Chapter 6 #2
She could feel her heartbeat accelerate. A small part of her wondered if Hem would ask about her weekend plans again. She was so disappointed when he didn’t. As complicated as their situation was, this surprise was so much better.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to tamper her joy.
“Relaxing after a very long week.” He glared at Raj’s security, and to Mina’s shock, the man stepped to the side.
In seconds she was enveloped by the scent and presence of the man who’d plagued her thoughts.
Instead of taking Raj’s seat, he collapsed on the small available space next to her and draped an arm along the back of the sofa.
“What’s with the muscle?”
“He’s my friend’s hire. She sometimes gets a lot of negative attention.”
“Oh? Where’s your friend?”
“The Fire Lounge.”
Hem’s eyebrow shot up. “Well, well. You keep interesting company if you know someone who is heading to the windowless, camera- less room.”
Mina grinned. “I thought you didn’t know about this place.”
“I asked around. I’m glad you invited me out.”
He may be distracting, but he kept her on her toes, and that was sexy all by itself. “Technically, I didn’t invite you. I hinted at an invite.”
“Oh? Is that what it was? My mistake. But since I’m here . . .”
“This is the shit people do late on Friday nights when they aren’t working?
” Zail’s voice broke through Mina’s trance, and she jolted when the youngest Singh draped his huge body in the sofa across from her.
His hair hung loose around his shoulders, and he wore a button- down that fit him just as snugly as Hem’s.
“Zail Singh. It’s a . . . okay. I didn’t expect you to be here, too.”
“We can skip the formalities,” Zail said with a wave of his hand. “Especially since I’m here as a wingman in case you make him cry. Wow, I can barely hear myself think in this place. People come here for fun?”
The Ice Palace was in full swing and although the VIP section was quieter, the walls practically vibrated from the noise. Mina inched away, trying to create some space between herself and the hot, hard body next to her.
“To be completely honest, it’s not my first choice.”
“Mine either,” Zail mumbled. “I think I need a drink.”
“Hear, hear,” Hem said. He pointed to Mina’s glass. “Want a whiskey?”
“No, a martini. I don’t like whiskey. It always smelled too strong for me.”
The pained looks of horror that flashed across both Hem’s and Zail’s faces were almost comical.
“What about trying it under the guidance of a whiskey expert?” Hem said.
“And that expert would be you?”
Zail ticked to fingers against his forehead. “And me. As the third wheel. Always the damn third wheel.”
Mina snorted. “I don’t know. Martinis are a sure thing for me.”
Hem pressed a hand to his chest. “Think of this as an adventure. I can take care of you.”
“I’m sure you can,” she murmured.
His eyes narrowed on hers, and her breath caught at the hunger she saw reflected in them. “Are you asking for something more than whiskey, Mina Kohli?”
“No, I— no. Whiskey. Fine. I’ll try just the whiskey for now.” She flagged down a waitress even as she fought to control the tingles coursing through her body.
When a woman with leotard- clad hips approached them, Zail took the lead. He ordered three different brands. “And two of each, one neat, one on the rocks. And water backs, please.”
The woman nodded before she walked away.
“Why did you order six?” Mina asked.
“Because you need to try a variety to really learn how to drink,” Hem replied.
A few moments later, six whiskeys were placed on the cafe table in front of them with three waters. Hem handed her a tumbler and took one for himself. Zail examined two different glasses before opting for whiskey neat.
They held up their glasses and shouted “Maujaa!”
Mina grinned at the toast and sipped her drink. The alcohol burned her throat, and the bitterness lingered in her mouth like a bad taste. “That’s . . . not that bad,” she said.
“What? It’s great! Okay, try this.”
Mina shook her head. “Two is my limit.” Ever since her mother’s accident, she was militant about her alcohol consumption outside of her home.
Hem turned to face her, mouth agape. “What the hell do you mean, two is your limit? When was the last time you went to a Punjabi wedding?”
“Uh, probably the last one that you were also attending?”
Zail choked on his second glass.
Two scantily clad women waved at Zail from the next couch over. Their dresses were practically sheer, and they flipped bleached hair and pouted glossy lips. “Do you need a chaser?” one said.
