by Alisha Rai
“I have to work.”
Bikram shot Katrina a speculative look, and Jas hastily corrected himself. Maybe he did use Katrina as an excuse far more than he realized. “I mean, I can’t come.”
Katrina’s brow creased. “You don’t need to work then. Go to the parade.”
He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t go to the parade. He stabbed a piece of cauliflower and ate it, though it tasted like ashes. “No.”
Andrés’s face tightened. “The whole community will be there. How will it look if my own grandson doesn’t attend?”
The knot in his stomach grew tighter. “Tell everyone I have to work.”
“Your boss gave you the night off.” Andrés pointed at Katrina. “You’re coming.”
Something in his brain always short-circuited when his grandfather used that tone. All he wanted was to do the opposite of what the man decreed. This time, though, he literally couldn’t comply with his grandpa’s orders. “I can’t.”
“You will.”
“No.”
Andrés slammed his fist on the table, rattling the dishes. “Damn it, Jasvinder, you will—”
“Okay,” Bikram interjected. “Let’s all calm down.”
“I will not.” Andrés threw his napkin on top of his plate. “I have given you everything you could have ever wanted. Every advantage. A company, land, business. And you have done nothing but throw it away, time and again.”
“Andrés,” Daisy implored. “Enough.”
His grandfather shot to his feet. “Don’t come to the parade. Embarrass me in front of everyone. But understand this: if you are not there, I will consider it a sign that you do not wish to be a part of this family.”
Chapter Nineteen
AFTER ANDRÉS STORMED off, Daisy corralled Katrina into the kitchen with the excuse of showing her some cookware she’d just bought. Jas suspected it was a ruse so he and his brother could be alone.
So it was no surprise when Bikram came outside, to where he was leaning against the car. His brother had always come to console him after a fight and plead their grandfather’s case.
Bikram’s words were blunt when he sidled up next to Jas. “You have to come to this ceremony.”
Jas rolled his lips in. “I can’t.”
“Listen, I know he’s stubborn, and you two are like hissing cats the second you get in the same room together.” Bikram leaned against the car as well. “Which I don’t get at all. Grandpa’s so easygoing with me and the staff and everyone else, and you keep your cool with everyone but him. Why can’t you two chill with each other? This has been going on for as long as I’ve been alive.”
Jas grunted. Their sniping had been going on for as long as Jas was alive. “You’re more his grandson than I’ll ever be.”
“Ah, but that’s not true, is it?” Bikram squinted at the trees that surrounded the paved driveway. “I’m not his grandson by blood. You are.”
Jas’s teeth almost cracked, he ground them so hard. There was no bitterness in Bikram’s tone—he was merely stating a fact. Grandpa adored Bikram, he mentored him, loved that the younger man appreciated the land as much as he did.
But Jas was the one who was supposed to have been the heir apparent to the peach throne. He was the one who had chosen to enlist, and, in doing so, betrayed their great peach legacy.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Bikram knocked his shoulder against Jas’s. “I’m fine with not being the heir. Relax.”
“Easier said than done,” he muttered.
Bikram sighed. “I’m scared he means what he says, Jas. That was harsh. Come to the parade.”
He rubbed his hand over his chest. It ached at the thought of his grandfather considering them to no longer be family. “I can’t come.”
“I don’t get this at all.” Bikram’s frustration was evident. “You were so willing to smooth things over with me when I was cranky with you. Why not him?”
Jas lowered his head. Because he didn’t know how to tell his grandfather why he couldn’t come to the big, noisy, crowded event. The words were there in his head, he simply didn’t know how to force them past his lips.
Bikram pulled a pack of gum out of his pocket and offered it to Jas.
“Telling me my breath stinks?” Jas tried, a rough attempt at a joke.
“Nah, it’s not too bad, but it could be better. Especially if you find yourself in close quarters with someone you want to kiss.”
Jas froze.
That was his mistake.
Like a predator scenting prey, Bikram faced him. “Oh my God. You kissed someone.”
“I did not.”
“Who?”
“No one.” Too quick, damn it. He had answered too quick!
His brother nearly bounced on his toes. “It was Katrina, right? I knew she wasn’t just a client!”
Jas growled. “Shut up.”
“I like her. This is great.”
“You didn’t like her this morning.”
“I changed my mind. Have you eaten her cobbler? It’s amazing.” Bikram paused for a breath. “You kiiiiiiiissed her.”
He resisted the immature urge to pull his brother into a headlock to get that smug look off his face. “Bikram.”
“Admit it. Admit it, and I’ll leave you alone.”
He gritted his teeth. “I kissed her, okay?”
The words slammed between them and Jas closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to say that. He shouldn’t have said that. Not to Bikram, not when he hadn’t so much as apologized to Katrina.
Bikram whistled.
Jas scrubbed his hands over his face. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Uh-huh. When did it happen?”
“You said you’d leave me alone if I admitted it.”
“I lied. You don’t seem happy about this. Did she not like it? Are you a bad kisser?”
