The Boy Toy

by Nicola Marsh

  “The upma is made from roasted semolina, with curry leaves, onion, chili, mustard and cumin seeds, and chana dahl mixed through it. It’s amazing.”

  She looked so animated, so enthused, he wanted to drag her across the table and devour her rather than the food she’d described.

  “The idlis are made from a special rice and urad dahl ground together, fermented, then steamed.” She pointed to the dollop of red on his plate. “And that’s coconut chutney. It’s so good.”

  “Thanks,” he said, surprised to find himself salivating, and after he forked some upma into his mouth, he knew why. If the aromas of sautéed spices weren’t tempting enough, the explosion of flavor made his taste buds dance.

  He must’ve made a weird noise, because he glanced up to find her staring at him with a beguiling mix of approval and admiration.

  “Told you so,” she said, grinning. “Try the idlis.”

  When he picked up a knife and fork to cut it, she shook her head. “Like this.”

  She broke off a piece with her fingers and dunked it in the chutney before popping it into her mouth. Her blissful expression made him hard in an instant.

  “That good, huh?”

  “Better,” she said, with a wink, and he forced himself to focus on eating rather than thinking about other ways he could put that ecstatic expression on her face.

  He found the idlis rather bland, but the chutney was delicious, and he cleared his plate quickly, to find she’d done the same.

  When the waitress placed stainless steel mugs of steaming masala chai in front of them and cleared their plates, Samira said, “I know I’ve already said this, but one of the things I like most about you is your ability to enjoy this”—she waved her hand between the two of them—“without endless chatter. It’s refreshing.”

  If she only knew that the source of her admiration for his preference for silence came from necessity rather than any grand plan on his part.

  “I don’t see the point of talking for the sake of it,” he said, hoping she couldn’t read the truth on his face. “Listening is much better.”

  She sighed, the corners of her mouth curving. “You may just be the unicorn of men.”

  “Because I’m rare or because you think I have a mighty horn?”

  She laughed so loud several people at nearby tables turned to stare, but she didn’t care and neither did he. There was something about this spontaneous woman that captivated him.

  Which meant he should run for the hills before it was too late.

  * * *

  * * *

  Samira knew bringing Rory to Dandenong was a big risk. Any number of her mom’s acquaintances or the dreaded auntie brigade— a group of local elderly Indian women who judged everyone and found them lacking—could spot them together and carry the news back to Kushi before she’d finished her masala chai. But she didn’t care. In fact, a small part of her had done this defiantly, almost daring fate to catch her sharing breakfast with a young Aussie guy far removed from Kushi’s version of the perfect man.

  She could’ve ditched him after breakfast, but she didn’t want to, and not from any nefarious reason to flaunt him in the face of tradition. No, there was much more behind her invitation to him to accompany her on a stroll around her old stomping ground, and it revolved around how damn addictive this guy was.

  She’d never met anyone like Rory before. He had this way of looking at her that made her feel like the only woman in the world. And his silent strength made her want to delve beneath the surface while enjoying the calmness he emanated too.

  She wasn’t a big talker herself and hated when guys she’d dated would overpower the conversation every time. With Rory, he made her appear garrulous, and she liked it. The best thing was, rather than worrying about whether he was hiding some deep, dark secret, she was enjoying living in the moment.

  Nothing could come of this. They were opposites in every way; he was too young for her, and she’d be leaving in just over five months. So who cared if her one-night stand had morphed into two? Maybe more if she was lucky, considering his expertise between the sheets?

  That was why she’d agreed to his offer to have a drink last night, knowing they’d end up having sex. But she hadn’t expected to open up to him about Avi or hint at her mom’s involvement in keeping her away from home. Those damn good listening skills of his had got to her, yet after she’d blabbed, she hadn’t felt so bad. In fact, he had this way about him . . . like he empathized.

  He’d made her feel so good last night, it had seemed natural to invite him to have breakfast and spend more time together. She’d half expected him to refuse, and when he didn’t, she’d experienced a buzz of happiness she hadn’t in a long time.

  “I haven’t been to this part of town in years,” he said, taking hold of her hand as they strolled along Walker Street past Indian clothing stores, sweetshops, and a barber. “It’s incredibly cosmopolitan.”

  “You sound like the tourist, not me,” she said with a laugh. “At least, that’s what I feel like considering I haven’t been back home for so long, and even then it was only a flying visit.”

  She expected him to probe, to ask more about why she hadn’t been home since her dad’s funeral, but once again he remained silent, leaving her to divulge as much or as little as she wanted.

  “I’ve lived in Dandenong for twenty-five years and LA for twelve, yet America feels more like home. What does that say about me?”

  His grip on her hand tightened. “You’re thirty-seven?”

  Oops. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, she’d let that gem slip inadvertently. “Yeah. I’m old.”

  “You’re spectacular.” He tugged on her hand until she fell against him, and he pressed his mouth to hers in a scorching kiss that made her weak-kneed.

  When he released her, she swayed a little, unable to keep the grin off her face. If she needed the validation the age gap didn’t matter to him, she’d just got it.

  Capturing her chin, he tipped it up to eyeball her. “I like you, Samira. I want you to know that, and this has been the best first date I’ve ever had.”

  Her throat tightened with emotion, and she swallowed before saying, “Right back at you.”

  And she meant it.

  But she wanted to make inroads with her mom this trip. She wanted to mend fences and ease old animosities.

  So how would Kushi feel when she discovered her precious daughter was not only shunning her mother’s choice of man but had chosen a decade-younger Aussie stuntman to date?