“Because we can help you with that,” the other one added.
Zail glared and made a twirling motion with his finger. Mina muffled a laugh as they squeaked and immediately turned around in their seats.
“What about a basic desi party?” Hem pressed. “Haven’t you had a few drinks at a Diwali celebration? Holi? Any of those.”
Mina shrugged. “The only parties I attend are the ones that I’m forced to make an appearance at because of my uncles.”
A look passed between Zail and Hem. Mina didn’t bother asking what that was about. She knew how terrible her uncles were.
“Okay fair enough,” Hem said. His knees spread a little farther apart and bumped into hers. She didn’t pull away. “What if tonight you make an exception? It’s been a long week, and I promise I won’t let anything happen to you if you do.”
She saw the sincerity in his face, and there was something about the way that he leaned forward with eyebrows raised that reminded her this was different than her mother’s situation.
“You can trust us,” Zail said solemnly. “We’re trusting you, too.”
Mina desperately needed to cut some of the tension that had been stretching her so taught that she thought she’d snap. With a deep inhale and exhale, she held out a hand to Zail. “Fine.”
Zail’s face brightened and that overwhelming Singh aura he possessed was overshadowed by boyish charm. He slipped a tumbler into her hand. “Suck another one down, Kohli. It’s time to be educated.”
She had to admit, she was curious how whiskey neat, whiskey on the rocks, and all of the different shades of amber liquid differed.
She looked at Hem and raised her glass. “Maujaa,” she said.
Hem grinned and repeated the toast before they tossed back their drinks together.
The burn was a welcome, warm sensation. It tasted different. Smoother this time.
“Guys? I think I like this whiskey,” she said as the familiar fuzziness began to creep into the corners of her consciousness.
“That’s our distillery’s brand,” Hem said with a smile.
“Really?” Mina examined her glass. “You definitely know your whiskey then.”
“Let’s get you another round.” Hem moved closer to her, and she relaxed against his side. His smell was intoxicating and she enjoyed it like a heady drug.
“Is this what you brothers do together?” Mina asked.
“When we get together these days, it’s usually business, but every now and then we like to finish a couple bottles, yes.”
“A couple bottles?”
Hem brushed a curl over her shoulder and cupped the back of her neck. “A couple bottles, Mina.”
She shivered under his touch and watched Hem’s eyes darken. Before he could lean closer, or she could close the gap between them, a waitress placed six more glasses in front of them with different shades of liquid, half with ice and half without.
“This one has peach nectar, and this has cherry.” She motioned to Mina. “If you’re more of a flavored martini drinker, this might be to your taste.”
Zail waved a hand. “Oh, she won’t want that?— ”
“I do. Thank you,” Mina said. When the waitress left again, she turned to Zail. “Don’t speak for me, Zail Singh. Your pants may be bigger than mine, but mine will always be bigger than…yours. Or something like that.”
The youngest Singh held his hands up. “It tastes gross with that stuff in it but if you want that garbage, you’re more than welcome to it.”
Mina reached for the peach one first. “Maujaa!” she shouted and tilted the glass back. The bitterness was dulled by the rich, juicy taste of fruit nectar. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”
“Oh…shit,” Hem said. “Zail.”
“Yeah, I know. This is on you, brother.”
She wiggled closer to Hem as he rubbed her arm in long delicious strokes. Her thoughts were beginning to get fuzzy. She wasn’t this forward, this obvious with men ever, but with Hem, it was so natural.
“Why don’t you slow down before you try the next one? Want to order some food?”
“What, isn’t this what you said you guys do? Isn’t this how the Punjabis drink?”
“Yeah, but it usually involves conversation, too. Not just who can down the most juice the fastest,” Hem said.
Mina was feeling way too good for food. “I’m not really that hungry, so why don’t we talk? Do you speak Punjabi, too? Or do you only toast in the language?”
Hem pressed his lips to the shell of her ear and her eyes practically rolled back at the soft heat of his breath. “What do you think?” he said in Punjabi.
