"I think you should stop being so mean to me, Zahed."
"Why would I ever do that?"
Aryan grins, a bright, wicked thing.
"Because I kiss you like this."
•
Mira Zahed and Aryan Shankar are at war.
When her best friend and his cousin decide to fall in...
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♥ ♥ ♥
BY THE TIME ARYAN RETURNS with the twins in tow, Daniel has ensured that my coffee creation is safely down the drain and a newly-made one— sans almond milk— sits warmly in my hands. The sky outside the barn's glass is cast in darkness, the moon watching sentiently over it. I can see the stars glinting against the night here on the ranch while they're usually missing from the sky, lost to the glamour of Hollywood.
I've claimed a stool behind the island as Daniel cleans the coffee grinder while suggesting what type of food to order. I hadn't even realised I'd be staying for food until he nods to the girls and Aryan the moment they step through the door, the sky now dark behind them, the green fields of the ranch now cast in long shadows. He'd listed an entire barrage of options to me before and I'd started to reconsider whether or not I'd hit my head as well from the way his endless list made my brain spin.
Where I'd failed to come up with an answer, Naz and Daya appear to have no such issue.
The door slams behind Aryan and Naz says, "Pizza."
"Sushi," Daya states at the same time.
They both cut stares at each other and I expect a catfight. I take an anticipating sip of the coffee.
The stars skim his shoulders as he walks across the barn while the twins square off.
I feel him settle behind me as I peer between the twins. I decide I'll be rooting for Daya, even though I don't like anything about the idea of raw seafood. But when someone's horse upsets your horse, it's customary that you don't root for them, even if Niccolo's on Ventura Boulevard has a vegan cheese slice that I'd commit murder for.
What I don't expect is for Aryan Shankar's arms to drift around me while I take another sip of coffee, eyeing the pending showdown. I slowly set down the cup, determined not to drop it and add to his growing ego over objects I break while distracted by him. But he is distracting.
His hands settle at the curves of my waist and I'm aware from the shattering warmth of that single touch, sinking past my borrowed shirt, to my skin, right down to my very blood, that I haven't had his hands on me for a while.
My head thumps into his chest as he claims the space behind my seat with utter ease, anchored to my waist, the calm beat of his heart filling my ears.
Before I could dare allow myself to get lost in that sound, I incline my head forward and return my attention to Daya and Naz. Aryan's hands stay at my waist while Daniel waits for the girls to give a decision.
