Kareena: I have a good feeling about this. The aunties set up online dating profiles for me without me asking for help. They sent me logins and everything. I started talking to a guy already and he wants to go out for coffee. That’s a good sign, right?
Bobbi: The fact that he didn’t waste five months of your life sexting through a hookup app? Yeah, definitely a good sign. But then again, you are a smoke show.
Kareena: Good. What color sweater vest do I wear?
Bobbi: Ahh, there you go, being the smoke show that you are.
Veera: Ignore her. Wear whatever you want. It’s a rule that first blind dates no longer require our best outfits.
Kareena: Black sweater vest it is. I don’t anticipate there being a hookup problem this time.
Bobbi: Ooh, bringing out the big guns.
Kareena: Don’t be an ass, otherwise no date debriefing for you.
Bobbi: Nooooo. Okay, I’ll stop.
Kareena stepped out of the car that she’d taken from the train station to the local coffee shop where she was supposed to meet her first date. She’d been a wreck for the last six hours, thinking about every possible way to cancel. It had been her first date in so long—first official first date, anyway—and she had completely forgotten all the rules. Was it normal to want to cancel and go home to read? And damn it, she really had to figure out how to control the sweating.
But she had to face the music at some point. Disregarding her timeline, and all the nonsense in her life that was happening at the moment, thirty was supposed to be the year that she focused on her personal life. This was all part of her life plan.
And she needed to try if she was going to have a fighting chance at her happily ever after.
Positive thoughts. Good energy.
She straightened her black sweater vest, turned her phone on silent to avoid any impending work calls that might come in, and walked into the trendy little shop to half-filled tables and the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans. There were chalkboard walls and a menu that included chai and claimed that it was “organic” and “authentic.” A bulletin board hung on the wall next to the entrance with a flyer for Thursday night poetry open mics.
The air smelled of vanilla and spice.
Hopefully just being in this place didn’t trigger an allergic reaction. She’d forgotten her EpiPen at home. Admittedly, that was stupid when she was going to a coffee shop, but she’d just have to be careful.
“Half caf soy chai tea with sweet foam for Courtney!” the barista yelled at the end of the counter.
Kareena checked her phone and scanned the faces of the people in line. Dave obviously wasn’t here yet. Or he was significantly older than he claimed to be, and she was being catfished.
A few people turned to stare at her, including one of the baristas behind the counter. Should she order? Should she sit down? Did people recognize her from the stupid viral clip on The Dr. Dil Show?
She’d wait outside so she didn’t look like the woman standing around waiting for her blind date. Kareena turned and ran straight into a brick-wall chest.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . oh no.”
Dr. Prem Verma, dressed in his hospital blue scrubs, grinned at her. “In all the coffee shops in all of New Jersey. Hello, Rina.”
She backed away, pressing a hand to her racing heart. “This can’t be happening.” He was so much taller than she remembered. She was five-seven, an easy five-nine with heels, and she still had to look up at him. “I’ve died and gone to hell.”
“Nope, you’re just in New Jersey.”
“You cannot be here,” Kareena hissed. She scanned the coffee shop, praying that no one was watching. “Go away before I pelt you with another drink.”
Instead of wariness, she saw a glint of challenge in his eyes. “Why so panicked? Is your date here yet?”
She froze. “How do you know I’m on a date?”
“Your sister found out from your grandmother and then told me.”
Kareena had to stop telling Dadi where she was going. That woman couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.
She stepped in closer to his chest and drilled a finger between his impossibly hard pecs. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish by being here today, but you need to leave. I don’t have time to deal with desi fuckboys.”
Prem’s broad shoulders straightened. “First, I am not a desi fuckboy. I may look gorgeous and have a medical degree, but I also have a sensitive side. Second, if you just give me a few minutes, then you don’t have to worry about your date at all.”
“Showing up is disrespecting my wishes, and that’s exactly what a desi fuckboy would do.”
“Something about you makes me think that you find a little disrespect sexy.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I fell for your cheesy jokes once, I’m not going to do it again.”
“Come on, you know you liked it,” he said. Prem winked this time.
Kareena pressed her finger harder against his pecs. Man, there was zero body fat there.
“What makes you think I’d ever want to waste another moment with you? Now if you’ll excuse me. I’m searching for true love.”
He gripped her finger, then pressed her hand flat against his chest. His skin was like hot fire under her palm. Prem then leaned in until their noses practically brushed. “It looks like your date isn’t here yet. Why don’t you sit and have a cup of coffee with me? We’ll call a temporary truce. We can talk about how our situations could be mutually beneficial.”
“I’d rather murder puppies,” she said, and pulled away from him. Her skin tingled.
Before she could step aside and exit the coffee shop, a man who looked like Dave’s profile pictures entered through the double doors behind Dr. Dil. He glanced at Prem, then at Kareena. His button-down shirt and slim-fit pants were in direct contrast to Prem’s scrubs. Like his pictures, he was clean-shaven with a trim haircut and a kind smile.
“Hi, Dave?”
He held out a hand to shake. “Yes, that’s me. I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”
“No, not at all.” Kareena ignored Prem’s rude muffled laugh and took Dave’s hand for the shake. She appreciated the handshake. There was no pressure, even though Dr. Dil obviously didn’t approve. “Just running into a . . . a total stranger.”
“Oh. Uh, okay? Should we find a seat?”
“Yeah, that works for me.” Kareena gave Prem one last dirty look and followed Dave across the coffee shop. She felt the prickle of Prem’s stare at the back of her neck and had to bite her lip to stop herself from shivering. Damn hormones. That’s all it was. There was nothing at all redeeming about Dr. Prem Verma, and the ache when she looked at him was probably a residual effect of prolonged abstinence.
Dave motioned to two armchairs facing each other next to the fireplace. It was a quiet corner, and casual enough that they didn’t have to worry about being too close to Dr. Dil.
“I can get drinks,” Dave asked after Kareena sat down. “What would you like?”
“A medium latte, please, with no foam. And definitely no cinnamon. Not even on top.”
He grinned at her, flashing straight white teeth. “For a second I was thinking you were going to give me a super complicated order. Half caf soy whatever. I was ready for it, too.”
Kareena smiled. “Medium latte, no foam, no cinnamon is as adventurous as I get.”
He nodded. “Yeah, now that you mention it, you look like a straight black coffee kind of person with that plain latte for special occasions.”
“Uh, I don’t—”
“I’m right, aren’t I? Dave said. He pointed a finger-gun at her. “I have made it a game to guess my date’s drink based on what I think their personality will be like. I’ll be right back.” Dave turned without another word and walked toward the counter.
Kareena whipped out her phone from her small bag.
Kareena: Do I look boring?
Bobbi: What?