Jesus. How had they even gotten from talking about his grandfather potentially disowning him to this? “I don’t think so.”
Bikram’s face turned grave. “You don’t know if someone likes it when they’re kissing you yet? Oh, Jas. That’s so sad. How much did you come in? How much did she?”
“What?”
“There’s a seventy percent test when you want to kiss someone.” Bikram crossed his arms over his chest. “You lean in seventy percent. Then they lean in thirty percent. If they don’t lean in, you lean back. How much did she lean?”
He replayed the kiss in his head, but trying to figure out the percentages of their leans baffled him. “I don’t know.”
“Hmm, yes, yes, I see.” Bikram paced in front of him, stroking his beard. “What about eyes? Open or closed?”
“Mine or hers?”
“Both.”
“I don’t remember, Bikram.”
“This is important stuff.”
He threw up his hands. “I don’t see why.”
“Because I don’t think you’re upset about the kiss, you’re upset because you don’t know if she liked it. Like, if she had liked it, would you be okay?”
Yes. If she had liked it and wanted it, he’d be better than okay.
“Aha,” Bikram said softly. “Knew it.”
Jas tugged at his collar. It might be cool outside, but he was too warm. “Knew what?”
“One thing you learn when you spend a lot of time with crews is how to read people. Whenever you’d call, I would count how many times you said Katrina. Katrina said this, Katrina did that, Katrina’s so smart, Katrina . . . after a while I had to stop counting. Especially after Hardeep died and you moved to Santa Barbara.”
Probably because he’d no longer felt so guilty about coveting his boss’s wife.
Bikram shook his head when Jas stiffened. “You were so gone on her, I think that’s when I kinda started assuming she was keeping you wrapped around her finger.” He pointed at the house. “But she’s earnest and sweet, and she really loves that big dog, so if you are wrapped around her finger, I think that’s okay.”
Bikram wa
s a sucker for animal lovers. “Where are you going with this?”
“I’m saying . . . I don’t know if she likes you, or liked that kiss, but I know you like her and you liked that kiss. You could try telling her that and see what happens.”
Like was too weak a word. He liked his mom’s rotis and he liked the smell of rain.
He . . . well, he more than liked Katrina.
When he didn’t reply to Bikram’s suggestion, his brother gave a half laugh. “Okay, fine. Bury down your feelings on this if you want, or you could have a conversation like damned adults. You might be surprised what comes of it.”
“And if nothing comes of it?” Jas asked roughly. He would have disturbed their relationship more and could be left with nothing.
“And if something comes of it?” Bikram countered.
The words shut Jas up. Such a simple way to turn his own fear around. Both realities were possible. Right?
Bikram straightened away from the car as Katrina came out the front door of the big house. She held multiple foil packages in her hands, which told him Daisy had packed up the whole table for her to reheat later.
Bikram slapped him on the back. “Quit dancing around each other. It must be exhausting. Wouldn’t it be so nice to stop fighting all this?”
Jas watched his brother walk away, the words hitting close to home. He was exhausted. Exhausted from shoving everything down. The other things he locked up tight in his soul, he did it because they made him feel bad.
His feelings for Katrina made him feel good.
Her hips swayed as she walked toward him, and the moonlight lit her hair a silvery brown. Jas opened the back door. She was so beautiful, and Bikram was right. He wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. He wanted to kiss her again.
He took the packages from her once she was close enough. She murmured her thanks and ignored the open back door to get into the front passenger seat.
“What are you doing?”
She buckled her seat belt. “I’ve always hated sitting back there. I’ll sit here from now on.”
Okay. What was that about?
She closed her door before he could ask. Jas put the food into the trunk and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.
He felt like a teenager, or about as emotionally fluent as one. He started the car and searched for something to say, but she spoke first.
“You never talk about your grandpa.”
There was no accusation in her voice, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I don’t.” He coughed once. “You can see why. We have a complicated relationship.”
“I can see that he loves you, but he’s also deeply, terribly angry with you.”
She deserved some kind of explanation for having to sit through that dinner. “My grandpa was mad when I joined the Army.” That was an understatement. “When he was young, he protested wars, railed against the military complex. I think it’s because his dad was in the British Army, and he saw what that short stint did to him. Grandpa didn’t talk to me for a year after I was deployed. And then, after I was injured and discharged, I think he got madder that I didn’t come home to the farm.” Instead, Jas had gone to work for Hardeep. It had been a heaven-sent job, where he could contribute something and heal and learn new skills.
She angled her body toward him. “Did he want you to take over the farm?”
“Oh, without a doubt.” Jas turned down the dirt road to the little house. “He puts a lot of stock in bloodline, as you see. I was supposed to be the heir. But I knew from the time I was . . . twelve, maybe, that it wasn’t what I wanted. I like gardening, but not farming. I have no connection to the land, not the way he does. Definitely not the way Bikram does. But Bikram’s not blood.”
“Ah.”
He parked in front of their house. Funny, how it was their house, when they’d only stayed here together for a few days. “I can take out Doodle,” he said, when the dog came racing up to the front door.
