by Swati MH
Why couldn’t this have happened on my day off yesterday when I could have hauled the car to a mechanic? Now I’ll have to get an appointment and figure out a shift change with another nurse to take the car into the repair shop. I take a deep breath in to relax myself before grabbing my coffee and purse; I exhale as I step out of my Honda CRV to assess the damage.
Breathe. Worse things can happen.
As suspected, my driver-side front tire is completely flat. I walk around the car to make sure it’s just the front tire and that nothing else appears off. “Great. This is just--”
“Need a hand with that?” I jump when I hear a deep voice behind me. I don’t even need to turn to know who it is, but I do anyway. Of course, he would find me in my misery. This hospital employs hundreds of people--most everyone working to save lives and help people--but who comes to my rescue? None other than my pink, polka-dotted elephant.
Oh look! A worse thing just happened.
Deciding to meet his eyes directly, I control my gaze from straying away from his face so I don’t get distracted. It isn’t an easy feat since the rest of him begs to be admired as well. He’s like the statue of David; your eyes are going to wander. “No, thank you. I’m running late so this will just have to wait until after my shift.”
“Do you have a spare?” Vik asks, ignoring my statement and kneeling to inspect the flat.
“Yeah, it’s in the trunk. I’ll change it when I’m done with work.” I shift uncomfortably and glance at the time on my phone screen. “I have to get going right now.” My thumb points toward the hospital, even though he isn’t watching the movement.
Maybe he’s hard of hearing.
Squinting against the bright sun, he lifts his head to regard me. “Okay, how about you open the trunk for me, and I’ll get the spare out and change the tire? You can go into work. I don’t have an appointment for another half hour.”
I shake my head vehemently before he even finishes his sentence. No way am I going to owe this guy one. Who knows what he’ll ask for in return? Maybe an organ donation. I’m not making any deals with the devil. “No, it’s fine. I’ll do it once I’m off work.” I start jogging toward the hospital entrance, knowing that I’m being rude, leaving him there looking puzzled. “Uh . . . thanks again, though,” I call out when I’m almost at the entrance.
There. I’d said thanks twice now. That should cancel out my rudeness, right?
So why am I not feeling any better about it?
It’s just been one of those days. After getting an admonishing look from Barbara, our nurse manager, for being late, I had to deal with a myriad of issues. The pharmacy sent the wrong medication for one of my patients, so I had to call them and get that straightened out. Then, a new mom kept second-guessing everything I did--from bathing her baby to completing the baby’s vitals checks. I kept reminding myself that the new mother was just scared and that I shouldn’t take it personally.
Nonetheless, it was an exhausting day, and I wasn’t going to be able to just zip back home and relax. The fact that I still had to change a tire before I could even drive home was still in the back of my mind. Luckily, I was able to change my Saturday shift with another nurse so I’d at least have a chance to take it to the mechanic tomorrow to fix the flat before my date with Major.
After clocking out, I head to the parking lot and notice someone leaning against my car. Not just any someone, but a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-complexioned man with his gaze fixed on me. Like some sort of apex predator.
I’m sure he’s had the same long day I have had, but it irritates me that he still looks as fresh as when he got to work this morning--not a hair amiss, not a wrinkle on his perfectly tucked button-down, not even a slight shadow under his eyes--while I shift my purse to hide the coffee stain on my scrubs. Bastard.
Knowing I won’t be able to avoid talking to him, I steady myself and stand as tall as my five-foot-one inch frame will allow, much like the way one should stand when coming face to face with a bear. “Don’t you have better things to do like repair spines than stalk me?”
The corners of his mouth lift as his gaze sears into me like a diamond blade cutting metal. “There is no one better I’d like to do.”
I shake my head, not giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging his comment--no matter how much it makes my core clench. “Sorry, I don’t give rides to hitchhikers.”
