She hesitated. A car was enclosed, and she’d rather drive somewhere than be driven, but when she checked in with her gut, it was quiet. If anything, it was clamoring to wrap herself around him again.
Is that your gut or something farther down?They were tied together, her instincts and her lust nowadays. Sex with terrible people was something she’d left in her youth.
Wasn’t this why she’d come out? To find someone who would hopefully make her forget her solitary life for a night? It wasn’t an itch she scratched often, and she hadn’t come across such a promising itch-scratcher in a while.
“Or I can walk you to the train,” he added, when she stalled, and finally removed his hands from her and took a step back. She felt cold as soon as he did.
“No,” she said slowly, and shifted. The weight of her knife on her ankle reassured her that she could handle Krish if he became a problem. “I’d love a lift. Thank you.”
His body remained a great hiding spot. They made it out the front door without a John sighting. It was a blustery fall night, and she tilted her face up to the drizzling rain as they walked out of the bar. She took a deep breath, cleansing herself of the negativity that annoying dude had brought into her life.
“This way.” Krish placed one hand on her back, and she shivered at the light touch.
She followed him to the parking lot next door, her head on the swivel despite the relatively quiet street. They stopped next to a small hybrid sedan, and she slid into the passenger seat that he held open for her. “Where to?” he asked, once he was in the driver’s seat.
She gave him her address. He started the car and pulled out. She noticed her fingers were drumming against the armrest, and made a conscious effort to still the nervous gesture.
“You cold?”
Sejal stirred. “Huh?”
“You’re not wearing a coat. And you’re shivering.”
Oh. “I must have forgotten it back at the bar.” Another thing to be mad at John about! She liked that coat.
Krish kept one hand on the wheel and reached into the back seat of his car. He handed her a sweatshirt. It was soft and gray and smelled as delicious as him. She put it on and zipped it up. It dwarfed her, as he did.
He stopped at a red light and turned to look at her. “Are you from here?”
“New Jersey,” she lied. She wasn’t a local anywhere anymore, but she never told people where she really grew up. Las Vegas was too notorious. It inspired all sorts of additional questions. An Indian woman from New Jersey required no further follow-up.
He nodded and started driving again when the light turned green. “Still have family around?”
They were making small talk, normal things strangers said to each other, things she usually made up, so they were both surprised by the truth that fell from her lips. “My dad’s dead, mymom’s in jail, and my sister and I haven’t talked in years. So no, not really.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Wow,” he finally said.
She took a deep breath. John had clearly rattled her more than she’d thought. “Sorr—”
“My dad’s also dead. But my mom isn’t in prison, so you win.”
Her laugh was a surprise. “I do love winning.” She rested her hands in her lap. She wanted to reach over and stroke his beard again, but that would be wildly inappropriate.
“Can I ask what your mom’s in prison for?”
“Nothing that’s genetic,” Sejal said dryly. And nothing she could easily explain. Which was why she’d never bothered to get a therapist. Really, what part of her messed-up family would she even start with?
Hi, I’m the eldest daughter in an immigrant family, but instead of being pressured to do well in school, I was drafted into my conman father’s petty get-rich-quick schemes. My mom? She faked her own death when I was a kid so she could go be the leader of a crime syndicate in India called Cobra. I only knew she faked her own death because she resurrected herself two years ago to have her goons kidnap me because she thought I knew something about a diamond necklace that my dad stole from her. Don’t worry, though! I got away from her thanks to my little sister and my estranged aunt, who, fun fact, had also previously faked her own death. I haven’t seen any of them since then. Though I’m safe and mymom’sbehind bars, I can’t stop running.
Yup, she was a lost cause. In case anyone was wondering, being only one out of three for parental figures actually staying dead definitely played havoc on one’s sense of stability.
She changed the subject. “Sorry to hear that you’re also a member of the Dead Dads Club.” Her father, Vassar, had died in India a few years ago. Her aunt had called to tell her. She’d been tearful. Sejal had not.
“It’s not a great club to be in. I was young when mine passed. But I had my mom.”
“Was your mom a good parent?” Parental relationships were always fascinating to her.
He thought about that for a second. “An unconventional one. But she loves us, yes. Yours? Uh, prison aside.”
