“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ethan said honestly. For all they didn’t see eye to eye, Jonathan had contributed a lot to Beth Elohim over the years.
“We won’t be able to reinstate you until we appoint a new board member. But Ethan—”
“Yes?”
“We want you back. And not just the remaining board members. The congregation started a petition calling for your return. It’s got over two thousand signatures.” Ira smiled. “Before we hired you, we didn’t even have that many members.”
Ethan let out a surprised burst of laughter—of joy. “I’d be honored to return as your rabbi.”
“Good. Good.” Ira patted his arm. “I’m glad. You know, I kind of like the idea of us being the wacky, nontraditional Reform shul. It’s certainly better than being the shul no one goes to.”
“Yeah,” Ethan answered. “It certainly is.”
Ira bid them good-bye, promising to call with more news on the board appointment before shuffling off to get his own drink.
Ethan turned to Naomi. “Well, what about you? Still committed to sticking around, even if I go back to working eighty-hour weeks for a synagogue that tried to censure us?”
“Are you kidding? I told you, proving people wrong is my favorite pastime. Besides, I’ve got a lot of new ideas for recruitment.”
Ethan tilted his head. “What kind of ideas?”
He had a feeling he should sit down, but Naomi grabbed his hand and led him toward where Morey and Leah stood waving glasses of what he was sure was the bar’s most expensive champagne.
Naomi shot him a wink, and he went up in smoke.
“You’ll see.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
NINE MONTHS LATER...
NAOMI GRANT HATEDweddings. She had long believed things worked out better for everyone involved if she simply sent a big fat check along with well-wishes in her stead. But this was Clara and Josh’s wedding, she reasoned as Ethan pulled up in front of their Sonoma Airbnb. These were her best friends, and over the years they’d supported her through a lot worse than exchanging vows.
The little house off the vineyard was surprisingly lovely—even when taking the hefty price tag into consideration—with a balcony off the bedroom. She rested her elbows atop the wrought-iron railing and let the wind blow her hair off her face. The setting sun bathed the groves in embers of orange.
After a while, she wandered back inside, leaving the door open, inviting in the heady scent of grapes a breath from ripeness. A bit more investigating around the space revealed a claw-foot tub big enough for two.
Downstairs in the living room, she found Ethan puttering around, working to build a fire in the stone fireplace—more for ambiance, she assumed, than warmth. She poured them both big glasses of Cabernet—a thoughtful gift from their hosts—and reclined on the sofa to work on her maid of honor speech.
Okay, so she was mostly admiring Ethan while thinking vaguely about writing her speech—but to be fair, that was not an unusual part of her process.
She let the dry black cherry and cedar flavor flow across her tongue, watching Ethan’s forearms flex as he worked. As he bent over to stack some logs, she crossed her legs and took another deep sip, admiring the way his jeans cupped his ass. It had been a while since she’d gotten in some quality, uninterrupted ogling time.
They were both usually so busy. Him managing the steady influx of congregants and renovation at Beth Elohim, and her with packaging their seminar series for a national tour while keeping Shameless growing. Luckily, they didn’t have to be at the rehearsal dinner for a few hours.
Ethan started crawling backward on his knees to retrieve a new log from the pile beside the grate.
With an ass like that, he could have been a terrible person and she still would have fallen for him. It was really lucky that he was such a sweetheart so she could go to sleep at night, well-laid and guilt-free.
But all of Ethan’s goodness aside, Naomi was not buying for a second the doe-eyed innocent look he was putting on right now. He knew exactly how horny he made her.
In all fairness, he probably didn’t know that she’d spent most of the six-hour car ride from L.A. thinking about his tongue. But honestly, they’d been together long enough at this point that he probably should have been able to guess.
She had a very active imagination. He leaned forward again to place some kindling, and Naomi indulged in a little moan.
“Everything okay over there?” Ethan got to his feet, his beard masking half a frown.
“Did you know,” she said, putting her wineglass down on the coffeetable and padding across the hardwood floor to join him in front of the fireplace, “that you are supremely fuckable?”