The words pinged against the animal part of her brain that was always on the run. She rolled onto the balls of her feet, ready.
Cobra.
No. No, this wasn’t one of her mom’s men, looking to kidnap her again. If he were, he wouldn’t have wasted so much time playing games, he would have done it already. She regulated her breathing and lifted her chin. “I think I do.”
John’s smooth, middle America accent grew clipped. Maybe from impatience? “Come now, don’t cause a scene. If you do—”
“If I do, what?” She twisted her hand away from him. “You’re going to drag me out of a crowded bar? When my boyfriend’s hanging out right over there?” Sejal gestured behind her at the crowded dance floor, hoping someone over there might qualify as her boyfriend.
She didn’t often trot out a fake lover. It limited how much money she could earn. But some men appreciated another man’s dibs more than they respected a no.
“Boyfriend? You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
He glanced around. Slowly, he sat back.
“That’s what I thought.” She turned on her heel and walked away, her heart thudding in her chest.
Where was she going to go?Bear in the woods indeed.
She could signal the bartenders, but that could bring in security, which was the thing she didn’t want. He’d shied away from attention, too, she reminded herself. She just had to give him the slip.
So annoying! She’d come here tonight looking to blow off some steam, and now she’d have to leave, unsatisfied. This wasn’t worth the fifty bucks.
She looked over her shoulder and found John getting up off his stool, his gaze on her. Great, now she had to dodge a cranky rando. She turned around and entered the dance floor. She bumped into someone and muttered an apology.
Now, to find something or someone suitable to duck behind. She feinted left, then right, and then caught sight of a massively large figure standing in the corner. He was cloaked in shadows, leaning against the wall, holding a beer by the neck. Her skin tingled. Had he noticed her, too?
Perfect. She made a beeline for him. He would do as well as any big piece of furniture.
The man straightened as she walked closer, growing even taller. He was dressed casually, in dark jeans and a bomber jacket.
She placed her most charming, beseeching smile on her face and looked up at him. He tilted his head back, and she nearly strangled on her own tongue as the shifting lights above them danced over his face.
Handsome. But, like, rough handsome, boxer handsome, lumberjack handsome. He was South Asian, like her, and made up of all sharp angles, from his wide forehead to his blade-likenose. A pale scar slashed across one cheek, starting right under his eye and disappearing at the edge of the well-groomed beard that covered his chin and jaw. His black hair was cut short, but not short enough to eliminate its rebellious curl. He had massive arms and a large chest, with shoulders wide enough to blot out the moon. She was strong, but he was stronger. She was tall, but he was taller.
Uh, focus.“There you are,” she breathed, and grasped his arms.
He looked down at her hands on him, then came back to her face. “Here I am,” he said, in a deep, dark voice.
His skin was hot. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear. “There’s a creepy guy bugging me. I’m trying to shake him. Would you mind if I used you as my pretend boyfriend slash human shield for a second?”
He took a beat to reply, and she almost stepped away. Then an arm slid around her waist and pulled her up tight against what felt like an actual living mountain. “I was looking all over for you,” he said loudly. He pulled her even tighter against him and lowered his head, pressing his cheek to hers. His breath tickled her ear, sending a tingle of electricity down her spine. “The guy in the blue shirt?”
She nodded, then yelped when the man used his grip on her to pick her up—like off the floor!—and turn around so she was between him and the wall. Oh.Oh.
No one had picked her up in a very long time.
Reflexively, she wound her arms around his neck. He set her down gently, but she didn’t remove her arms.
The lights in this bar were low and tinged with red, selling upscale seduction, and they slid over his brown skin like tinted silk. The only thing soft on him was his surprisingly full-lippedmouth. Unable to stop herself, she touched the hair curling at the nape of his neck. Scratch that, his hair was also soft.
He turned his head slightly, leaning into her touch. His eyes weren’t brown, as she’d first assumed. They were a startling light brownish-green.
Watch out for those light-eyed Desi men. The world’s been telling them they’re beautiful from the second they opened their eyes.
She no longer put stock in anything her aunt had preached at her, but she’d understood what Rhea was saying when she’d gifted her this nugget of wisdom. Eurocentric features equaled privilege in their society, and too much of that was a heady drug when it came to egos.