He scratches his jaw, rubbing his hand slowly against the light scruff, his smile still intact. Whether he picks it up or not, he doesn’t address my double entendre. “That seems wise considering the state of your car at the moment.”
“It’ll be fine,” I say, unlocking my car door and throwing my purse onto the driver’s seat. I push the key fob to unlock the trunk.
Vik immediately goes to the back of my car to get the spare tire.
“You really don’t have to help me. I’ve changed a tire before.” Only once, and Dad did most of the work. “I’ll be fine doing it on my own.”
Why is his presence so unsettling? Why do I turn into a porcupine whenever he’s around? And why, for the love of God, am I still picturing myself swiping my tongue across his lips?
Giving me a pointed look as he passes by, he carries the tire and car jack to the front of the car, setting them near my flat. He rolls up his sleeves slowly, showing off his ridiculously gorgeous forearms with a soft smattering of dark hair. “I have no doubt that you can do it, but I’d like to help anyway.”
Within minutes, Vik has my old tire off while I try to make myself useful by giving him unneeded directions. I feel like the new helicopter mom I met today as she gave me directions on how to position her baby during his bath. After he puts the spare on, ensuring the bolts are tight, I gather the tools and the flat tire and put them inside the trunk of my car.
“Thanks,” I mumble, considering the ground next to him.
His smug smile suggests that he can see the physical pain I’m in after thanking him. “I’m sorry,” he leans closer, “what was that, little firecracker? Was that a ‘thanks’ that I just heard?”
Yup, he’s definitely hard of hearing.
I roll my eyes and speak a little louder for his benefit. “Yes, though, I’d like to repeat that I didn’t need your help. But still, thank you for saving me some time. It would have taken me longer.”
“Sure,” he says, victory written clearly on his face. “Though . . . I suppose I do deserve something for the favor I just did you.”
And there it is. The organ donation.
I scoff. “You mean . . . the favor you forced upon me?”
“Hey, you’re the one who just said I saved you time.” He puts both hands up in the air in a this-was-all-your-fault kind of way. “Now you have all this extra time on your hands.”
I don’t like where this is going . . ..
I squint at him. “Not that much extra time. Maybe ten minutes, and that’s if I’m being generous.”
“I’ll take whatever you can spare.”
I sigh, knowing this can’t be good. “What do you have in mind?” This is exactly why I didn’t want to owe him a favor. The less time I want to spend with this man, the more the universe resists.
He takes a step toward me, making me look up at him as his milk chocolaty gaze turns molten and a sinister smile plays on his lips. “Have a drink with me.”
I immediately protest, “No way. That would take way longer than ten minutes. Anyway, my car . . .. I shouldn’t drive too much on the spare.”
“The bar is right across the street so really, you wouldn’t have to drive far. I’m also perfectly happy to drive you in my car, if you’d prefer.” He winks and his wicked smile gets a little bigger.
I cross my arms over my chest to conceal my body’s reaction to his closeness and step back a few inches, putting some distance between us. Straightening my spine, I try again. “I . . . I’m dating somebody.” Okay, so I haven’t gone on an actual date with Major yet, but I mean, technically I said yes, so it’
s not a complete lie.
His gaze flicks to my lips before coming back to my eyes. “And does he have a problem with you having a drink with a coworker?”
I bite the corner of my bottom lip, debating how to answer that. This is where I could say yes, and let Vik think I’m dating a possessive man who doesn’t trust me. But my pride won’t let me utter that lie. I could make up another excuse, but he would probably ask me for another date and time. How long would I be able to brush him off? “Fine. One drink and I’ll drive myself.”
A triumphant look crosses his face and I swear I want to slap it right off.
“Wow, this place is . . . amazing!” I say, regarding the bar curiously. It’s visual stimulation overload.
I hadn’t realized it was so close to the hospital, which is indicative of my lack of social life. I even vaguely recognize a few of the patrons from the hospital. While it appears to be an unadorned and understated little place from the outside--tucked into the middle of an upscale apartment complex--on the inside, this bar is anything but. I imagine a lot of the single residents probably live in the apartment complex.
