Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Andie struggled to fold down the box lid, crisscrossing the flaps to be secured without being taped up. Box one was packed. It was kitchen items mostly, the rarely used ones with a thick coating of dust she doubted she’d use before she moved. But it was a step forward, an attempt at making this all real.
She stretched, hand to her lower back. There was a lot of bending in her world working with three and four-year-olds. The box sat at her feet, her kitchen showing no signs of change. And yet she knew her cabinets held fewer items; it would be one step closer to easier packing.
With a huff, she prodded the box with her foot, sliding it to an empty corner in her living room, next to the desk she inherited from her mother. Broken and worthless, but also priceless. Now she had a reminder of her job offer and move, as if she’d presented the idea to the mother she didn’t remember for approval. She’d made a decision.
Sort of.
She hadn’t accepted it yet, still wanted to give herself the entire week. Too often, Andie made decisions on the fly, jumped into something new without thinking it through. Those decisions hadn’t come back to bite her in the ass, but none involved as much change as this one did.
One box packed. No regrets. Though granted, some of those items might be better off in a storage unit.
Andie clapped her hands and faced the direction of her neighbor. Leo. He’d hit a soft spot and she’d gone off on him. Not his fault. She’d go over there and make amends. Her gaze tracked to her menorah, still with dried yellow wax clinging to it. The darkening sky displayed behind it through her windows. A barricade-like sensation sprouted and grew roots between her and the candles. If she tried to light them, she’d have to climb a mountain first. How odd, she could pack a box, but she couldn’t light those candles alone. At least not without giving Leo a second chance.
She stuffed her phone in her pocket and grabbed her keys, walking the few feet down the hall to Leo’s unit. This walk felt as smooth as butter. It was the right decision for tonight, the only explanation she had. That gave her a little kick to her step, a drop of adrenaline coursing through her system. With any luck, the conflict from the previous night had been a fluke. Either way, she’d come prepared to find out.
Leo’s blank door stood in front of her, the gold forty-two under the peephole. The same setup as all the units, with mirroring layouts. She knocked, a light rasp of her knuckles against the dark wood. And waited.
And waited.
Her foot tapped the carpet. Perhaps she knocked too lightly? She knocked again, louder this time, bringing a sting to her knuckles, and waited.
Nothing.
She sighed. He might be out. Or perhaps he didn’t want round two with his bitchy neighbor. Couldn’t blame him for that. With any luck, this attempt at talking to him would allow her to light her menorah, even if the thought of being alone felt just plain wrong.
Her keys were in hand and her back to his door, when it clicked open. “Andie?’
She turned, catching Leo standing there, hair all mussed up, a dress shirt open at the collar and stretched across broad shoulders, dark jeans hugging his legs, and white socks on his feet.
Damn, she’d forgotten how gorgeous he was.
“Hi,” she waved. “Look, I wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize?” His eyebrows attempted to reach the wayward lock of hair on his forehead. “I thought I needed to apologize.”
She warmed at his words but held to her reason for being there. “I might have been a bit harsh last night and reactive. I get like that. One can only take so much of their career being put down before being a tad oversensitive. Anyway … I didn’t know if you had plans for the second night or if you would be up for company?”
She bit her lip, wondering when she’d turned into a rambling fool. She talked students and parents out of meltdowns, flirted her way to free drinks, and yet fumbled with her words in front of her neighbor.
He looks like Ryan Reynolds, you’d fumble in front of Ryan Reynolds, too.
A smile grew over Leo’s face, strong and sure. And suddenly she wasn’t thinking of the celebrity he resembled; she was thinking of him and his smile. One she wanted to taste.
“I’d very much like to spend the second night with you.” He stepped back, welcoming her into his apartment.
Andie took in the unit. The same layout as hers reversed, though that was where the similarities stopped. Her unit was filled, albeit sparsely, with modern and secondhand items. Leo’s reminded her of her grandparents’ place, but in a good way. No question about him being an antique dealer, or at least an antique lover. Dark furniture with gold accents covered the place, probably worth more than her Ikea couch. And yet, the place felt light and comfortable.
