First Comes Like (Modern Love #3) - Alisha Rai Page 0,74

to feign confusion, sadly. He thought about how much cash was left in his wallet. “You got me. I’d rather people not know I was here. You understand.” Especially that he’d spent the night in one suite with this particular woman.

Call him old-fashioned, but he knew how things worked. They could ride the line of titillation, but they couldn’t flat out metaphorically French kiss in front of cameras. Getting caught seemingly sleeping together was a step too far.

“I’d rather they did!” Jenny pointed at her wall. “If you could take a photo for our wall of celebrities, that would be fantastic. Is your friend famous, too? ’Cause I have space . . .”

Dev peered at the wall in the dusky light. Sure enough, there were more than a couple of celebrities up there, though the majority appeared to be artists. If he agreed, perhaps Jenny would be satisfied. “Very well. But no, she’s not.”

Jenny raised her hands. “Got it.”

And that was how Devanand Dixit, eldest grandson of Shweta and Vivek Dixit, left a Polaroid photo of his face on the wall of a tired hotel in the middle of the desert.

His life sure had gotten turned upside down since he’d met Jia.

Dev ventured out the front door of the inn, holding the paper cup of now lukewarm coffee. The sun kissed the horizon, sending fingers of light over the almost silent town. The temperature hadn’t quite warmed up yet for the day. He’d barely slept the night before and had almost fallen out of bed when Jia’s alarm had gone off for morning prayer, piercing through the thin walls of the suite.

The sleeplessness had come in handy in one respect. He’d come to a decision. He needed to tell Jia that he wanted to scrap this ridiculous arrangement of theirs. He didn’t want to be her pretend boyfriend. He wanted to be her real one. Possibly more. She made him happy and made him think, and each second he was in her company felt like a second too little.

You’re sounding like your scripts.

So what if he was acting out a serial? No, not a serial. A serial had foreboding moments and twists and turns. This felt more muted and warm, though it still retained an undercurrent of passion.

Dev leaned against the post at the front of the inn and thought about her possible reactions. She could say no, that despite their almost-kiss she wasn’t interested in him like that. Or she could jump in his arms and declare her affections as well. Or there were about ten other scenarios that could happen between those two extremes.

The sound of a car engine came from down the road and Dev straightened as his rental came into view, towed by a truck. The truck came to a stop in front of the inn, and a stoop-shouldered elderly man got out. “This your car?”

“It is, yes.”

The older man grunted, handed him a bill, and went around the truck to take the car down. A man of few words. That was fine.

Dev took out his wallet while the man unhooked his car. He really was running low on cash. He pulled out what was left and handed it to the man when he finished. The man counted it and nodded. “Thanks for paying in cash instead of asking if I take credit cards or have this app or that app.”

Dev didn’t have any apps for payment either. “No problem.” He accepted his keys from the guy and dropped them in his pocket. He turned around and jumped to find Jia standing right behind him, silent.

She was dressed in yesterday’s wilted clothes, carrying her camera and the sweats he’d bought her in the plastic bag they’d come in. This was the first time he’d ever seen her without makeup.

It was hard to look at her straight on, and not simply because she was so beautiful. He knew the names of each makeup tool she used to paint her face. There were layers of foundation and blush and highlighter and mascara and contour and eyeliner and shadow between them usually. Now, there was nothing.

His father used to tell him that he’d fallen in love with his mother within a few hours. She’d been a tailor’s daughter, someone he would have never even met if Adil Uncle hadn’t had a scholarship to the same private school his dad attended. They’d married within the month and had been happy together for the years they’d had.

But Dev had been skeptical

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