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

“Why not just put them all on one team and we can be on the other?” Jay suggested. “They’re just going to slow us down in those clothes.” He gave a disdainful sniff when a woman in a barely-there green dress tiptoed across the field, struggling to keep her heels from sinking into the grass. A season pass holder, he visited the park at least twice a month with his business partner, Elias, and had little time for people who didn’t take the game seriously.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” Tarun said. “We’d destroy the other team in five minutes.”

Jay suspected that first-time paintballer Tarun would have little part in crushing their opponents, but it was Tarun’s day so he just nodded in agreement.

“I know that look,” Tarun said with a grin. “Just for that I’m putting Avi and Rishi on my team. You can have a few extra newbs to even things out.”

“Tell them not to get in my way. I’m here to win.” Jay patted his holster. This season, he’d splurged for the Planet Eclipse CS2 Pro paintball marker, a Ninja compressed-air tank, a Spire III hopper, and a strapless harness pod pack. His mask had a reflecting DYEtanium lens that shielded him from UV rays and completely hid his face. He preferred anonymity on the field. Better the other team didn’t know who hit them.

“I’m here to make sure Maria has a good time,” Tarun said. “Go easy on her if you see her in the field. She’s here for the game, not your Mission: Impossible level of intensity. If you had a girl of your own you’d understand.”

“Not interested in getting tied down right now.” Jay tightened his harness. “Work takes up all my time, and then you, Rishi, and Avi all decided to get married this summer. You couldn’t have given a dude a break? Maybe spaced things out?”

“It should have been four weddings,” Tarun teased. “We always did things together.”

“Are you kidding?” Jay had always put work over relationships, and his eight years of service in the air force had been the perfect excuse to avoid getting involved. When he’d transitioned to civilian life and opened his security company with Elias, he’d put his drive and focus into making J-Tech Security a success. Achievement was his top priority. Everything else was a distraction.

Tarun grabbed a rental helmet. “Your perspective changes when you meet the one.”

Jay’s mother had thought she’d met her “one” at the age of sixteen and look how that had turned out. His dad—an exchange student—had returned to England a few months after Jay was born, and his mom’s strict Indian parents had disowned her, leaving her penniless and alone with a newborn baby. If he did marry—which was doubtful given the all-consuming nature of his work—it would be after he had taken his company to the top. His future wife—classy, sophisticated, and elegant—would be a reflection of that success.

A shout echoed across the field. Moments later, a woman in a ridiculous froth of pink ruffles came racing toward them, long tanned legs moving so fast her sneakers barely touched the ground. “I’m heeeeere!”

Jay grabbed Tarun and yanked him out of the way. Without even an acknowledgment of the near miss, she barreled past them and into the weapons shed, pulling up inches short of hitting Pete in a full-on body slam.

“That’s my cousin Zara Patel,” Tarun said, following his gaze. “She introduced me to Maria. Life is never dull when she’s around.”

“Indeed.” With her dark hair in a messy tangle down her back, breasts straining against the tight bodice of her stained dress, Tarun’s cousin was everything Jay avoided in a woman—loud, unruly, wild, and totally out of control.

He helped Tarun choose his gear and suit up for the game. They had just pulled on their helmets when the bachelorette party walked past them on their way to the field. Jay sucked in a sharp breath when he saw Zara’s weapon.

“Did Pete seriously give your cousin his Tiberius Arms T9.1 Elite?” With a weapon as close to an actual rifle as a paintball gun could get, even an unskilled player could be a formidable opponent. “He wouldn’t even let me handle it.”

“I’m the groom and he wouldn’t let me handle it, either,” Tarun grumbled.

Zara pointed her gun at the nearest hay bale and pulled the trigger, missing her target by a good two feet.

“What a waste of a good weapon,” Jay muttered under his breath. “Please tell me she’s on your team.”

“Sorry, dude.” Tarun clapped his hand on Jay’s shoulder. “She’s all yours.”





? 2 ?



“I’ve got the feel of it now. I’m ready to kick some blue team ass.” Zara jogged back to her team, joining Parvati and a handful of women wearing various shades of bridesmaid pastel. The remaining members of her red team—all wearing army fatigues, their faces hidden in protective helmets—were practicing on the other side of the range.

“I had a good look at the dudes before they put on their face shields,” Parvati said. “Three of them have beards. Two are under five feet eight. One has long hair. That leaves four maybes and six solid contenders, one of whom has been keeping to the shadows under the tree.” She raised her hand. “I call the hipster with the hair.”

“I thought Stacy didn’t want us trolling for hookups.”