges stopped when he picked up her hand, his touch going straight to her head. He formed her hand into a fist, then held his up the same way.

  Gaby scrunched her face. What the hell was he doing?

  He picked up the paper and wrote one letter: A, then pointed to her hand and his, which was back in the shape.

  “A?” she asked, like an idiot, but… Oh! The alphabet!

  He tapped his nose then took her hand again, rearranging her fingers to be straight, with her thumb across her palm.

  B.

  He was teaching her the alphabet. And since each touch of his hand to hers made her all tingly, she had to concentrate extra hard. This would work, if she could pay attention. They needed some way to communicate beyond writing, otherwise what would her family think?

  She knew what they would think—the same thing Riley thought, the same thing the low pulse deep in her belly wanted—that this relationship was purely sexual. But a sexual relationship wasn’t what one brought home for Passover.

  A half hour later she still didn’t know the difference between D and F, and she kept messing P up, but she had the gist of it. Sort of. All the mistakes frustrated her to no end, but Levi sat with relaxed shoulders, a smile on his face, as if this were a tranquil evening at home. And his mellow state was contagious.