Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors (The Rajes #1)(72)

On the upside, there was something comforting about knowing that he hadn’t been wrong about her after that disastrous first meeting in the Raje kitchen. No wonder all those times when she’d been endearing had felt like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

Her fingers rested on her temples and for a moment he wondered what was bothering her in her perfect life.

The car purred under his foot as he circled the sweeping driveway. “Nisha well?” He tried not to think about how sad she had looked when he had run into her. Before she had shoved him away as though he were disease ridden and then proceeded to threaten him again.

“She’s fine. Why would you think she’s not?” she said shortly and he kicked himself for not leaving her be.

“Well, she was sick the last time I saw her, and apparently something is wrong enough that you’re going through all this trouble to keep anyone from finding out what it is. So excuse me for checking to make sure she’s fine.”

Her hand pressed into her belly, a gesture she seemed to reach for every time something overwhelmed her or made her uncomfortable. As he evidently did every time he was near her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Was he hearing things? Had she just apologized? The woman was giving him whiplash and it was irritating the hell out of him. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until the leather practically squeaked beneath his fingers.

She wasn’t done. “I’m also sorry that I was late and that you had to drive to Woodside to get me.”

Two whole apologies? Had Christmas come early?

But of course it hadn’t because when he didn’t respond immediately, she went right back to her most sunny demeanor. “The least you can do is acknowledge my apology!” she snapped, and it set the world straight again.

They passed under the arch that spelled out the words The Anchorage. What kind of people lived in a house with a name, with sliding gates? The indignant frown on her face made him imagine her as a little girl, driving down the thickly wooded street, knowing nothing of the world outside it where there was no anchorage for those cast out in storms, no easy acknowledgment of meaningless apologies.

“What good will my acknowledging your apology do?” he said, despite every instinct telling him to shut up.

“It will make me feel better, for one.”

“Ah, that most pressing reason.” He pulled out of the private street and just like that they were in city traffic.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Apparently she wasn’t in the mood to let things go either.

“It means I accept. There, you should feel all better now.”

“Thanks, but I think you have to actually mean it for me to feel better.”

He had to laugh at that. “Well, maybe if you’d meant the apology, you wouldn’t need my acknowledgment for it to matter.”

Her brows drew together, the flame-colored flecks in her eyes sparking with indignation. “It’s not like I meant to be late.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

For a few minutes she didn’t say more. But she glanced at him several times before saying, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re thinking it, you might as well say it. It’s too long a drive for awkward silences.”

He very much doubted any drive with her would be too short for awkward silences. “Fine. Being late is a form of selfishness. It shows that you value your own time above others’.”

She made an appalled sound. “That’s the most ridiculous accusation I’ve ever heard. I’m a neurosurgeon, my life literally revolves around being selfless.”

How could he not laugh at that? Had no one ever bothered to tell her that being a neurosurgeon did not absolve her of practicing common decency? Her entire family was incredibly gracious and kind. For all their poshness, Mrs. Raje, Nisha, and Ashna had always treated him with consideration and respect. Not one of them had ever said a single obnoxious thing around him. And this one had rarely said anything that wasn’t obnoxious.

Naturally, she didn’t like that he laughed. “I’ll have you know that I’ve never been late to a single surgery or consult ever.” She scowled, but in her eyes was genuine hurt.

“So someone has to be dying for you to value their time? Normal old healthy blokes don’t deserve your consideration?”

“I was all of fifteen minutes late. I can’t believe that you don’t have the grace to pretend to be okay with that. How much consideration are you showing me?”

“I was trying to do just that. You’re the one who insisted on having me share what I was thinking.”

She emitted a grunting sound. Good. There was no reason why he should be the only one exasperated. For a while neither one of them spoke. And yes, the silence was awkward as hell.

Until her stomach let out a long low growl and she sat up, cheeks flushed. With a sheepish smile that transformed her into someone else entirely, she looked at the plastic box on her lap. “I might be a little hungry. Do you mind if I eat in the car?”

“By all means.” God, if eating would improve her demeanor, he’d feed her himself.

The thought brought to mind the way she had eaten his food at the tasting, and he struggled to push the memory away.

Lifting a smooth round ladoo out of the box, she held it up. “It’s a ladoo. An Indian dessert.”