She had to squeeze her thighs together and bit her lip to hold back the groan. His voice, plus accent, was pure sin.
She needed some distance but damned if she had the strength to take it right at that moment. She was getting too light- headed to make sound decisions. “Let’s have another.”
“Mina maybe we slow down,” Zail said when Mina snatched the cherry- flavored whiskey out of his hand and tossed it back.
“Maujaa!” she shouted and slammed the glass down on the table. Her body felt like it was melting now. Mina shook her hair out of her face. The buzz felt wonderful. Hem’s close proximity to her felt wonderful, too.
“Let’s have another!” she said, and while Hem and Zail argued with her, she managed to get the waitress to replace her drinks.
She asked them to tell her their favorite whiskey stories, distracting them as she enjoyed the sweet bitterness that stung the tip of her tongue and coated her throat.
As the brothers spoke, she could see the love they shared with each other, the humor that came with childhood memories.
At one point, Zail threw ice cubes at his brother for recounting the time after he drank too much, he got sick and then their mother chased him with a rolling pin.
After half an hour, Zail stood and motioned to the stairs. “I’m going to bail,” he said. “She wants to spend more time with you than me. Unless you need help?”
“No, I’m good,” Hem said, as if Mina wasn’t even there. “But I’ll call you if I do.”
Mina shot up in her seat. “I beg your pardon. I am right here and I can take care of myself just fine.” She grabbed her fifth— or was it sixth?— drink and tipped it back. She could barely taste it now. Her body was singing with so much feeling.
“Take care, sweetheart,” Zail said with a chuckle before he leaned down to press a kiss on her cheek. “See you in the office.” She could feel Hem’s growl deep in his chest, like he was a damned animal.
“What was that?” she asked him after Zail slipped through the crowd.
“Nothing,” he said curtly.
She reached up and brushed at the line forming between his brows. “It sounded all grumbly.” Her hand ran over the center of his chest, enjoying the feel of his hard, chiseled muscles. “I felt it from here. It’s just so . . . cute.”
Hem stroked a fingertip over her knee and teased the skin under the hem of her short dress. “I didn’t expect you to be such an adorable drunk.”
“I’m adorable, but also astute. I’m weak enough to admit that I like you all grumpy just because your brother gave me a smooch.”
Hem didn’t reply.
Mina let out a deep sigh, swaying back and forth to the music. It was as if she was floating on a cloud. “I don’t date but if they’re all like this, I could be tempted.”
Hem coughed just as he took a sip from his whiskey glass he’d been holding for the last hour. “Wait, wait, wait. Back up. You don’t date at all?”
“Sometimes,” Mina said. She shrugged and it made her dizzy. “It’s too hard to juggle a man- baby and a job. Also, I’m tall. And smart. It tends to piss people off.”
Hem looked genuinely bewildered. “You just listed two things that are incredibly sexy. How does that piss people off?”
“Man-babies are insecure.” She pointed to her crotch. “Which is why it’s just me and B.O.B. The battery- operated purple boyfriend of joy.”
“Goddamn, Mina.”
“Let’s cheers again, Hem,” she said cheerfully. “Maujaa!” This time, when she swallowed the last of her whiskey, it felt thick and greasy in her stomach. She pressed both hands to her waist and groaned.
“Mina? You okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve been drinking pretty fast for the last, what, hour? Why don’t we slow down for a bit? I’ll get you some water to drink.”
Mina nodded and slumped against the couch. All thoughts of sex and seduction dissipated as her skin grew clammy. Was this what drinking a lot was supposed to feel like? Didn’t it take longer than, what, seven or eight drinks? The last time she’d been this intoxicated was after her bar exam.
The nausea hit fast and furious. She’d only been downing whiskey for a short period of time. Granted, she hadn’t eaten a lot of food, but that shouldn’t make too much of a difference, right? Bile rose like a bubbling pot ready to overflow.
Fuck it, even her fog- brain could register that there was no graceful way to get out of her current predicament now.
“Hem? I’m going to sick.”
He barely managed to get her into the private bathroom in the VIP lounge before she threw up every last shot of whiskey that she’d tried that night.