Chapter 23
Sitting at a wobbly high-top table, Rohit ran his palms along its scuffed edge and looked around the downstairs game room of the Leprechaun Trap.
He’d never ventured into the basement before, but the same nondescript, classic rock music drifted through the speakers, perfectly offsetting the yellowing, wood-paneled walls and the scent of stale beer.
Yet Rohit felt like he was in a parallel universe.
Unlike the last time, when he’d wandered in and decided to shoot his shot with Cynthia, this time, she had invited him out—with her friends, no less.
From across the room, Rohit watched Cynthia sink another dart a fraction of an inch away from the center of the board’s target before raising her arms in triumph at an amused Naomi.
Cynthia, too, was the same but different.
She was relaxed and easygoing—the polar opposite of the woman to whom he’d felt an instant attraction.
But as she hit a bull’s-eye with effortless grace, he experienced that same rush that had ricocheted through him the first time he’d seen her. She was still so fierce.
He tugged at the collar of his shirt before downing the rest of his now-tepid beer. Was there anything this woman could do that wouldn’t turn him on? Because he was seriously contemplating dredging up some more stolen movie lines and taking her home.
“Do you want another drink?”
Rohit barely heard the question coming from somewhere to his left as he lifted his empty glass to his lips while watching, riveted, as Cynthia carefully angled herself, her lips pressed together, fingers expertly cocking the dart as she studied the target.
The intensity on her face struck a deliciously familiar chord—it was the same one she’d worn, head thrown back, as she’d ridden his face, just moments away from—
“Rohit, do you want another drink?” The voice was more forceful this time.
Startled, Rohit turned to find Naomi’s fiancé, Dev, looking at him, eyebrows raised knowingly.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Rohit asked. He cleared his throat with a nervous chuckle when he realized he was holding an empty glass to his lips.
Dev gave him a long look that was equal parts commiserating and amused before sliding off his bar chair. “I’ll take that as a yes. Be right back.”
“Thanks,” Rohit called to Dev’s departing back before his eyes were unable to resist sliding back to where Cynthia was showing Naomi how to improve her throw.
As if she could feel his eyes boring into the side of her delectable neck, Cynthia glanced over her shoulder and gave him a wicked little half smile, as if she knew exactly what was running through his mind.
Rohit forced himself to look away as Dev made his way back to their table.
It was his first time hanging out with Cynthia’s friends, and it was important that he make the right impression.
She was obviously very selective about whom she spent her free time with, and it made this invitation seem all the more significant.
Besides, the last thing he wanted was to be known as the date who sported an erection in the basement of a tired Irish pub.
When Dev passed him his beer, Rohit barely finished mumbling his thank-you before taking a much-needed swig of the icy liquid.
“So how long have you been seeing Cynthia?” Dev asked.
Rohit choked on his drink. “Uh…Well, we’ve worked together for a while,” he hedged.
He wasn’t sure how much Cynthia had told her friends about him or how much she wanted them to know.
It didn’t feel like they were hiding anything, both in and out of Kumar Construction, but he felt tentative, the trust between them hard-earned and delicate.
The potential to create something beautiful that would withstand the test of time was there, but the bonds between them were too new: still pliable and easily shattered by one clumsy misstep.
He’d never wanted to be more careful in his life. “When’s your wedding?” he asked Dev instead.
Dev scowled at his beer bottle as he picked at the edge of the label. “Not soon enough.”
“Isn’t it the bride that usually stresses about wedding planning?”
“Yeah, well, Naomi doesn’t have to live with my mother.
” The response was delivered with such deadpan, Rohit felt bad for laughing until he caught the slight upturn of Dev’s mouth.
“Seriously, though,” Dev added. “She’s wedding-obsessed and is driving Naomi up the wall, too.
She’s been really patient with Mom.” When Dev turned to look at his fiancée, his dour expression softened, and Rohit couldn’t help but smile.
At least he wasn’t the only one who found it hard to look away.
Rohit considered Naomi, who, next to a skilled player like Cynthia, had been throwing lemons all night and didn’t seem to give a damn.
She was optimism personified, especially next to Dev’s seriousness, and yet anyone in their vicinity could see that she and Dev were well matched.
They fit together in that comfortable way only a couple who had learned to curve around each other’s sharp edges could.