She took the leftovers from him. “Thanks.”
The dog quickly did her business, and they returned inside. Doodle went straight to her food bowl, which Katrina had freshened.
“Does it hurt Bikram? To not be in line to inherit the farm?” she asked, continuing their earlier conversation.
“I think so. I don’t know. He refuses to talk to me about it. Always has.”
She made a commiserating noise. “That puts you in a terrible position.”
It was strange, to talk to someone about this. Someone on his side, who could see things more objectively than his family could.
It was nice, actually.
He busied himself with removing his shoes. “It does.” It made him resent his grandfather even more.
“Do you think he’ll actually disown you?”
Nausea churned. He nodded once, not eager to discuss that prospect.
She seemed to sense he was done talking. “Do you want wine?”
“I—yes.” That was a good idea. They’d occasionally shared a glass of wine together. The wine would remind them of what good friends they were.
And then he’d . . . apologize.
Bikram’s voice rang in his head. Tell her.
Either way, they could do with alcohol.
He accepted the glass of wine she handed him and followed her to the living room. She dropped down onto the couch. After a moment’s hesitation, he sat down next to her.
He’d turned on the Tiffany lamp next to the couch, and she’d done the same with the overhead light. The dancing colors warred with the harsh light. Her sketch pad was spread out over the desk in the corner. She wasn’t a good artist, even she admitted that, but she stuck at it.
She stuck at a lot of things. It was one of the bajillion things he admired about her.
She took a sip of her wine. Her face was so . . . peaceful, in a way he didn’t usually see it at home when she was focused on a project or work. Except when she was cooking.
A sharp crack came from outside, and the peace was disturbed. She jumped. He jumped, too, but then relaxed. “It was a branch,” he said.
Her shoulders slowly lowered from her ears. “Oh. Right. If it was a person, the guard outside would have notified you, right?”
“Yes.” Lorne’s people were discreet, but he trusted them to show up when need be.
They sat in silence for a while. There were a million things they could talk about or do. They could check up on the hashtag or he could contact Lorne, or they could talk about how his grandfather might really never speak to him again. But that would mean the real world intruding on their peace. And that was the last thing he wanted.
What do you want?
He moved his hand so it lay next to hers, his pinkie brushing her skin.
HE WAS TOUCHING her. It was so small and almost something Katrina could explain away as an accidental brush.
Zing.
He moved his finger against hers.
Take up space.
He inhaled deeply. “Katrina—”
“I liked kissing you. I’ve been wanting to do it for a while.”
He froze.
Though her heart sank in dread, she continued. Taking up space. “It seems that I have developed feelings for you at some point. I thought I could shove them away. Swipe them away with someone else. But I don’t actually know if I can re-create what I feel for you with someone else. Anyway, um, I am sorry I didn’t ask you first and sprang that kiss on you.” She shut her mouth to stop the babble of words.
Jas set down his glass on the coffee table. “Katrina . . . I kissed you.”
“No. I kissed you. Because I wanted to.”
“No, I kissed you.”
What was he talking about. “I’m pretty sure it was me who was the kisser, and you, who was the kiss-ee.”
His brow furrowed. “Do you remember how much we both leaned in?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Nothing. Moral of the story, I wanted to kiss you, as well.”
Her lips formed an O. “I see.”
His eyes crinkled. “Do you?”
“No.”
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he swayed forward, bridging the gap between them more than halfway. Then he waited.
It took her about half a second to close that gap.
The first brush of his lips against hers came as such a shock she jumped, though she’d wanted it.
His touch was soft and gentle, his lips exploring. He didn’t suffocate her and for that she was grateful—this was too new to risk feeling like her air was being cut off.
Her head spun. Part of her brain tried to comprehend that this was Jas she was kissing. Jas, her longtime friend. One didn’t kiss platonic friends, but here she was wrapping her arms around his neck and crawling closer.
Katrina had wanted sex, but in an abstract way. There was nothing abstract about this.
She wanted him. Not only for kisses, though this was nice. Oh no. She pressed closer to him, pushing him back against the couch so she could straddle him as they explored each other. His chest was hard against hers, his arms tight and steady. Because he was so steady. No wonder she felt safe and secure in his arms.
She pulled away and he blinked up at her, his eyes dazed. She imagined she looked just as confused. Her blood pumped fast in her veins, making it difficult to see or hear clearly. His fingers clenched on her hips and she nearly groaned when his erection rubbed against her.
He had an erection. For her.
To think she’d been so excited about hugs and kisses, and now she had his erection at her command.
She wanted it.
“Upstairs,” she managed. “Bedroom.”
He shook his head, and some of that dazed passion cleared from his expression. She braced herself for a denial, but instead he came to his feet in a rush, still holding her.
Any worry that she was too heavy for him disappeared when he easily took the stairs with her clutching him like a koala bear. He paused every few steps to kiss her, his hands roaming her back.
For a moment she wished they were at home, because she’d like to experience this in her own bed. That was okay, though. This was a different experience, not better or worse. She wanted every single experience.