The bar has an incredibly unique vibe. There is a wall-to-wall aquarium on one side with what seem to be hundreds of different fish. The aquarium provides a blue backlight for some of the tables near it, while the other walls are covered with murals of mermaids and shipwrecks. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, yet it feels right at home here in San Diego.
“Yeah, it’s a pretty cool place, but living here can be a bit much some days,” Vik reveals after we sit at a high top table.
My eyes widen. “The hospital put you up here?”
“Yeah, actually. The other fellows live here, too. I’m sure the hospital got a good deal with the complex. Plus, it’s close by, so it makes the commute easier.”
“So, how many months do you have left on your fellowship?”
“Just around two. I did a few rotations at the naval hospital and then moved to this one to work with Dr. Hammonds.”
I nod. “How has it been so far? It’s quite the distance from New York.”
Before Vik can respond, the bartender comes to our table with the drinks we’d ordered earlier. “Here’s your strawberry vodka lemonade.” He sets my cocktail down in front of me. “And here’s your Pilsner. Can I get you guys anything else?”
Both Vik and I shake our heads, sending the bartender back. Vik turns back to me. “It’s been really good, actually. I’ve gotten a chance to learn a lot and be a part of some really interesting cases. And yes, it is a few miles from New York,” he smiles, “but I actually grew up in Santa Monica, so it feels good to be back on the West Coast.”
My brows lift. Avni hadn’t mentioned that Vik was originally from California. Though, why would she? I hadn’t ever inquired about him. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were from L.A.”
He gets a little crooked smirk on his face before taking a sip of his beer. I try hard not to focus on his lips around the rim of the glass. They are just normal lips, drinking normal beer out of a normal glass. I’m sure they would taste normal, too. Wait, what? “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, but maybe we can change that.”
I ignore his suggestion, along with the way that smirk makes my stomach do a somersault. “Do you still have family there?”
“Yeah, my mom and little brother still live there.”
“Do you get a chance to visit often?”
“I tried to plan a weekend every month when I was in New York, and I’ve gone twice since I moved here. In fact, I’m driving there tomorrow morning, but it’s hard to get a weekend free with my schedule.”
He visited every month when he was in New York? That seems excessive even to me, and I live with my dad. To get on such a long flight every month for only a short weekend trip home is quite a commitment--a commitment from a commitaphobe and self-indulgent narcissist?
Has the Earth decided to spin the other way?
I can’t help but squint dubiously at him. “You visited your family in California every month from New York?”
He shrugs. “Yeah . . . I tried to. Why does that surprise you?”
I take a sip of my drink, letting the sweet and tart liquid sit on my tongue for a moment before swallowing. It gives me a chance to mull on my response. Why does it surprise me? Is it because I’ve already decided I know his type--the ones who put their own needs before anyone else’s? The ones who claim they’re committed but leave as soon as something gets too heavy? The ones who rely on their wealth and status to bail them out of a situation? Yeah, I know that type well, but I’m not sure I want to voice that to him. He did help me when he didn’t have to. “I don’t know. I guess . . . it just does.”
“Like I said, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He takes another sip, watching me the entire time like he’s assessing me for cracks, trying to figure out how to break me. “But enough about me. Tell me about you. You’re dating someone, huh?” He lifts one eyebrow up.
I wiggle on my chair. “Yeah . . . it’s still new.” I don’t know why my cheeks flush, as if he’s caught me in a lie.
“Okay . . ..” He leaves it open for me to add more and when I don’t, he asks, “How did you guys meet?”
Uh-oh.
I try to keep my gaze steady so I don’t look shifty-eyed. “Well, um . . . we haven’t met yet, technically. I’m going out with him tomorrow night.”
Vik nods and a ghost of a smile plays on his lips. “I see. So, I’m assuming you met him on an app.”
