Free Month of Sundays by Yolanda Wallace Page A

it’s time you got used to something else.”
    Rachel wasn’t ready for this conversation. No way. No how. She liked spending time with Griffin, but after the comment she made in B&B about not wanting kids, Rachel thought it best if she didn’t get too involved with her. They could meet for lunch or dinner each Sunday like they planned, but as friends, not potential lovers.
    As she tried to keep from wondering how being friends with benefits would work, she noticed a Cream of the Crop marathon was playing on TV. She jerked her chin at the screen. “I adore that show. Are you familiar with it?”
    Griffin was noncommittal, her expression uncharacteristically muted. “I’ve seen a couple of episodes, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan.”
    “I would. It’s one of my guilty pleasures. I’m not sure what I’m addicted to more—the food porn or the contestants’ histrionics. You should try out for it.”
    “Why?”
    “I’d rather watch you compete than the arrogant assholes who think they’re the best thing since sliced bread.”
    Griffin smiled. “How do you know I’m not an arrogant asshole, too?”
    “If you were, I think you would have shown your true colors by now.”
    “So you trust me?”
    “In my experience, it isn’t in my best interest to trust beautiful women.”
    “I don’t quite know how to respond to that. Should I thank you for the compliment or work even harder to gain your trust?” Griffin answered her own question. “I think I’ll do both.”
    When the party finally began to break up, Rachel offered to clean the kitchen while Jane and Colleen entertained the last of their guests. Griffin joined her. In her element, Griffin rolled up her sleeves and took control. “I’ll rinse and you’ll load?” she asked, filling half of the double sink with warm water.
    “Yes, chef.”
    Griffin flicked a dish towel at her, but Rachel could tell by the playful glint in her eye that she enjoyed being teased. Note to self: tease her more often.
    They quickly found a rhythm. Griffin scraped dried food into the garbage disposal, rinsed a dirty plate or dish, and handed it to Rachel so she could load it into the dishwasher. Then they did it over and over again.
    “What are you doing for Christmas?” Griffin asked.
    “I don’t have to go back to work until Tuesday, so after the obligatory family dinner with my parents on Christmas Eve, I’m going to put my feet up and enjoy the long weekend. Unless, of course, I give in to temptation and head to the office. I get more work done on the weekends when no one’s around and the phone isn’t ringing off the hook. What about you? What are you going to do before you cook dinner for all us poor slobs who are too lazy to do it for ourselves?”
    “Cook lunch for people who can’t afford a decent meal.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “My family feeds the less fortunate every Christmas and Thanksgiving. Even though I haven’t been able to be with them this year, I’ve tried to keep the tradition going. For Thanksgiving, I convinced Kathleen and Ava to open the restaurant for lower-income families. We’re going to be closed on Christmas Day, so I’m going to head up to the Bronx. A friend of mine runs a soup kitchen up there, and I offered to help her serve meals to the homeless.”
    “Is it too late to change my answer? Way to make me look bad.” Rachel nudged Griffin with her hip to show her she was being only mock serious. Griffin nudged right back.
    Drop-dead gorgeous and a sense of humor. Talk about the total package. Well, almost.
    Griffin had a lot of good qualities, but before tonight, Rachel would have sworn the only thing she took seriously was her job. Her passion for cooking was so great any woman in her life must feel like a mistress. Rachel wasn’t up for another round of feeling second best.
    She placed a serving platter in the dishwasher. “When I make my New Year’s resolutions each January, I always resolve to donate my time to a