The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2)(20)

She’d never gotten the hype before, but damn if having someone defend her good name didn’t make something foreign flutter in her chest.

“We bit our tongues when you hired Naomi Grant because frankly you didn’t tell us until after the first lecture. But now you’re spending more time with her. It’s all a little . . . unseemly. You must understand that people are uncomfortable with her background.”

“Have we not set out to build an inclusive community? Does the Torah not teach us to welcome all who wish to enter our shul?”

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t special. Ethan would have stood up for anyone being maligned unfairly in his presence, but still, being part of the rule instead of the exception had never felt so nice.

An edge of pleading had entered Jonathan’s voice. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person, but the optics are bad, Ethan. Surely you can recognize that.”

“I’ve already given you a few chances now to save yourself in this conversation.” The steel was back behind Ethan’s words. “You’ve ignored all of them, so let me make myself clear. Naomi Grant is providing a valuable service to this congregation, and any unflattering optics you’re accusing her of creating are a direct result of your own prejudice and insecurity. I stand completely by my decision to hire her, and if anyone else on the board has a problem with that, I’m happy to tell them the same thing.”

Ethan’s footsteps moved back toward his office, and Naomi righted her chair with a jolt.

“Don’t forget, Rabbi Cohen,” Jonathan called, “that you serve at the board’s discretion.”

“Have a good night, Jonathan.”

When Ethan arrived back at the entrance to his office, Naomi was already turned to meet his tired eyes.

“Well, he certainly seems like a treat.” She made sure her face was neutral of any emotion. She did not need Ethan trying to comfort her.

He sagged against the wall. “Please tell me you didn’t just hear all of that.”

She pressed a finger to her lips. “I could lie?”

“Ugh. Naomi, I’m so sorry. The board is . . . honestly, they’re old. And they’re scared. They’re not used to change.”

“And yet change is the only thing that can save them,” she said dryly. “How inconvenient.”

“If you don’t want to continue to work for us, especially after that”—he gestured to the door—“I understand.”

It was an easy out. But circumvented defamation couldn’t hold a candle to her ego. Ethan really didn’t know her at all if he thought a few carefully worded warnings would cause her to back down.

“I don’t scare that easily.”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jonathan never should have said those things.”

“I don’t care about what Jonathan said.”

He lowered his hand. “Okay.”

“I care about what you said.” Her mouth was surprisingly dry.

“You heard that too?”

“That’s pretty much how sound works,” she confirmed, feeling lighter already. “I thought you studied physics?”

“I do.” He shook his head. “I mean, I did. I still try to keep up with new theories. As a hobby.”

His hair was in disarray and his shirt was a disaster. Worry was written all over his face. What was wrong with her that she found him more desirable when he was frazzled?

“For someone whose job entails a lot of oration, you’re often tongue-tied.”

“A recent development,” he said, clenching his jaw ruefully, “I can assure you.”

Well, that was flattering.

“Look, people have disapproved of me for over a decade. You know what the best recourse is?”

He shrugged helplessly. “Ignore them?”

“Make every single person who rejected you want you instead.” Naomi smirked. “We’re going to bring in so many members, the board’s gonna beg me to stay.”

Ethan’s brows rose. “You’re not worried about the fact that we’ve had . . . shall we say . . . modest turnout thus far?”

“Nope.” Naomi reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook.

“But I thought . . . what about what you were saying a few minutes ago, about being too busy at work?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Naomi uncapped a pen with her teeth. “Thanks to your pal Jonathan, I’ve got a renewed sense of motivation.” Her desire to make people eat their words had always outweighed her insecurities.

“Oh.” Ethan looked slightly dazed. “So, what do we do?”

Naomi crossed her legs. She had an idea. It was either great or terrible.

“I’d like to bring in a PR consultant.”

Ethan shuffled through the ink-stained papers on his desk, letting out a triumphant little “aha” when he uncovered a spreadsheet. He frowned at the numbers he found there. “I’m not sure we’ve got the budget to cover that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Naomi said. “I know someone who will do it pro bono. She owes me.”

“So, we’re just going to . . .”

“Prove everyone wrong?” She smiled. “Yeah. That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”