“You really do deal with antiques,” she said as she continued to examine his place. “I think this makes your unit more valuable than mine.”
Leo chuckled. “That’s only if I’m having an estate sale.”
“I don’t think there’s anything here that isn’t old.”
“I have modern technology, I’ll have you know. And while I enjoy antiques, I’m not a fan of secondhand mattresses. The bed set is old, however.”
She faced him, forgetting about his living area. Now, she wanted to see his bedroom. What kind of set did he have? A soft, plush one in dark, masculine tones? Perhaps one she could sink into, or be tied up to, or … Andie really needed to stop her thoughts from traveling any further down that particular path. Leo’s cheeks pinked, clearly catching the same drift. At least some of it. Adorable. And sexy. Was it warm in here?
He tugged at his collar. “Uh, a lot of the other furniture has been reupholstered, so a bit of new mixed in with old.”
She nodded. “That’s nice. There are stories here that don’t involve a crowded Ikea trip. Though I will have you know I have some epic Ikea stories.”
“Oh really?”
Andie did her best to smother her grin. “Indeed. Besides catching some amazing finds and grabbing a cinnamon roll on the way out, have you ever had a scavenger hunt there?
Confusion crossed Leo’s face. “A scavenger hunt?”
Andie laughed, lost in the memory. “Yes. Two preschool teachers on a shopping trip with a bit too much caffeine energy. Some of the most fun I’ve ever had while shopping.” Sarah and she had raced through the place, trying to find all the odd items, laughing so hard they got not-so-friendly looks from strangers.
She’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“That does sound like fun. I might like to do that someday.”
“And perhaps someday I’ll bring you on one.” Where did that come from? One minute she thought of fun with Sarah, the next she invited Leo somewhere as if they were dating or at least good friends, not neighbors with an end date all but stamped on.
“I, uh, got you something.”
She refocused on his face and the hand scratching the back of his neck. She bet his hair was smooth and silky. “You did?”
“Yeah, I felt bad about yesterday and your candle situation. I was planning on dropping it off soon, hang on.” He turned and rummaged through a workbag. The whole apartment had a gold tone to it that had nothing to do with the setting sun. The shade looked good on Leo, somehow luring her toward him.
He turned and held up a box. “For your menorah. I hope you like the color.”
She collected the box of beeswax candles with teal and white accents, her heart warming. “Teal’s my favorite color, I don’t think I’ve ever seen candles this color. How did you know?’
He rubbed that neck of his again, a nervous gesture she realized, and darn cute. “I, uh, remembered you had a lot of teal items in your place.”
Many men didn’t recognize a drastic haircut and this man caught the color of the accents in her apartment. He paid attention, a rare trait to find. “And you just happened to have a box on hand?”
“I had a visit to one of my collector clients. She had more candle boxes than she knew what to do with, so I offered it a good home.”
She turned the box over in her hands, touched that he went through the trouble for her. “Well, thank you for this.”
He gestured to the dining room table where his menorah sat. An old one, for sure, gold—naturally—with a tree-like look. “Would you do me the honor of lighting them with me?”
The vines on the menorah held so much detail, exquisitely depicted and carried out. Someone took a lot of time in designing this, and the years that had since passed only enhanced the mystique. “That’s beautiful.” Andie walked over, brushing a finger down one side. It brought to mind a different menorah, also with a tree-like feel, and all the warmth that other menorah held. “It reminds me of one my grandparents had. I don’t know what happened to it after they passed, but I’d secretly wanted it for myself.”
“I’m sorry you lost track of it. This one came into my workshop. I want to clean it up a bit, but couldn’t resist using it.”
“I can see that. Sure, let’s light it.”
“Really?” He looked so surprised, like she’d came over just to scurry back to her apartment.
“Yes. Fresh start, right here.”