“Yeah, a friend of mine has had a lot of success on it, so I thought I’d try it out.” I’m not sure why I’m feeling the need to justify why I used an app.
He leans back on his chair, putting one elbow on the backrest and giving me a view of his flat and lean torso. The button-down shirt he’s wearing does nothing to hide an undeniably fit frame and what I’m sure are well-developed abs underneath. “I don’t know why I find that really surprising for you to be using a dating app.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with using dating apps, but I find it insane that you haven’t been snatched up already. In case you don’t know this about yourself, you’re fucking beautiful. How you’re single is beyond my comprehension.”
My cheeks flush and I hate the traitorous smile that blooms on my face. I clear my throat in an effort to calm my erratic heart rate. “Thanks. It’s been a little difficult to meet people with the amount that I work, and I’m sort of a homebody so going to bars and stuff isn’t my thing, either.”
“Well, I guess I’m lucky that I was able to convince you to come to this one.” His intense stare causes a strange thrill that zips through me.
I take the last sip of my cocktail right as the waiter comes back to our table to ask us if we want to replenish. I politely decline, thankful for the interruption. I need to get some fresh air and space away from the gorgeous man sitting in front of me. “I should really get going.” I shift in my chair. “I need to make sure my dad’s eaten and has taken his meds.”
Vik’s eyebrows furrow momentarily, presumably wondering about my family situation, but he doesn’t ask me to elaborate. “Yeah, no worries.”
I’m just reaching into my purse for my wallet when Vik stops me. “I’ve got this since I forced the favor on you anyway.”
“Oh no, let me get this. You helped me with my tire and I owe you.”
Vik hands the waiter his credit card before I can stop him. When the waiter leaves, I see that sinister smile tip Vik’s lips up and my shackles rise again. “Then consider my debt unpaid. I’m not in the mood to collect today.”
I shake my head. “No. You said one drink and that is what this was. Consider us even.”
He chuckles. “That’s not how it works. As the debtee, I decide when I want to be paid.”
I laugh incredulously. “Those are some fraudulent practices. You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
He raises one eyebrow befo
re lowering his voice. “That’s been said many times . . . and in many positions.”
I’m positive he sees my eyes get stuck in the back of my head during my eye roll. “I’m going to go now. Thank you again for the help with my car and for the drink.”
“You’re welcome.” He’s smiling more broadly this time, his gleaming smile seizing all my attention.
Getting off my chair after grabbing my purse, I square my shoulders. “Oh, and Vik?”
He sweeps a glance up my body. “Yes, little firecracker.”
“We’re even,” I declare, keeping my nerves intact and speed-walking out of the bar so fast you’d think I’d just committed a crime.
5
Vik
“Hey, runt.” I lock my little brother’s head inside my elbow and rub my knuckles against his hair.
“Ah! Get off me, bhai. You’re such a dick.” My brother stumbles a little but wiggles out of my grasp and uses his crutches to right himself before walking over to the mirror to fix his hair. He’s used to this reception from me for almost twenty-three years. I don’t do mild-mannered, walk-on-eggshells, and sympathy-filled greetings with him like most of my extended family does. In my eyes, he can do anything he puts his mind to and only lacks some mobility that others may have. It could be worse.
I remember the day he was born and how my aunt, Avni’s mom, took me to see him at the hospital. My dad was still alive then and it was a proud moment for him to hold his second son in his arms. After two miscarriages--something my ten-year-old self didn’t know at the time--and many tears, Ma and Pops finally had another child. They were so happy.
“This is your baby brother, Vinay Kumar Bedi,” Pops said to me after he made me sit on a chair and handed me the baby. “He’s your responsibility, Vikas, probably more than he is ours. You have to take care of him as he gets older and be there for him each step of the way. Can you do that?”
I nodded as if I’d taken care of babies and little brothers a hundred times before. I suppose confidence was something I never lacked.