  Fifteen

  Samira had never been more tempted to head back to the city with Rory and spend the rest of the day with him. But after last night and their leisurely morning, which had morphed into a pretty special first date, she needed some space before she did something silly: like tie him to her bed for the next five months.

  She’d been with the guy twice now and shouldn’t be feeling this . . . dazzled. She didn’t believe in love at first sight or soul mates or any of that romantic crap. But hanging out with Rory made her feel good in a way she hadn’t experienced in forever.

  The way he’d reacted to her age, like it meant nothing, surprised her. She’d expected a withdrawal of some sort, a hesitation, at worst an excuse to cut short their morning. Instead, he’d held her hand like he didn’t want to let go and had been all too keen to share a falooda, her favorite Indian drink, at one of the many sweetshops she remembered from childhood, where they’d lingered, laughing over his mispronunciation of gulab jamuns and rasgullas.

  It was so easy being with him. She’d never dated an Aussie guy even though she’d grown up here, because she’d had to concentrate on her studies in high school and uni, and then dated a few of her mom’s “suitable choices” before she’d married Avi. Her mom would’ve burned her best sari if she’d brought an Aussie home back then. Which begged the questio
n, how would Kushi react now?

  No way was she ready to find out, so she bade farewell to Rory at the station and headed to her mom’s, battling the usual guilt. She’d been so busy at work she hadn’t visited all week; though that could have more to do with the fact the few times they chatted on the phone, Kushi kept badgering her about Manish. She had to agree Manish was a nice guy, but considering he’d seen her barf the first and last time they met, she wasn’t in a hurry to catch up, no matter how much Kushi insisted.

  Parking outside her childhood home, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. Rory had seemed keen to spend the day with her, and dropping him at the station had been tough. How had he gotten under her skin so fast? Before she could second-guess her impulse, she slid her cell from her bag and brought up his number. She could text but had a sneaking suspicion what she wanted to say would come out all wrong. At least if she screwed up while talking to him, he couldn’t look back and see evidence of her idiocy in print.

  Gnawing on her bottom lip, she hit the “call” button.

  “Hello?” His deep voice sent a shiver of longing through her, which was totally crazy considering she’d had her fill of him well and truly last night.

  “Surprise.” Damn, she sounded too perky and quickly tempered her enthusiasm with a calmer, “I thought it only polite to ring and make sure you haven’t been accosted by any punks on the train.”

  He laughed, and her skin rippled with awareness. “Babe, the train’s only just pulled out of the station. Give the gangs a few minutes to pull out their weapons.”

  “Don’t joke about that,” she said, hating the thought of anything happening to him. Ludicrous, to care this much about a guy she barely knew, but she couldn’t help it. She was smitten. She blamed the phenomenal sex. It addled her brain.

  “You started it with that feeble excuse for calling me.”

  “Can’t you give a girl a break?”

  “I thought I already did last night.” He lowered his voice. “Several times.”

  Her thighs clenched. “Aren’t you remotely interested in how I got your number?”

  “From my agent’s original referral, I’m guessing. I’ve been waiting for your call ever since.”

  “You could’ve got my number from Pia.”

  He made a cute snorting sound. “Too icky, mixing business with pleasure.”

  “Fair point.”

  “So do you want me to swap trains at the next station and come back? Because like I said, I’m more than happy to extend our first date into an all-day affair that lasts well into the evening . . .” He ended on a seductive purr that made her want to say hell yeah, but she really owed her mom a visit. “I like you, Sam, and I’m hoping our first date can extend to another?”

  “Only if 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 term of endearment.”

  “His name’s Rory, and if you want me to keep you posted on proceedings, you better start using it.” Samira feigned nonchalance designed to distract. “Besides, there’s nothing to tell.”

  Samira picked up her chai and took a sip when Pia said, “I saw you two last night.”

  The chai caught in her throat, and she coughed several times while Pia smirked.

  “Where?” she finally managed to get out.

  “Leaving the center together, and from your haste and your horny expressions, it looked like you couldn’t wait to find
somewhere more private.”

  Samira bit back a grin. “There’s no such thing as a horny expression.”

  “Sure there is, and you two could’ve been poster models for it.” Pia crooked her finger and leaned over. “Quick, tell me everything before the busybodies return.”

  Samira could fob off her cousin’s curiosity, but it was nice having someone to confide in, considering she was in the midst of her first full-blown crush in forever.

  “He came back to my apartment, we had amazing sex again, we made Punjabi eggs together, he stayed the night, and I took him for Indian brunch not far from here, then we strolled around Dandenong for a bit.”

  By the time she’d finished, Pia’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung open a tad.

  “Wow. Are you two dating?”

  The million-dollar question, because in what warped universe did a one-night stand with a decade-younger guy turn into any kind of relationship?

  “Sort of.”

  Pia’s eyebrows shot up. “What does that mean?”

  Before she could formulate a response, Kushi and Sindhu bustled out of the kitchen carrying a platter each and bearing down on them.

  “This conversation isn’t over,” Pia hissed under her breath. “But for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, Cuz. He’s hot.”

  A blush heated Samira’s cheeks as she remembered exactly how accurate that description of Rory was. Hot and then some.

  But as she nibbled on a vegetable samosa and listened to her mom and aunt swap gossip about the latest scandal in the local Indian community, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was reading too much into this thing with Rory. They may have spent two nights together and had a first date this morning, but they could never have anything more than a fling. And while some lighthearted hookups were exactly what she needed, for the first time in a long time she wondered if her mom had the right idea . . . What would it be like to have more?

  Sixteen