Page 72 of This Could Be Us

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Page 72 of This Could Be Us

Delores makes a strangled sound between a chuckle and a harrumph.

Shit.When will I learn to govern my mouth? Delores seems to bring out the sassy in me.

“True. Her food is inedible,” Delores agrees with no apparent animosity. “It’s been pointed out to me that using her every year could smack of nepotism.”

I stall, hearing the echo of a past conversation in which I told Judah the exact same thing. “Hey, Delores, what prompted you to approach me?”

“Didn’t you have a salad dressing go viral or something? A lot of people in the office were talking about that. We want that too.”

“So I had a vinaigrette go viral,” I say, allowing a sliver of my disbelief to creep in. “And now you want me to cater your holiday party?”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Send me the details and we’ll see.”

“Check your text messages.”

I pull the phone away and check my messages. The amount she’s proposing is as much as I made in the last three weeks combined. How can I not?

I pull the phone back to my ear.

“I guess we have a deal.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

JUDAH

I’m tempted to ignore the phone when it rings. For once I’m not working on a Saturday night. I was excited to give my career the attention I hadn’t been able to early on and am grateful for the opportunity at CalPot, but being a director at one of the largest companies in the state is incredibly demanding. The boys need so much during the week that I often bring lots of work home on the weekends.

But even I have to watch when Georgia plays FloridaatGeorgia. I’m kicking myself now for turning down the season tickets we get through the office, even though I, like the boys, sometimes get overwhelmed in crowds that huge. I haven’t gone to as many games the last few years as I would have liked.

But I do watch.

I ordered wings. I have cold beer. I’m set for a kid-less, workless night. But my phone ringing on the weekend is usually the boys or my job. I can’t ignore either.

When I dash from the living room to the kitchen to catch the call, I’m not expecting to see Soledad’s name on-screen. Definitely worth missing kickoff.

“Soledad, hey.”

“Oh, I wasn’t sure you saved my contact from when we texted before.”

“I did, and apparently you saved mine,” I reply, leaning back against the center island.

A breath of a laugh drifts across the line, and I smile because that’s as close as I ever come to flirting, and I think I did okay.

“Yeah, well, Delores called me.”

“Huh. Okay.”

“She asked me to cater the Christmas party.”

“Which Christmas party?”

“Really, Judah?”

“What?” A low laugh slips out, and I cross one arm over my chest. “You think I had something to do with that?”

“I do, and…” She draws a quick breath. “Is it okay if I come in for a bit to talk?”




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