“No pressure or anything, I have a bad habit of putting my foot in the mouth.”
Andie grinned, he really was cute with those two spots of pink on his cheeks above the hint of a five-o’clock shadow. “Well, you try and keep that foot out and I’ll try and let you have a mishap or two.”
“Only two?” The color faded and knowingly or not, he leaned into her, heating up the space between them.
“I need to have my standards, don’t I?”
“Well then, let’s light the candles and see if I can behave.”
Maybe you can not behave in other areas. Down girl, there was plenty of time left to have some fun. Whatever had turned her off the previous night didn’t seem to be a problem anymore, making this moment all the more special.
Leo gestured to the box of candles she still held. “Would you like to use your candles? Your candles, my menorah, and this fresh start?”
He might put his foot in his mouth, but the man was considerate, thinking of others in ways she wasn’t used to. It touched her, proved there was more to Leo than what met the eye.
“I would, thank you.” Andie tapped out three candles and set them up in Leo’s menorah. He lit a match, lighting the shamash. “Words are on the paper over there, but we proved yesterday we don’t need it.” A folded yellow paper with the words lay to the side.
“That we have, and yet, we’re both going to read it anyways, aren’t we?”
“Or pretend to.”
He reached for the shamash, then stopped. “Did you want to light them?”
She intended to reach out, but standing back, enjoying the view of his menorah, her candles, and the man himself, she wanted to keep this visual and savor it. “No, you go ahead.”
He nodded and plucked the center candle from its holder. Their voices rang out together again, saying the prayers. “Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Chanukah. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v’imoteinu bayamim hahaeim baz’man hazeh.”
Andie stepped back, watching the three flames flickering back at them. She wanted to make this night a better one, wanted this magical moment to continue. With any luck, Leo and she wouldn’t clash, and they’d be able to enjoy their time together. In more ways than one.
Leo watched the flames lick high into the air, teal candles bright against his menorah. Andie stood beside him, also watching. He couldn’t believe his good fortune that she’d had a change of heart. Instead of the awkward uncomfortable moments of the previous night, here felt comfort. The flames cast a flickering glow on her face, bringing out her beauty, and he wanted to see her lit by all nine candles.
Maybe if he played his cards right—and managed to keep his foot out of his mouth—he’d have a shot at it. Until then, he’d make the best of this moment here and now and see where the night brought them.
“How are you at dreidel?” Andie asked, pulling him from his runaway thoughts.
The words took a moment to register. “Dreidels?” Goodness, Dentz, enough with being a shmuck !
“Yes, you know the spinning tops with Hebrew on the side, the ones that indicate the words to ‘a great miracle happened there.’” Her lips tilted with a tease that looked as sweet as honey and nearly made him forget how to speak.
“Uh. Yes. I know what they are. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Or hearing it right.
“We could make it interesting?” In addition to her tempting grin, her eyes shone with a glow not from the candles.
He didn’t know if she meant it to be seductive, but he wanted a taste, a big one.
“How do you make dreidels interesting besides winning the most gelt or candy?”
“My friend and coworker suggested strip dreidels, but I don’t think we’re up to that, are we?” She batted her eyelashes at him, a tilt to her head, exposing a strip of her smooth neck.
All his blood ran south at airplane speed. He had to swallow to ensure he didn’t squeak. “No. But I’m always game for that.”
Andie laughed, head tilting to the other side, showing off more of her neck. “Of course you are. What I’m thinking is this: we play now and winner decides what we do tomorrow night.”
“There’s going to be a tomorrow night?” One would think he had cobwebs on his dating skills. In fact, he probably did, more so than some of the antiques he worked with.
“If you spin your dreidels right there could be.” A flash of vulnerability crossed over her face. “Unless you have plans?”
He shook his head. “No plans.”
“What do you say? You have supplies or do I need to go rummaging around in a box at home?”
“I’ve got some supplies. No gelt, though. My niece won most of mine the last time we played.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s ten. A sweet exterior with a calculating soul.”