Every time Naomi stole a fry off Dev’s plate or playfully cuffed his shoulder, he looked at her with a level of adoration Rohit had only seen in rom-coms.
“The girls are headed back over here,” Dev said. “Don’t mention the wedding. Naomi spent all afternoon going over seating charts with my mother—she needs a break from the madness.”
Rohit nodded distractedly while trying not to linger on how Cynthia tugged at the hem of her black work dress once she’d taken her seat next to him at the small, round table.
She’d invited him to meet with her and her friends right after work, and whether it was a date or not, it hadn’t crossed Rohit’s mind to say no.
He’d say yes to whatever this woman wanted for the rest of his life if she allowed him the privilege.
God help him, the spirit of Dev’s wedding-obsessed mother was trying to get him, too.
“Okay, Rohit, I think I need to ask the question everyone wants to know,” Naomi announced after helping herself to a drink from Dev’s bottle.
Rohit braced himself and shot a nervous glance at Cynthia.
“And, spoiler alert, we’ve already discussed this behind your back,” Naomi informed him so cheerfully he couldn’t take offense.
“Naomi,” Cynthia said warningly.
“What…” Naomi paused to take another sip, and whether it was for dramatic effect or she was really that thirsty, Rohit wasn’t sure, but the sweat beading his neckline indicated that it was effective nonetheless.
“What,” Naomi repeated, with a mischievous glance at Cynthia, “do you use in your hair to make it look so shiny and thick?”
“I…” Rohit shook his head as the words registered. “Wait, what?”
“It’s true, dude,” Dev said with that seriousness Rohit was never sure he should take seriously. “Your hair is unreal.”
With Dev’s, Naomi’s, and Cynthia’s eyes on him, Rohit wasn’t sure how to react until a small smile cracked Cynthia’s face and she reached out to brush the hair at the nape of his neck.
The moment was as fast and fleeting as the faintest whisper of a breeze on a hot summer day, and yet it was enough to set Rohit’s nerve endings crackling.
“It’s soft, too,” Cynthia informed the table.
“Can we touch it?” Naomi teased.
“She’s kidding,” Dev hurried to add.
“My mom used to massage coconut oil into my scalp when I was a kid,” Rohit said, ducking his head. “I don’t know if that does anything.”
“Maybe Cynthia could carry on the tradition,” Naomi said with mock innocence, earning her a narrowed glance from her friend.
Rohit cleared his throat and tried to think of anything but pointed, black fingernails digging into his hair to work the sensitive skin of his scalp.
He would not, in the middle of this bar, imagine how damn good the pull of strands through those hands would feel.
Just like he wouldn’t let his mind wander to how amazing it had felt when she’d done the same thing when his head had been between her thighs.
Clearing his throat, Rohit took a hasty pull from his beer, aware that everyone’s eyes were on him, tracking his every move.
The knowing look was on Dev’s face again and Rohit couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Cynthia’s hand had drifted back to the nape of his neck to gently play with the hair there.
Rohit was saved from uttering a pornographic groan and never being invited out with her friends ever again when the universe finally took pity on him and his phone vibrated on the tabletop.
His sister’s face flashing across the screen indicated a video call, and Rohit automatically swiped up to answer. “Hey, little sister,” he said, unable to mask the relief in his voice. “Say hi to the group.”
Rohit flipped the phone to face the other members of the table, and everyone waved in return.
He couldn’t help but linger slightly longer on Cynthia than the other two as if proving some kind of point.
It felt suspiciously like pride, and when he realized that he was actually bragging to his sister about hanging out with Cynthia, Rohit hastily turned the phone back to himself.
The smile on Maisa’s face was strained, the corners of her eyes drawn tight.
“Hang on,” he told her, sliding off his stool.
With an apologetic look at Cynthia, Naomi, and Dev, Rohit excused himself.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, before heading outside into the late evening and slipping around the side of the bar, away from the main street.
Rohit leaned back against the red brick wall and eyed his sister through the screen. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, Rohit,” Maisa said in a rush, as if she had been rehearsing her lines. “I didn’t want to bother you with this, but…I really don’t know what else to do.”
A chill spilled through Rohit’s veins. “What’s wrong. Are you okay? Is it Mom or Dad?”
“It’s Dadi.”