“Riya Didi? I thought I heard the bike.”
Riya stood and flashed a rare smile as Hetal ran toward her. “Hey, how’s it going?” Riya opened her arms and wrapped them around his sister in a huge bear hug.
His sister adored Riya, and with good reason. After the fire, she’d done almost as much babysitting as he had when his mom worked. Hetal had actually learned how to make dhal from Riya. Irritation warred with warm, fuzzy feelings as he watched his sister with Riya. Riya loved Hetal as much as he did.
His sister squeezed Riya back. “Okay, I guess.”
“Ready for that big o-chem exam tomorrow?”
Riya knew about the exam?
Hetal shrugged. “We’ll see.”
Dhillon spoke up. “Surprised to see you here.”
“Are you, though?” She spared him a glance. He ate it up.
“I’m going for a run.” Get her out of his system.
“I’ll still be here when you get back,” she spit out at him, the familiar throaty rasp of her voice tinged with anger.
Dhillon didn’t move.Shewas pissed athim? His agitation returned with a vengeance.
Hetal looked from Riya to Dhillon and back to Riya. “Okay...well, I have an exam to study for...so I’ll catch you later.” She backed away from them as if the tension in the air was a physical thing. “See you, Riya Didi.”
Riya broke her stare, turning to smile and nod at Hetal. “Good luck. You’ll be fine.”
Hetal moved toward the house, and Riya held Dhillon in place once again with her glare. As soon as the door shut behind Hetal, Riya uncrossed her arms and leaned toward him.
“When did you become such a caveman?” she hissed quietly. Cleary, she did not want to be overheard.
Caveman? What the—
“You had no business coming down to the station and chewing me out in front of my coworkers!” she whisper-shouted. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be the rookie? Not to mention a woman? And then some guy comes around and implies that I may have made my career decision based on some traumatic event? You undermined me in my first week on the job! What the hell is your problem? Why do you even care what I do for a living?”
Was she serious? He might be stern at times, but he wasn’t a monster. But when he thought about it, he felt a pang of regret. Okay, reaming her out in front of the department had not been the best way to handle the situation. It was too late to change that, so he addressed her other accusation. “Why wouldn’t I care? You’re—” he lowered his voice “—running into fires. It’s dangerous. I can’t imagine why you would want to do such a thing.”
“You don’t have to imagine it.” She stepped closer, and he took in her hair, matted to her forehead. She had changed into civilian clothes, with just a hint of her usual floral scent. “You can’t just come down and yell at me. I’m fighting for respect, and you just put doubt in their heads,” she continued in a stage whisper as she backed up, her breath coming heavy. She turned to go into her parents’ house. “Thanks, Dhillon,” she snapped, before slamming the door.
Dhillon stared at the door. No one infuriated him like Riya Desai.
She was going to be the death of him.
And he was completely in love with her.
four
RIYA
Riya watched from her parents’ window as Dhillon left for his run, his form perfect. Long legs, even stride; he was broad and muscular, yet he ran with power and grace he didn’t seem to be aware of.
The aroma of mustard seeds mixed with curry leaves and asafetida sizzling in hot oil drew her attention to the kitchen, where her mother was starting dinner. The spicy aroma and the sound of the seeds popping instantly took her back to her childhood. When she still had Samir. When her mother still knew she existed.
She shouldn’t be watching Dhillon anyway. He was the single most infuriating person on the planet. She’d had a thing for him when they were teenagers, but that was a long time ago. She had tried to pursue him, but he had changed after the fire. Every time she thought she had successfully moved on from him, he inserted himself back into her thoughts. And right now, he was all she could think about.
She walked toward the kitchen, closing her eyes as she passed the garlanded picture of her brother hanging on the wall, opening them when she knew she’d passed it. “Hi, Mom.” As long as Riya could remember, her mother kept her long hair in a braid straight down her back and wore a cotton salwar kameez when she cooked. The outfit brought back as many happy cooking memories as the food itself.
Her mother startled, her hand at her chest. “Array, Riya!” She turned. “Why are you sneaking up on people?”