“The type that cries to get what she wants?”
“Not since she was four.”
He loved his niece, but she was a handful. Jodie claims it to be the reason she only had one, but he knew infertility played a heavy hand.
“I do have some M aware he risked inserting his foot back in his mouth.
Humor danced in Andie’s eyes. “Why not? This game is a bit like war and can go on for a while. Leo, would you like to go on for a while with me?”
His brain turned to mush, complete and utter mush. Half of him wanted to take up flirting like a second job, continue down the tease Andie dropped before him. The other half still appalled at wasting that much precious candy.
“And what happens to the M&Ms?”
Andie threw her head back, laughing. “Winner takes all? Or, if it matters to you, the candy can stay here.”
“But if you win …” He really knew how to dig himself a hole. Any hole. Anywhere. But he didn’t buy candy to be used only as gelt.
“Then I’ll have tomorrow night’s plans as my winnings, won’t I?” Her brown hair hung in its typical waves around her face.
Focus, Dentz, she’s here and wants more . “Works for me.” He held out a hand. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”
Andie laughed and shook his hand, her skin silky smooth against his roughened palm. “A Hunger Games fan, I take it?”
He shrugged as he shuffled through a drawer until he found his dreidels. The candles sparked and wavered, the dance of ancient times, as he shifted the menorah to the side so they had room to play.
“I wouldn’t call myself a fan. More like I saw it and enjoyed it.”
“You didn’t read the book.”
He grabbed the M&M bag and brought it over to the table. “I did not read the book. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading, just further proof that the movie wasn’t a strong interest. I probably saw it because everyone was talking about it.”
“I get that.”
He grasped two sides of the candy bag, prepared to yank it open. He pulled, hands straining, bag not even attempting to tear. He altered his grip and tried again, the material threatening to slip through his fingers. Not even a slight rip.
Leo put the bag down and hung his head. So much for creating a good second impression. “That did not go well.”
Andie chuckled, the glow of the candles on her raised cheeks, bringing out gold specks in her brown eyes. “Go ahead, try again.”
She made him feel like a kid given an extra dollar to give the strong man game another try, one he had no plans to waste. He grabbed the bag, getting a different grip, and wrenching with all his might. His male ego wanted to puff his chest and turn all Hulk super strength to impress her. Instead, his fingers slipped as he tugged and his ego slinked off to a corner to pout. “We’re going to pretend I didn’t do that.”
Andie dropped her head, laughing. He liked the sound, just not at his expense. He went into his junk drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors, snipping the bag open. “On the topic of movies, what does everyone love and you dislike?”
“You said you liked Hunger Games .”
“I did. It was okay, but it made me think of this question.” He dumped the contents of the bag into the center of the table, stealing a few to pop in his mouth. “Humor me.”
“You think you can handle this?”
A smile spread across her face. Damn, she was beautiful. One day, if he was lucky, he’d get the chance to tell her so.
“Try me.” He opened the cloth bag that held his dreidels, spreading them out to be chosen.
“This will probably have you packing up and taking the dreidels away, but I’m so not a Star Wars fan.” Andie folded her hands in front of her and settled her chin on them. The expression on her face could only be described as “deal with it.” A multicolored beaded bracelet slid down her wrist.
“While I have seen the movies and enjoyed them, they were just okay. I’m not camping out to watch them or fretting over any storyline changes.”
“Ahh, but you know about them.”
He grinned. “It’s a lot like Hunger Games . Family, friends, social media, they all know and talk about it so it’s in all of our faces. The bigger question, why don’t you like it?”
She picked up a wooden dreidel, twirled it between two fingers. “Because it’s so overdone. The hype alone is everywhere, and the attitude people have about it is blown out of proportion.”
“So, because it’s overly hyped, you won’t give it a chance?”
She sighed, laying the dreidel on its side. “That’s the thing. I did give it a chance, and it left me bored after the first twenty minutes. I don’t get the appeal.”
