She nibbled on her lip. “Damn. Okay, fine. I pay my debts. What do you want to ask me?”
Everything.
If he was an onion, she was the ocean, with greater depths than he’d accounted for.
Tell me about your childhood.
Why did your mom kidnap you?
Do you ever think you could get a normal job?
Why did you get me that salad while you went hungry?
Why do you taste so good?
Will your aunt be kind to you?
Will you understand when this is over, and I’ve used you, why I lied to you?
And why do I care so deeply now if you understand?
“Well?”
He forced a smile. He’d asked for this chance to grill her, but now that it was upon him, he didn’t really know what to ask. So instead, he gestured to the food. “Let’s eat first. I’ll collect later.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sejal was in way over her head, and she was woman enough to admit it.
She dunked her tea bag into her mug and stared out the big bay window in Mama and Papa Krish’s farmhouse kitchen. The sun was setting, casting pink and yellow fingers over the acres of land stretched in front of her. It was the kind of postcard perfect setting in which a cowboy might emerge over the horizon. Cowboy Krish. It fit.
She wondered if Krish had ridden horses growing up, or if he’d had any pets. She wished she’d won that last round of the game. She had a million questions for him.
You told him about the kidnapping? Fool.
Her only excuse was that all that talk about trauma and scars had really gotten to her. She imagined he wouldn’t have loved anything that smacked of pity, but hearing how his dad had passed had nearly had her crawling into his lap to comfort him. Especially coming on the heels of the loneliness that had been apparent when he talked about his life growing up in a small town.
No one would ever have called her a nurturing person, but that sense of feeling like an outsider, it resonated with her. Vegas may have had a bigger Desi population than his hometown, but the Chaudharys hadn’t really mingled well with them. Even if they had, Sejal wouldn’t have fit in. She’d been the odd man out with everyone as a kid, given what a mess her father had been.
She’d done her best to make sure Mira was more socialized. Sejal had carefully laid out her sister’s clothes in grade school. She’d ensured that Mira’s garments didn’t have holes or stains, though most of her own stuff had been hand-me-downs several times over. What little she knew about Mira now told her that her little sister wasn’t as isolated as Sejal was. At Mira’s wedding celebration, her sister had glowed, surrounded by her chosen family.
So maybe Sejal had done something right before she’d abandoned Mira.
At least Krish had had his mother’s money and influence to shield him. It was clear that at least some of the community here considered this family their own, and Krish’s parents didn’t even live in this home full-time.
No one considers you theirs.Except, perhaps, Kenneth. Sejal wished she could call him and nag him about his diet right now. She’d asked about a new phone at the general store when Krish had left her alone, but burner phones clearly weren’t as hot a commodity here as Henleys. Which Krish was wearing the fuck out of, by the way.
She shivered, despite the hot tea in her hand. He’d been about to kiss her in the bar, hadn’t he? His full, soft lips had been so close.You don’t want him to kiss you.
Ugh, even she knew that was a lie. Kissing him wasn’t smart, but she still wanted it. If she’d thought this attraction to Krishwas inconvenient the first night they met, that was nothing compared to how she felt now.
“That’s a lovely dress. You clean up quite well.”
Oh fuck.
She’d breathed a sigh of relief when Krish’s mother had been absent when they returned home. She felt the same pressure now that Krish did to ensure that Aarthi didn’t find out about her real identity.
Of course Aarthi would hate her for who her parents were, especially since Aarthi’s husband had been violently killed by criminals, her child in the car. Lady, please understand, I often hate me for who my parents are.
