The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(16)

“I saw him at a sports bar on the weekend,” Bushra said, smoothing down her green and orange salwar suit. “I was in the neighborhood with the son of a friend and we thought we’d drop in on Zara.”

“You made a match already?” Mehar gasped.

“He wasn’t Zara’s type.” Bushra sighed. “No man is her type. I don’t think we’ll ever find her a match.”

No surprise there. Zara had, after all, shot him with her paintball gun only shortly after they’d met. Still, he found it hard to believe that someone as vibrant and spirited as her was single. He filed that information away for later consideration.

Small and neat, and dressed in a yellow sari edged in silver ribbon, Lakshmi studied him intently. “There’s a darkness around him.”

“Don’t mind her.” Mehar patted his arm. “She’s the family astrologer. She sees things. Very useful when we’re trying to make a match. Not so useful if you’re trying to decide what to eat for Sunday dinner.”

“I told you not to get the fish at the market,” Lakshmi muttered. “That bout of food poisoning was totally avoidable.”

“You told me to be wary of fins,” Mehar snapped. “I thought you meant people from Finland.”

“If you’ll excuse me . . .” Jay edged away as they continued to bicker.

“Jungle cats can see through the dark,” Lakshmi called out to him. “Don’t forget.”

After making a quick escape, he joined Tarun, Maria, and Rishi at the bar. He ordered a scotch and soda to settle his nerves and shared the details of his close encounter with the aunties.

“I’m not going to miss those days.” Tarun clinked glasses with Jay and Rishi. “I’m done being hunted as prey.”

“Have you forgotten that Zara introduced us?” Maria gave him a nudge. “She’s like a junior auntie-in-training. If not for her, you’d still be hiding behind potted plants.”

Tarun’s whole body stiffened. “It was just one time and I’d dropped something under the leaves.”

Jay searched the crowd, only half listening as they told the story about how Zara had brought them together. She had to be here. He’d felt a ripple of excitement run through the crowd, a current of energy heading his way.

“Sorry. Oof. Was that your toe?” Zara’s voice carried from the doorway, sending an unexpected thrill of anticipation shooting through Jay’s veins. She didn’t travel a straight path, but was constantly in motion, hugging one person, kissing the next, spinning around to greet some tall blond dude as she swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Vibrant. Alive. In a way he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever.

As if sensing his presence, she looked up and caught his gaze just as the crowd parted. Her eyes moved slowly down his body, taking in his blue shirt, striped tie, and dark wool suit. It was just enough time for his brain to register her electric blue choli, cut to reveal her toned midriff and the gentle dip of her waist. Her matching skirt, embroidered with gold and pink designs, skimmed elegant shoes bright with gold sparkles, the same color as the glitter in her hair.

He didn’t know whether to smile or scowl. But before he could do either, she gave a disinterested shrug and turned away.

Jay gaped, shocked to the bone. He’d never been given the cold shoulder by a woman before. He was a good-looking man, charming when he put in the effort, fit, and successful. For a moment he wished he’d worn something bold enough to hold Zara’s attention—a patterned tie, a pinstriped shirt, maybe even a sweater vest. He had to give himself a mental kick when he realized he was still trying to find her in the crowd.



* * *



? ? ?

For the next half hour, Jay drank at the bar with Tarun’s groomsmen and counted down the minutes until the dancing started so he could quietly slip away. Despite his attempts to put Zara out of his mind, he was hyperaware of her buzzing happily around the bar everywhere except near him.

He was brooding over the insult when Tarun introduced him to Salena Patel, a distant relation who had arranged all the flowers for the sangeet.

Jay didn’t know anything about flowers. He and his mother had never had a garden. They’d lived in apartments in the most affordable areas of the city until he’d made enough money to buy her a house. His receptionist, Jessica, ordered flowers for his dates when special occasions arose, and his mother preferred practical gifts for special days.

“They’re lovely,” he offered.

“I did the flowers for Nasir and Priya, and I’m doing the flowers for the weddings of Layla and Sam and Daisy and Liam.”

Jay didn’t know any of the people she’d mentioned, although her expectant look suggested he should. Now that he’d exhausted his range of flower compliments, it was a struggle to know what to say. “Beautiful.”

“Do you know who is beautiful?” She moved in closer. “My niece. She’s a smart girl. Good salary. She has lots of energy. Not like those girls who just sit around all day staring at their phones. Very sociable. And a good heart.”

“I’m not looking to get married right now.” He shifted his weight, mentally calculating the distance from the bar to the door. If he had a clear path, he could get away in less than ten seconds.

Her forehead creased in a frown. “You have a girlfriend? Fiancée?”