2. Sona
SONA
H ad I remembered to fix the typo before uploading the quiz for my students?
I stood by the luggage carousel, questioning my sanity as tired bags swam past me on a lazy river of smudged, slatted steel. The look of fatigue and disinterest those bags managed to exude made my two-days-of-no-sleep body seem perky in comparison.
Life of a teacher, Dr. Sona Thomas!
The only things I had on my mind were a shower and a long nap.
“ Who’s coming to get me?” I asked, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder with one hand and trying to hold my tote with the other.
“Mihir,” Tara said at the other end. “You know him. I’ve mentioned him only a thousand times.”
“Yes, but how do I find him? It’s not like I remember what he looks like.”
“Seriously, Sona?” I could practically see Tara rolling her eyes.
“Hey, give me a break. I’ve been up for thirty hours.”
She harrumphed. “Here’s a shorthand description. Tall, very tall. Good-looking— very good-looking. Dark onyx eyes. And a beard. You’ll recognize him by his beard.”
“Okay, got it. Very tall, annoyingly handsome, and a scary beard.”
I spotted my distinctive navy blue bag with brown stripes floating toward me. I extended my arm to grab it, but before I could, a large hand came from behind me and hauled it off the belt as if it were a child’s toy.
“Excuse me, I think that’s mine,” I said to a broad chest framed in a luxurious, tailored suit. A crisp designer tie met my nose as I leaned in for the bag.
“Yes, I believe it is,” a deep voice from the chest replied.
I looked up and saw a smile beneath dark, onyx eyes.
“Mihir?”
“I believe your description was very tall and annoyingly handsome, but I take offense at the scary beard part. I spend a lot of time making sure it’s not.” He aimed the last comment at my phone, knowing full well that Tara was on the other end. “Hi, Sona.”
My face flamed, although I was still absorbing the full impact of his magnificence.
“Do you have another bag?” he asked.
“No, that’s it,” I replied as Tara’s voice reached my ears again.
“I guess you found him,” she said with laughter in her voice.
“He found me. See you soon.”
“Shall we?” Mihir said, rolling my bag behind him.
I followed him through the automatic doors, past weary travelers waiting for their rides, and over the walkway.
I huffed a breath, unable to match his long strides across the pedestrian crossing on the arrivals ramp. “Slow down.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said and got in step with me. “Nice to meet you, by the way. Welcome to Dallas.”
“Thank you,” I replied, slightly embarrassed. “Nice to finally meet you. Thank you for coming to get me.”
“No problem.”
As we reached the row of cars in the parking garage, he handed off the bag to a driver in a sharp uniform who popped the trunk of a jet-black Lexus LS and glided the heavy bag inside.
“I’m usually a bit more alert than this,” I offered sheepishly as Mihir held the door open for me. “I’ve been up a long time, getting things done before the trip.”
He smiled back, a measured but decidedly gorgeous smile.
The flight from JFK to DFW wasn’t a long one in absolute terms. A nonstop flight takes just under four hours, but it had felt interminable. I’d tried to rest my scratchy, burning eyes, but the two chatty passengers behind me kept flirting loudly and badly. I’d spent half the time cringing and the other half intrigued by what passed as flirtation these days.
“I’m sorry about the scary beard comment,” I said softly as we both buckled our seatbelts, and the driver pulled into the bright Texas sunlight. “I was only trying to annoy Tara.”
He threw me a glance as we merged into the two exit lanes off the ramp. “What about the annoyingly handsome bit? What does that mean?”
This unexpected question made me lower my eyes on instinct.
“Something that balances out the scary beard part,” I said coyly.
I was someone who blushed and flushed at the drop of a hat, but that didn’t mean I was timid. I could dole it out to the fiercest of people, and this delightful-smelling man was one of them.
He gave a short, soft laugh. “I’m kind of insulted, though, that you didn’t know what I look like. Has Tara never shared my pictures with you? She’s shown me plenty of yours.”
“Maybe she loves me a little more than she does you,” I teased.
This time, his smile grew a little wider.
Tara, my closest friend and sister from another life, had relocated from Brooklyn to Dallas. A free-spirited, talented artist, she was also a much sought-after art consultant. During the summer, she’d come to Dallas for a three-month consultation job, reconnected with her ex, Sameer, and moved in with him at the end of her contract.
The tall, annoyingly handsome man escorting me to her place was Sameer’s closest friend. Over the few months Tara had known him, he had also become her friend and confidant, and I was already a tad jealous.
“Is this your first time in Dallas?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes, I’ve always lived on the East Coast.”
“What do you think of it so far?”
I hesitated. “How would you like for me to answer that? The truth or pandering?”
“Truth, always.”
“Well, then here’s what I think. It’s flat and brown.”
A gentle laugh. “Can’t blame you for that. That’s how I felt when I came back home after college. The north is picturesque, but Texas has its own charm.”
“If you say so,” I said, stifling an embarrassing yawn.
“We’ll take a while to reach Tara’s. Why don’t you try and catch a nap?” he offered, and I sat upright instantly.
“No, I’m alright,” I lied to alleviate my embarrassment.
“You said you’d been up for a while. How long, exactly?”
I glanced at my phone. “Going on thirty-one hours now.”
“That’s a long time. Why were you up?”
“I had a revision deadline, and I had to design quizzes for my classes and finish grading. I didn’t want to bring work here.”