Leo began sorting out the candy. “I can accept that.”
“What about you?” Her gaze studied him with an intensity he wasn’t used to and be damned if he didn’t like it.
“ Terminator .”
“Well, the fifth one was pretty bad. I’ll give you that.”
He shook his head. “Never saw the fifth. I’m talking about the first.”
A hand went to her heart. “Not Terminator !”
“’Fraid so.”
Andie leaned forward, angling the table toward her. A few candies skittered closer. “Come on. Sarah and Kyle are adorable together.”
You’re adorable . “They know each other a week. We’re supposed to buy everlasting love in a week?”
“Wow, you’re a cynic.”
Was he? “No. I like my fair share of romance movies that my buddies tease me about. I just don’t buy this whirlwind romance. A week and sex? Sure. But not love. Then, the whole concept falls apart. If robots were going to take over, we’d all be gone by now.”
“Ahh, but it’s a parable, a warning for what might come.”
“Bodybuilder robots who have a change of heart? No. You don’t believe in the dark side, and I don’t believe in the robot revolt.”
Andie’s eyes slid to his iPhone resting on the table. “And your phone isn’t listening to you? You never mentioned a product and then saw an ad for it on social media an hour later?”
“Oh, my phone one hundred percent is listening to me. I play it Mozart at night to fall asleep.”
She threw her head back and laughed. Her cheeks rose with the humor and had the strongest urge to kiss each one. Hold it together, man, you’re on your second chance. There won’t be a third one.
“Okay, so no Star Wars , no Terminator , and Hunger Games only if the mood strikes, am I following our movie options correctly?”
Andie collected the pile of M&Ms he pushed toward her. “I never said what I thought of Hunger Games .”
He settled into his seat. “And …?”
“I suspect we both are not huge fans of the hype. I probably enjoyed it more than you, but have no burning desire to see it again. And yes, I did read the books.”
“Which was better?”
“I think, at the end of the day, I enjoyed the book better. But they both bring a lot to the table.”
“Speaking of tables, who goes first?”
Andie grinned. “Spin for it? I’m surprised your dreidels aren’t older.”
He held up a finger, scrapped his chair back and went into his living room. The glass door on the old cabinet squeaked uncomfortably as he opened it. He returned to Andie, setting a very old and very fragile silver dreidel in her hands.
“Oh, that’s beautiful.” She turned it around, examining the sides. It was rounded instead of squared, with ornate detailing.
“Not one to spin and play with, and I doubt it ever was. But I couldn’t let this leave my hands. I don’t get many through my shop that are good for playing, so newer is better, though a lot of these dreidels I’ve had since I was a kid.”
“Fair enough.” Andie handed him back the dreidel. He returned it to its home, Andie’s voice hitting his ears from across the room. With her distance, and not being able to see her, he couldn’t make out a word.
“What was that?” He asked when he got back to the table.
“Oh, I was just saying that the dreidels from my youth are sometimes better than the cheap plastic ones made now.”
He rejoined her at the table. “Ah, perhaps there is an antique appreciator in you after all, or at least a retro/vintage one.” And where did that come from? He really did excel at sticking his foot in his mouth.
Andie didn’t seem phased. “I do appreciate an occasional older relic. But my taste is more modern and my budget is mass-marketed cheap crap.”
“It’s not always accessible, I’ll give you that. But if you ever have your eye on an item let me know, I can usually work out something.”
She studied him for a moment. He knew the offer was bigger than whatever got them to this table, and she’d be moving soon, but he couldn’t not drop that into the conversation. He couldn’t sway her future, but he also wouldn’t hold himself back.
“Thank you.” She spun a dreidel and they watched it sail into a smooth twirl, then sputter, then stumble and land on the letter hay.
“Beat that.”
He grabbed his own dreidel and spun it. It sputtered more than hers did, but landed on a gimel. He grinned. “My win.”
Andie dropped a green candy into the center pot. “Your win indeed. Let’s see what you’ve got.”