Dating Dr. Dil (If Shakespeare was an Auntie #1)(70)

“Hello?” Dadi called out. “Is anyone out there?”

Neither of them answered. They stayed completely still, trying to control their breathing. Damn it, why were they breathing so loud?

A few seconds later, Kareena heard her grandmother grumble something. Then the screen door closed and the deck light flickered off.

“Hang on to your glasses, Rina, honey,” Prem whispered, then bent down, and lifted her off her feet, tossing her clear over his shoulder. She bit back her yelp and hung on to his shirt as she flopped like a fish against his back. He stayed in dark shadows along the fence until he reached the street in front of the house. Then, putting her down on her feet, he linked his fingers with hers and tugged her to the end of the block where his car was parked.

She should just go back home, back to her room, and get in her bed where she’d planned on spending the rest of her sleepless night dreaming about fictitious men.

But Prem was here, and he was real.

And that scared her the most.

She climbed into his passenger seat and waited for him to start the car.

“I’m taking you to my place,” he said.

“Okay.”





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Indians Abroad News Dear Readers, If your matches are eager to leave any sort of social gathering that you’ve designed for them without food and dressed as if they are in a hurry, then please note that they might be engaging in coitus. It’s important to encourage marriage right away.

Mrs. W. S. Gupta Columnist Avon, NJ





Chapter Twenty-Two

Prem




Prem hadn’t thought too far past the kidnapping. He wanted to see her, wanted to make his intentions clear, but then they’d kissed outside her shed, and he lost his ever-loving mind. He needed more time with her. He needed her in his car, in his bed, in his life.

They sat in silence for most of the drive, the awkwardness almost suffocating as they cruised down the Turnpike.

What were they supposed to talk about that wouldn’t start an argument?

Kareena seemed to be content with leaning back against the passenger seat, the window open to let the summer night air in. Her fingers cut through the wind as she made waves all the way down the turnpike.

Ten minutes from his apartment, her phone went off. She checked the name on the screen and let out a miserable groan. “I have to take this,” she said. “It’s Sonali Aunty.”

“Sure.”

She answered then closed her eyes and rested her head against the palm of her hand. “Hi, Sonali Aunty.”

Prem couldn’t hear what the woman was saying on the other end of the call, but he heard Kareena’s sighs loud and clear.

“Aunty, he was so rude. He told me that I needed to lower my standards. That I was the type of woman who looked like I’d always have to work because a man wouldn’t want me enough to support me. I know! I’m so stupid for getting mad about that, because I always plan on working. But it’s still insulting.”

Prem’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. What the hell? She’d been on a date today? Had she had any good ones since they’d last been together? Had anyone kissed her, held her like he had? No, he had no right to ask those questions, even though jealousy was like a sore. At least the last guy she’d been with sounded like a complete douche.

“No, it’s fine,” Kareena said. “But if you could avoid telling Dadi and the Aunty WhatsApp chat until tomorrow, I’d appreciate it. I escaped to, uh, Bobbi’s house, and Dadi doesn’t know I left. No, Aunty, I am not reading the W. S. Gupta advice column. I don’t think it applies to me. Okay, thanks, Aunty. Love you, too. Bye.”

The sound of that word, love, coming from her mouth grated against his skin, but he ignored it and put it aside. When she hung up, he said, “Fuck the douchebag who said those things to you. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Kareena rubbed her fingertips against her temples. “Yeah, but I’m hoping that someone does.”

“Doubtful,” Prem replied.

“Seriously?”

Prem shrugged. “It’s true. It’s doubtful anyone deserves you. But you’ll inspire someone to be the best person they can for you. I know you inspire me.”

“Prem,” she said with a shaky breath.

They descended into silence again as he maneuvered his car toward his building. The ride was short, and a few minutes later, he was parking in his underground garage.

“What are your plans for when we reach your place?” Kareena asked, breaking the peace between them.

“Are you hungry? I can order some food.”

“Not really,” she said.

“Okay, then we’ll shower first. And then decide what to do.”

“Shower?” Kareen asked.

Prem turned into the underground parking garage entrance and slowed as he descended to his level before parking the car. When he turned off the vehicle, he finally looked at her. “I have to take a shower,” he said. “Because I have war paint on, and I would like for you to join me.”

He could see the interest in her eyes, but all she did was pull the door handle and step out of the car. They walked side by side, less than a foot between them, to the elevator and stepped into the small box. Prem could practically feel the tension crackling like a live current between them as they took the elevator to his floor.