This time when I looked at his face, my brain erupted in sparks. I may have possibly damaged some neural connections in the process. Those dark eyes were brilliant and full of wisdom. His lashes were not too dark or too long, just enough to add allure and enigma to the eyes. The thick mane on his head was shiny, black, and luxurious. The lips framed by his trimmed, full beard were shapely, plush, and the color of a pink rose. I suspected he was hiding chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jawline underneath that facial hair. I had never seen anyone so good-looking, so intimidatingly flawless, up close. Tiny beads of sweat began forming on my forehead, and I felt heat creeping up my neck. I could’ve blamed it on the October heat, but I was in a car that was cooled to perfection.
He lowered the center console between our seats and slid it open.
“The recline setting is in here.”
My gaze landed on his hands when he pointed to the digital display. My tired body silently thanked him for the mercy. Then, as I reclined my seat, my vulgar eyes checked out his thighs. Thick, but firm and strong. That was my last thought before I slipped into slumber under a magic spell.
When my eyes opened again, Mihir and I were alone in the car. We were parked in a multilevel garage, engine running, cool air blowing from the vents. My head was nestled in the hollow of Mihir’s neck. I registered briefly that his tailor had not needed any padding in the shoulders before bolting upright.
He casually lowered his arm, reading on the phone with his free hand.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said as he swiped at his phone with his thumb.
“How long have we been sitting here?”
He looked at his watch. “About fifteen minutes. How do you feel?”
“Much better. Thank you for letting me finish my nap.”
“I have great faith in the power of naps,” he said and handed me a bottle of water. “Here, this will help you stay hydrated.”
As I cracked open the bottle and sipped, my body turned warm again. I was getting intensely hot about this annoyingly handsome man, who was also turning out to be rather considerate. And it bothered me.
“Are you ready to go inside?” he asked.
I nodded, and while he retrieved my bag from the trunk, I quickly and discreetly popped a mint into my mouth.
“You talk in your sleep,” he said as we approached the elevators.
“No, I don’t,” I responded with conviction as we stepped onto one.
He looked at me with a tiny tug at the corners of his mouth, then looked at the numbers counting up. “You drool too.”
“I don’t think so, or your sleeve would be wet and stained right now.” I outwitted his needling with confidence.
When the elevator dinged for the 23 rd floor, he rolled my bag, despite my protests, into Tara and Sameer’s condo. It was in uptown Dallas, she’d told me. I hadn’t yet familiarized myself with the geography of the city. It was ironic, considering I’m a geographer.
“And you snore,” he added as he punched a code on the numeric keypad.
“I most definitely do not.”
He clenched his jaw to prevent himself from reacting. Leading me into the condo, he walked to the anterior and opened a door.
“This is one of their larger guest rooms. Knowing Tara, I’m willing to bet it’s ready for you.”
I nodded and entered the room. He was right. It was ready for me, complete with my favorite chocolates in the candy dish.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Tara should be here shortly. Meanwhile, there’s the bathroom if you wish to freshen up.” He pointed to a door inside the room.
“Pardon my curiosity, but you seem to know an awful lot about this house.”
This time, he did smile. “Sameer has had this condo for a while now, and I’ve spent many a drunken night in the guest room. He is family, and now, so is Tara.”
I gritted my teeth as another tinge of jealousy stung me. He leaned in with a tiny, almost indiscernible smirk. “I hope it’s not envy I smell.”
I snorted. “No, it’s the airplane. I’ll freshen up,” I responded curtly and stepped toward the bathroom.
I was tempted to jump into the shower, but I didn’t know what Mihir’s plans were. I didn’t want to be gone for too long. Instead, I brushed and changed, then reapplied my perfume and lipstick.
As I stepped out of the room, a familiar aroma of chai tickled my nose. My senses perked up instantly. I gathered Tara was back and making me tea just the way I like it.
“Tara!” I called out before I reached the kitchen.
But it wasn’t her. To my amazement, it was the gorgeous man, standing in the kitchen in a suit and a tie, making tea. What?
“Tara isn’t here yet,” he said, offering me a glass of water.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, grabbing the water in slow motion.
“Making tea for you. Cardamom, no ginger, right?”
My jaw dropped. That was my pet line, my takiya kalam. “Tea, cardamom, no ginger.” My answer to Bond’s Vodka Martini, shaken, not stirred . That he knew this unsettled me.
He read my expression. “Blame Tara. She’s mentioned it many times over, and unfortunately, I have a terribly good memory.”
With a small sieve that he’d pulled out from one of the drawers, he poured the tea into a mug for me. “And here you go. Hope it’s up to your standards. I’ve heard you’re a tea snob.”
“Is there anything you don’t know about me?” I quipped.
“Again, I suggest you blame Tara. She misses you terribly and keeps talking about you.”
“None for you?” I asked, gratefully accepting the mug of that magical potion.
“I don’t drink tea, but I thought you needed it after the travel and a sleepless night.”
“Thank you,” I said to his back as he placed the pan and the sieve in the sink and put away containers of tea and sugar in a cabinet.
This was precisely how familiar I’d been with Tara’s home when she lived in Brooklyn. Now, I was the stranger, and he was hosting me in my best friend’s home. I fumed for a moment, but with one sip of the tea, I was calm as a drugged sea monster.
“The amount of sugar in this…” I said, and he looked at me.
Leaning against the kitchen island, he crossed his feet at the ankles and his arms across that broad chest. “Yes?” He cocked a smile. He knew what I was going to say.
“It’s perfect.” There, I had said it. “I might be furious at you, but I’m afraid I can’t lie. This is just how I like it.”
“Thank you,” he said, pushing himself off the counter. “Now, let’s settle in the living room while you tell me why you’re furious at me.”