Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(33)

She swore she felt Prem’s fingertips graze the base of her back as they cut across the yard in two separate directions. But then again, it could’ve been the early June heat playing tricks on her.

Either way, she had to be on her toes for the next couple hours. If she was going to spend it in Prem’s company, she couldn’t let her guard down. He was the type of man who pushed until he got what he wanted, and there was no way she would ever roll over for a partner, especially someone like Prem Verma.





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Indians Abroad News Dear Readers, If you are arranging with the matches for the first time, encourage them not to eat. Food is often a distractor and an opportunity for one candidate to judge the other. A classic cup of chai is always preferred.

Mrs. W. S. Gupta Columnist Avon, NJ





Chapter Ten

Prem




It took less time than Prem figured it would for Kareena to surprise him again. Fifteen minutes, in fact. The car ride from her house to Punjabi Express was filled with the same easy conversation he’d discovered with her when they met the bar. Their sentences connected one after the other as if they were not only on the same page, but in the same paragraph, creating the same story together. “I’m starving,” she said as they entered the small strip mall restaurant. Prem hummed in agreement. He pressed his fingertips at the base of her spine, and even though she stiffened under his touch, she didn’t pull away.

“Should we order first?” Kareena paused in front of one of the empty booths. “Or should one of us sit to hold the table?”

“You sit,” he said. “I’ll get us something to drink to start off with. Mango lassi?”

She looked up at him, startled.

Yup, I remember.

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Sure, that would be great. I can pay for my own, though.”

“Rina, honey, sit down,” Prem said, and stifled a laugh at her mutinous expression. He crossed the restaurant but paused before reaching the counter so he could turn back and watch Kareena slide into the booth. She immediately began scrolling on her phone. Who was she talking to? Was she still hell-bent on finding another guy to hang out with for the rest of the weekend?

“Excuse me?” the uncle behind the counter said. “What is it you want, sir?”

“Uh, two mango lassis, please. To start.”

The man rang him up and slid the cups and straws across the table.

Kareena was still scrolling on her phone when he returned with their drinks.

“Can you please refrain from having conversations with other men while we’re together?” Prem said. The idea of her talking with someone else still rubbed him the wrong way, especially when it was obvious that she had options while his only choice was her.

Kareena rolled her eyes, even as she put her phone down, and shoved a straw into the opening at the top of her cup. “I’m checking my work email.”

“On the weekend?”

“You’re working, too, aren’t you?” she said, pointing to the phone he’d placed at his elbow. “You’re on call. I’m just answering client emails.”

“Touché, Rina. Touché.”

“It’s Kareena, and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I prefer Rina.”

Kareena’s expression grew pensive as she drank. “Do your parents get it? What you’re trying to accomplish?” she asked.

Prem snorted before he could stop himself. “Not at all. They want me to become like my perfect cousin, a surgeon who is happily engaged and planning a big-ass wedding. They think I’m pissing away my education.”

Kareena nodded. “My father says he’s happy I found my calling and my passion, but I know he’s irritated I took a pay cut. He recently threw it in my face that I would’ve been able to afford the house on my own if I had stayed at a top law firm.”

“I don’t see you thriving in a place like that.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t. I didn’t. I worked at a big firm until I made the switch, and I’ve never been happier with my decision. But I can’t really blame our parents for feeling the way they do. Their roots were torn clear out of the soil in India, and they had to work hard to plant them again in the U.S. Then, to ensure that the whole family tree remained stable, they tried to usher us into stable jobs.”

Prem leaned in across the table until they were inches apart. “Their purpose doesn’t excuse their actions, Rina.”

“No, but it helps shape my actions,” she replied.

Before Prem could say anything else, a plate of pani puri artfully arranged on a tray floated past their table. The snack food was one of his favorites. The fried shells were crispy and the shape of an oversized golf ball. He loved cracking a hole into the shell, then stuffing it with seasoned potatoes, chickpeas, diced red onions, chutney, and spicy water.

“Oh my god,” Kareena said, her voice as reverent as he felt.

Prem was already salivating. “Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing.”

The server gave the pani puri to a couple across the room, and Prem watched as they each picked up a shell, cracked it with a quick firm tap of the thumb, added the fillings, and immediately popped it in their mouths.