The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,20
would painstakingly introduce her to, it felt good to have some kind of safety net, like the blankie she used to clutch as a kid for comfort.
“He’s incredibly hot.” Pia fanned her face. “Seriously, Sam, when I said you should have a no-strings-attached fling with a boy toy, you couldn’t have picked any better.”
Of course, that’s the moment her mom bustled out of the kitchen and spotted them.
“What is this boy toy fling business? Who’s having a fling?” Kushi stared at Samira and wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me you’re not going to cause a scandal at your homecoming supper.”
Pia sniggered while Samira put on her best demure voice. “No scandal, Mom. Need some help in the kitchen?”
Kushi nodded and beckoned them, a cloud of besan flour puffing the air as she waved her hands around. “If you girls could take the snacks around, that would be most helpful. Then I can put the sweets on the long table near the veranda, and everyone can help themselves.”
“Sounds like a plan, Auntie,” Pia said, before leaning over to Samira and whispering, “Don’t think your interrogation is over yet, young lady.”
Samira rolled her eyes. “You’re younger than me, and this is so over.”
“Pity you didn’t come into work today. I had an appointment with Rory this afternoon.”
Samira’s heart leaped even as she mentally chastised herself to know better. “So?”
“So . . . when you saw him yesterday, did he mention anything about you two hooking up again? Did you discuss it? Are you going to—”
“Girls, hurry please, our guests are hungry.”
Samira had never been so happy to obey a summons from her mother, and she headed for the kitchen, after poking out her tongue at Pia, who did the same in return.
Only two years separated them in age, but they’d been like this since they were kids, closer than sisters. She didn’t know what she would’ve done without Pia’s support when her marriage to Avi imploded. She’d been a mess, and her cousin had got her through the worst of it with copious chick flicks, double chocolate fudge brownies, and margaritas. She may feign indignation at Pia’s teasing, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt if her mom tried to fob off some wealthy Indian snob onto her later, Pia would be there for her.
The moment she stepped into the kitchen, Samira’s stomach rumbled as the fragrant aromas of mustard oil and onions tickled her nostrils.
“That smells so good, Auntie.” Pia snaffled a pakora off the nearest platter, earning a slapped wrist from Kushi for her trouble.
“You two eat later, guests first,” Kushi said, pointing toward the backyard.
Pia winked, stuffed the fried onion snack into her mouth, and plucked another to hand to Samira, who quickly ate it.
“Naughty girls,” Kushi said, her voice thick with emotion as she pinched both their cheeks. “It’s good to see you two together again.”
Samira could only muster a mumbled, “Yeah,” as unexpected emotion clogged her throat. Pia picked up a huge platter of pakoras and headed for the door, but not before Samira glimpsed the sheen of tears.
As if sensing a blubber-fest in the making, Kushi shooed them away. “Go. Mingle. Feed the crowd.”
As Samira picked up a large dish piled high with vada, Kushi touched her arm. “Betee, there’s someone I’d like you to meet later—”
“This platter is heavy, Mom. Got to dash.” But she’d barely made it out of the kitchen when the dork in the tux appeared in the doorway like some misplaced wedding guest who hadn’t got the memo about the smart casual dress code.
“Ah, Manish, how fortuitous. I was just about to tell my Samira about you.” Kushi beamed as Samira resisted the urge to bury her face in the vada.
She’d been through this rigmarole before. The less-than-subtle introductions where the guy had been clued in by his parents, the feigning of surprise, the awkwardness of making small talk with a guy she had no interest in, the sleaze of a guy who thought she’d be an easy target, because why else would a woman need a setup?
Fifteen years ago, she’d been young and naive and eager to please her mom, so she’d allowed herself to get swept along with the unrealistic romance facilitated by Kushi and Avi’s parents. Her dad hadn’t approved, but he’d seen how much it meant to Kushi to see her happily married, so he’d backed down, leaving her mom to propel her headfirst into a relationship she’d neither wanted nor been ready for.
Back then