The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(7)

The drive for success defined Jay’s life. He never lost sight of the ultimate objective. His experience growing up with a single mom had shaped how he approached any challenge. He crushed obstacles in his way. And yet for some unfathomable reason, he’d let Zara walk—no, run—all over him.

As he looked for Tarun, his gaze fell on a group of women at the bar shouting encouragement while the bartender poured beer down someone’s throat with a funnel.

Jay made a derisive sound. He prided himself on his self-control and that meant never getting drunk the way he had in the past. High school had been a difficult time. He’d been angry at his father for not being there, angry with a world that gave little support to hardworking single moms, and angry with his mother’s family for abandoning them. He’d gone through a rebellious stage, causing his mother endless heartache and worry. If not for a sympathetic school counselor who had suggested that he enlist to focus his anger on something that mattered, he would have destroyed his life.

One of the women shuffled to the side, slowly revealing the subject of everyone’s attention. He caught a glimpse of long, toned legs, pink Converse sneakers, a ruffled dress, and the barely concealed bosom of the woman who had thrown him off his game. Was Tarun aware that his fiancée had such questionable taste in friends? Maybe Jay should warn him before he said I do.

Pushing herself up on one elbow, Zara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and lifted her arms in victory. It was the paintball field all over again. No doubt within the hour someone would have to call a cab to take her home. There was nothing Jay liked less than a person who lacked discipline. He’d fired employees for overindulging at the office Christmas party and covering his desk with photocopies of someone’s ass.

So why was he still looking her way?

He searched the crowd for a distraction and spotted Avi at the far end of the bar. His closest friend of the group, Avi had been the first person to stand up for him when he’d been bullied at school. They shared a love of video games, fantasy football, and high-end sports cars.

“Congrats on the big win,” Jay said. Avi greeted him with a slap on the back. Shorter than the rest of their friend group and slightly built, he wore his dark curly hair extra thick for the illusion of height.

“I’m surprised you and Zara managed to get through the day without killing each other.” Avi grinned. “Tarun said he put you two together to see the sparks fly.”

“I’m glad to have amused him,” Jay said dryly. “I’ve never played with anyone so determined not to follow the rules.” He could still see Zara at the other end of the bar. She’d survived the beer funnel and was now giving high fives to her entourage. He’d caught only a few brief glimpses of her without the mask over the course of the day, but he could see her clearly now, an outrageously beautiful woman who vibrated with energy. With her dark hair now an unbound mass of curls falling softly around her shoulders, full mouth curved in a smile, dark eyes sparkling, she was the kind of woman who stirred a man’s blood. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“We could use another dancer for the groom squad dance at the sangeet,” Avi said, drawing Jay’s attention back to their conversation.

“I have two left feet and no sense of rhythm. I don’t think I’d be an asset to the group.” Jay’s mother loved Bollywood dancing. She’d taught him the basic steps when he was young, and they’d danced together at home, often collapsing in laughter when they tripped over each other’s feet. Those days had ended when he hit his teens and turned his focus to the man he wanted to become. Successful. Respected. A man who didn’t dance or subject himself to activities that would affect his carefully cultivated image.

“You might surprise yourself. Sometimes if you open yourself up to new experiences, you discover skills you never had.” Avi followed Jay’s gaze to the bar, where Zara’s friend was pulling her away from the bartender, who had procured an even longer funnel. “Are you planning to do a funnel? Please say yes.”

“Of course not.” Jay shook his head. “It’s a disaster waiting to happen. No one can metabolize a second pint of beer that quickly. Where’s Rishi? He’s Tarun’s best man. It’s his job to make sure no one winds up in the hospital tonight.”

“Zara can look after herself.” Avi chuckled. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go ask him to keep an eye on her. I think he’s playing beer pong, so no promises.”

After Avi left, Jay watched Zara get into position, laughing and chatting with everyone around her. She reminded him of his former copilot JD Hobbs. He’d been a full-throttle kind of guy, performing unimaginable feats of strength and endurance until he crashed spectacularly, putting himself and sometimes the entire squadron at risk. Jay had always had his back until the one time JD really needed him. Now JD was gone and a dozen good men with him. Someone had to look out for Zara. Since Rishi wasn’t around, he would have to step in.



* * *



? ? ?

Zara twisted her hand through Stacy’s hair, holding it back while the maid of honor threw up in the toilet.

“Beer funnels aren’t for everyone.” Zara rubbed Stacy’s back with her free hand. “You can’t expect to get it on your first go.”

“You made it look easy.” Stacy sobbed into the bowl.