The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(17)

“No.”

She adjusted her glasses and stared him up and down. “Are you sick? Injured? Are you not earning? Why don’t you want to get married?”

He searched for something to say. “It’s not the right time.”

“Always the young people say it’s not the right time.” With a sigh, she shook her head. “Always they think they need to have the perfect job and the perfect house and the perfect car. But no. These things are easier to achieve when you have someone by your side. Someone to support and help you.” She turned and searched through the crowd. “Beta.” She waved her hand. “Come. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Jay cocked an eyebrow at Tarun in a silent plea for help, but his friend just laughed.

“I need to go and rehearse my dance for later tonight.” Tarun dropped his voice to a low murmur. “I’m sure you can hold your own against Salena Auntie. She’s half your size.”

“Get ready,” Salena said. “Here she comes.”



* * *



? ? ?

Oh God. Not Jay. Why wouldn’t the aunties leave her alone?

Zara forced a smile for the man she had been trying to ignore all evening—a virtual impossibility given that he dominated the bar with the force of his presence alone. Tall and brooding, with a strong, sexy jawline, and the barest hint of a five-o’clock shadow, he was too attractive, too confident, too intense, and from the smirk on his face, clearly too aware of his charms.

“This is my niece Zara.” Salena Auntie nudged her forward and launched into a quick summary of her attributes, which included being employed, helping the family, having good teeth, no mustache, and a very healthy appetite.

“This isn’t 4-H, Auntie-ji,” she murmured. “I’m not competing to win the blue ribbon for best in show.”

“And she’s funny, too,” Salena said with a light laugh. “Just now she made a joke that I’m talking about her like she’s a farm animal at the fair.”

“Very amusing.” Jay’s flat tone suggested it was anything but.

Zara closed her eyes and willed the ground to swallow her up. “Jay and I have met. He was at the bachelor-bachelorette party.”

“Even better.” Salena patted Zara’s hand. “Did you tell him your mother is a partner at a big-city law firm? And your dad . . .” She forced a wider smile. “Is an engineer.”

“Auntie-ji . . .” Zara shook her head in warning. Her aunties always left out the most important part—the part that scared potential suitors away. “He isn’t an engineer anymore. He’s an artist and a musician. He’ll be playing in the bhangra band tomorrow at the baraat.” The traditional Punjabi music was now a feature of many Indian weddings, particularly at the groom’s procession on the morning of the ceremony.

Salena clamped a hand around Jay’s wrist as if she were worried he’d run away now that Zara’s father’s shame had been made public. The arts were low down on the list of desirable desi professions. Her father’s career change was problematic for the aunties who were desperate to see her wed.

“Jay’s mother runs the daycare where Taara Auntie takes her boys,” Salena Auntie continued, seemingly unaware of the current of tension between them. “He was a captain in the air force, and now he is CEO of a security company. I didn’t have time to find out more about him, but I’m sure he can tell you anything you need to know.”

A wave of nausea crashed through Zara’s gut when she recalled their conversation in the bar. I’ll bet he’s one of those wannabe military types who spends his weekends playing paintball with his geek friends, pretending he’s the real deal. What had she been thinking? But that was the problem. She was always living in the moment, not thinking at all.

“Thank you for your service,” she mumbled, her cheeks burning. She could only hope he’d been as drunk as she’d been and didn’t remember the slight.

“Pleasure.” The deep rumble of his voice made her toes curl. “I’m the real deal after all.”

Oh God. She willed the floor to swallow her up. Where was a natural disaster when she needed one? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said at the bar. I didn’t know you were . . . you.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Salena Auntie clasped her hands together. “I have a good feeling about this. I think I’ll be adding another match to my summer scorecard. Mehar won’t know what hit her.”

An awkward silence followed. Desperate for a distraction, Zara stopped a passing waiter and took a glass of champagne from his tray.

“Drink?” She offered the glass to Jay.

He was enjoying her discomfort, she realized when he smirked. “I thought you preferred beer, or does it hamper your powers of observation?”

“Take the drink,” she snapped. “It might help.”

“With what, exactly?”

“With your tendency to grumpiness and reluctance to smile.” She knew she was being defensive but it was incredibly annoying to have her missteps called out, especially when being this close to him, breathing in his scent of pine and crisp ocean air, made her knees weak and her stomach twist in a knot.

“I smile,” he retorted, not smiling.