Chapter 12 Daksh
DAKSH
He sipped his single beer and watched her field call after call with her team, his idiot brother, and her father.
And from what he saw, she had the situation well under control.
And yet, the woman sitting across him showed no signs of relaxing.
She sat in an upscale beach shack, her long, shapeless, sludge brown dress fluttering in the breeze around her, her hair pulled back in a ruthless braid, and her back ramrod straight.
But then he supposed it was hard to sit comfortably when you had a righteous poker jammed up your arse.
He forked up another prawn and popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly and listening with half a ear as she finished her fifteenth call of the hour.
“Call me as soon as you get confirmation,” she instructed anxiously, her fingers twisting restlessly in the folds of her gunny sack dress. He supposed it was an improvement on the kurtas and leggings she seemed to wear like a uniform otherwise.
She dropped the phone on to the table and picked up her glass of water, taking a small sip of it almost like she was rationing it. The waiter brought over her grilled fish, with sauce on the side and he watched her pick through her steamed vegetables carefully.
“All under control?” he asked.
Her head snapped up, her shoulders straightening, as she replied, “Yes, of course.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that hmm supposed to mean?” she asked suspiciously, nibbling on a broccoli floret.
“Nothing,” he said, his voice neutral as his calamari arrived. “I don’t know anything about real work and real offices remember?”
He smiled up at the waiter as he served out the dish, refusing the offer of another beer. Once the man had left, he picked up his fork and started on his meal.
“I’m sorry.”
Daksh dropped his fork, shock loosening the muscles in his body.
Vedika turned lobster red, her cheeks glowing with embarrassment. “That comment was rude and…”
“Presumptuous?” Daksh offered.
She went from lobster red to fire engine red.
“Judgemental?” he asked.
She shook her head, pressing her glass of water to her heated cheeks. “I wasn’t-“
“Snotty?” he interrupted, a small smile teasing his lips.
She glared at him but he saw it…he saw the twitch of her lips that she ruthlessly suppressed.
“My brother,” he said now, leaning back in his chair and grinning at her, “keeps telling me how sweet, shy and fragile you are.”
She mimicked his movement, leaning back in her chair and relaxing, a fork with a carrot speared on to its tip in her hand. “What can I say?” she murmured. “Your brother brings out the best in me.”
“And I bring out the worst?” he asked, chuckling.
“I’d say we bring out the worst in each other,” she amended, smiling along with him.
It was remarkable what the smile did to her face.
She was a pretty girl even when she was red faced and glowering at him.
But with that smile lighting her up from the inside out, she was beautiful, the kind of effortless beauty that you never tired of.
He was finally starting to see what his brother saw in her.
“Oh Ms. Thakkar, I’m sorry,” he said. “This is far from my worst. I promise you, I’m capable of being far worse.”
“Please don’t feel the need to exert yourself on my behalf,” she murmured.
Daksh laughed. “Shy and submissive, you’re not,” he told her, pointing his fork at her. The calamari at the end shook with emphasis.
She pointed her carrot wielding fork at him. “Lost and awkward, you’re not,” she tossed back.
Daksh tapped his fork against hers in a toast. “To shattering misconceptions about us.”
Vedika grinned, tapping his fork violently enough to send his calamari tumbling to the sand beneath their feet. Daksh grumbled under his breath as she proclaimed, “To being someone other than ourselves.”
He speared a prawn and waggled it at her. “I’ll bet you this prawn you can’t do one out of comfort zone thing while we’re stuck here.”
Vedika leaned over the table, her lips closing over the prawn and pulling it off his fork in a clean, tidy move. Daksh blinked at his empty fork still pointing up in the air.
“I already did. I’m sitting here, eating lunch with Tarzan, aren’t I?”
Daksh threw his head back and laughed, the sound filling the crowded shack and making people glance over at them.
Vedika started to giggle and the unexpected sound set him off again. “Tarzan?” he asked, wiping the tears of laughter dampening his cheeks.
“King of the jungle and all that.” She shrugged, still smiling as she forked up a piece of fish.
“That’s the lion, Mouse,” he informed her, still chuckling. “But I’ll take it. Tarzan is a compliment.”
“Only you would think so,” she retorted dryly.
A companionable silence fell over the table, the first since they’d run into each other. “Are you looking forward to the wedding?” she asked now as she took another small bite of her meal.
“Are you?” Daksh asked, deflecting neatly. He didn’t think Vedika was ready to know exactly how little he was looking forward to her wedding.
“Of course,” she said, the reply sounding like it had been rehearsed.
“I’m looking forward to us starting our lives together.
We have so many plans. We even have our five year plan colour coded on excel.
The ten year plan,” she continued, attacking her fish with a little too much force, “needs some more work.”
Daksh paused, his beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “It sounds riveting,” he said finally.
“You’re being judgemental,” she retorted, an eyebrow quirking in challenge. “Presumptuous, and snotty.”
“What can I say, Mouse?” Daksh grumbled. “You’re a bad influence. And heaven help me, you’re rubbing off on me.”
Laughter bubbled out of her as she sat back in her chair, her meal forgotten. “I’m a bad influence?” she chortled.
Daksh eyed her over the rim of his beer bottle, a strange flutter of something in his chest making him pat it with one hand.
“I love it,” she declared. “I’ve waited a long time to be a bad influence. And look, finally, we’re here.”
“Yeah,” Daksh agreed quietly, watching her with growing disquiet. “We’re here.”