The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,33
you’re lucky.”
She cringed at her flippant response. She’d rung him because she already missed him, and now she sounded like she didn’t give a crap.
“You know where to find me,” he said, amusement lacing his words like he could see right through her gaucheness. “And now I have your number, so I don’t have to pine away if you don’t contact me again; I can call you.”
“Promises, promises.”
She tried to sound seductive. It came out lame, and she resisted the urge to hit her forehead against the steering wheel. “I really did have a good time last night and this morning, and I just wanted you to know that.”
“Then we definitely need to do it again soon.”
The train must’ve passed through a tunnel, as reception dropped out for a moment, long enough for Samira to know she had to end this call now, before she did something silly like invite him back to her place again tonight.
“Thanks again, Rory.”
“No worries. See you soon.”
She hit the “end call” button and slumped back against her seat. Maybe she should’ve stuck to texting after all, because in trying to say how much she’d enjoyed hanging out with him, she’d ended up sounding like a schoolgirl with a major crush. Not that far from the truth, and she pondered anew how her mature, independent self had reverted to about sixteen on that call just now.
Cringing, she got out of the car and walked up the cracked concrete driveway. As she neared the house, she heard voices from the backyard. Oh no. Her mom wouldn’t have . . . would she? Trepidation made her shoulders tense as she rounded the back corner of the house, hoping Kushi hadn’t taken matters into her own hands and invited Manish over.
However, when she lifted the latch of the door hanging on loose hinges and pushed it open, she breathed a sigh of relief. Kushi had just poured chai for Pia and her mother, Sindhu, and three sets of eyes swung her way.
“Samira, my girl, come and have some tea.” Kushi beamed, and Samira’s guilt increased tenfold. She really needed to make more time for her mom. They’d made a start on mending their relationship the first night she’d arrived back, and she needed to build on that.
“Hey, Mom.” Samira strode across the garden and hugged Kushi, who clung to her a moment longer than expected. Yeah, she definitely had to make more of an effort.
“Auntie, so good to see you.” She bent down to hug Sindhu, who patted her cheek.
“You naughty girl, you haven’t come to see me since you’ve been back.” Sindhu waggled a finger in her face. “Do not turn out like this daughter of mine, all work and no play.”
“Wow, thanks for the support, Mom.” Pia rolled her eyes, perfectly rimmed with kohl in a way Samira had tried to emulate many times and failed.
“Pia’s doing amazing things at the health center,” Samira said, squeezing her cousin’s shoulder as she slid into the seat next to her.
“Yes, yes, I know,” Sindhu said, her praise begrudging while she glanced at her daughter with obvious pride. “She’s a good girl.”
“And don’t you forget it, Mom.” Pia tugged on the end of Sindhu’s sari, creating a gap between the silk and the choli, revealing a few rolls that indicated her cuddly aunt still favored highly sugared Indian sweets. “Samira’s just as busy as me, so leave her alone.”
“These hardworking girls . . .” Kushi tut-tutted as she poured Samira a cup of chai. “At least your Pia is married. My Samira needs a good man in her life.”
“Mom, I’m right here.” Samira waved her hand in front of Kushi’s face. She swatted it away.
“Tell her, Sindhu.” Kushi poked her sister in the ribs. “She won’t listen to me.”
Her aunt shot her a fond look. “I’m not interfering. My matchmaking days are over.”
“Thanks, Auntie.” Samira blew her a kiss, knowing her mom wouldn’t be deterred.
“That Manish is such a nice boy—”
“I’m starving, Mom. Got any snacks?” From years of experience, Samira knew the only way to distract her mother was to mention food, and it worked like a charm when Kushi stood.
“I’ve got leftovers in the fridge,” Kushi said.
“I’ll help.” Sindhu stood, and the two of them walked toward the kitchen, their heads bent close and muttering something Samira assumed had to do with her lack of a man.
“When are you going to tell them about your boy toy?”
“Stop calling him that.”
Pia’s eyebrow rose at her snark. “It’s a