Priya in Heels (Entangled Embrace) (3 page)

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Authors: Ayesha Patel

Tags: #Medical resident, #Ayesha Patel, #Middle Eastern Indian culture, #arranged marriage, #Multicultural, #Romance, #forbidden love, #Embrace, #Priya in Heels, #new adult, #contemporary romance, #Entangled

BOOK: Priya in Heels (Entangled Embrace)
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He dug into his pocket and dangled a key. “Come watch as I open my door.”

He turned and walked out. Vicki and I huddled at the doorway as Tyler, with his back to us, unlocked and opened his door two apartments down. He smiled at Vicki. Without giving me another glance, he said, “Have a good night, Vicki.”

“Whatever,” I muttered and flopped onto the couch.

“What’s wrong with you?” Vicki scolded after locking the door.

“Guy’s creepy.” I hugged a pillow to my chest. I was so tired, I could have fallen asleep while Vicki yelled at me.

“He’s friendly and
so
fine. Be nicer next time?”

“Next time?”

“I invited him over for dinner tomorrow.”

I grimaced. “I have a ton of work of to do. I can be real nice from the bedroom.”

Vicki shook her head and marched to her room.

“Real mature, Vickiben!”

The door muffled her reply.

She must really like this Tyler character, and who could blame her? A man blessed with looks, charm, and the ability to get into our apartment within an hour of meeting.

Chapter Four

Tyler

Damn, Pree was a tough nut to crack. No wonder she wasn’t dating anyone. Men were probably scared of her. She’d been nice to me when I was a patient, I guess she had to be, but the moment she’d realized I was hitting on her, she went from cute new doc with a kind bedside manner to whatever India’s version of She-Hulk was. But it was adorable. She thought she could chase me off so easily.

There was a knock at my door. I chuckled. She was already at my apartment?

I opened the door without bothering to check the peephole. The smile on my face faded at the sight of an inebriated Meagan, who was already pulling off her dress as she pressed against me.

She closed the door behind her and smothered me in kisses before I had the chance to pull away.

“What are you doing here, Meagan?”

“I missed you. You ran off so fast after that last song, I didn’t have a chance to talk to you.”

I maneuvered out of her arms, which reached, grabbed, and dangled like tentacles trying to capture prey. Wherever I stepped, she followed until she had me against the wall.

For a moment, I let her nudge my neck with her nose. I rolled my eyes and looked skyward. “We broke up. What are you doing here?”

“I miss you, Tyler. Let’s make up how we always do.”

I pulled her arms down and walked her backward until the back of her legs touched the couch.

“Oooh, the couch?” She giggled. “Remember all the good times we had on it?”

“Yeah.” I dragged out the word, not particularly wanting to recall those moments. “Do you remember why we broke up?”

“Can’t you forgive me?” She frowned and pawed at my chest.

“No. I’ll call you a cab.”

“I won’t take it.” She grabbed my wrist.

I knew how stubborn she was, but I could play this game, too. “Then drive home.”

“You don’t mean that. You don’t want me to hurt myself or someone else, right?”

“But you drove here?”


Psshaw
! I took a cab to The Harmon’s because I figured I’d go home with you. So I had to take a cab here. But I’m not leaving.” She swiped at my shirt, but I pulled away from her grasp and she fell backward onto the couch, giggling, laughing like the fool she’d been so often.

“Meagan.”

She didn’t answer.

“Meagan?”

I leaned over her. “Great,” I mumbled. I covered her with a blanket, retreated to my bedroom, and locked the door. The last thing I wanted was Meagan slipping into my bed.

The swelling in my ankle kept me up, along with random musings over Pree, a.k.a. Dr. Sexy. If I knew her at all, I knew she’d be up in a few hours to go to the gym. This time, she’d look at me because I’d gotten beneath her skin. She was curious about me. I could tell by the way she had stared instead of ignoring me and returning to her room. And now, I had something special tucked inside my arsenal—a meddling, well-intentioned roommate who was excited about getting us together.

I tossed and turned, my feet gathering bunches of blanket around them until they did a crocodile death roll. With an annoyed grunt, I eased out of bed and went to the other bedroom-turned-study. I might as well get some work done, and it would help to be alert while Meagan was around. She had a history of getting me to forgive her with sexual temptation. Although this time, things were different. I mean, not that I was remotely into Meagan anymore, but her sex appeal didn’t stand up against the riveting, snarky girl down the hall.

With all the lights turned on, because I didn’t care if I woke up Meagan, the computer hummed and I scrawled equations across the whiteboard. Ninety percent of my work was practical application and ten percent theoretical. The theoretical was more fun, like fantasizing about possibilities.

Focused on work, I didn’t see Meagan standing at the door until the shrilling noise of the alarm echoed through the open rooms.

“Still with the work, huh?” she asked, her voice groggy.

“Yep.”

The amount of time I spent working at home was something Meagan had never understood and had resented. Pree would understand. I bet Pree was a fish of the same color who worked her ass off and continued working after hours. Meagan was…I dunno…less than ambitious, I supposed.

“You look awake and coherent now. Want me to call a cab?” I asked without losing focus.

“I’ll call,” she grunted.

I followed her into the living room and listened to her slightly slurred demand over the phone. I maintained my distance and made coffee.

“You’re still sweet.” She inhaled the aroma over her mug and offered a lopsided smile.

Leaning against the half wall between the kitchen and the hall, I crossed my arms and watched her through heavy, sleep-deprived lids. She mumbled on and on about life, her mood shifting from irritated to bubbly. It was her way of dealing with rejection. At least this time, she took the hint.

Chapter Five

Priya

The alarm went off, a sharp, repetitive “beep” that pried my exhausted mind out of heavy slumber. The gray screen and blue numbers read 5:00 a.m.

Three hours of sleep. Ugh. I dragged myself out of bed. It took every ounce of strength, willpower, and determination to get up, put on gym clothes, and march outside.

A yawn escaped me when I heard boisterous laughter in apartment 5D. I paused in front of the brown painted slab of a door and considered pounding and running off, a non-confrontational way of telling Tyler to shut the hell up. But I wasn’t that gutsy. Or maybe I just wanted to see him for a tiny second.

The door opened. I jumped and briefly considered trying to play it off when a drowsy, laughing redhead walked out.

“Oh, hey. Looking for Tyler?” she asked as if we were in a brothel where we took turns with the menfolk.

I shook my head, but it was too late.

“Someone’s at the door!” the redhead yelled and trotted down the steps. Now
there
was a woman who could jog in heels.

I was just about to follow her when Tyler appeared. “What’s up, neighbor?”

“I don’t want you.”

“Are you sure?” He grinned, and the dormant fire in the pit of my gut bellowed. I wasn’t sure why. After all, another woman came out of his apartment less than ten seconds ago and he was already hitting on me.

Although, his sleepy eyes and messy hair only made him hotter. He tilted his head and took a gander at my knee-length snug sweats and form-fitting, pink tank top. “Nice.”

I growled and stomped off. Stupid stalker.

How nice that one of the best gyms in town was a decent fifteen-minute walk away. Driving for a workout was a bit counterproductive. This twenty-four-hour gym had its perks, especially when it offered classes from early morning to late evening. Yoga stretching was invigorating and spin classes kicked my butt. Kickboxing really toned my arms and legs, and core training worked the abs.

Today, the cardio theater called to me. I made a beeline past clanking weights and over-muscled guys to a huge, soundproof room with double doors and no windows. A piece of paper taped to the left listed this week’s DVD showings. They played the best movies. Today’s movie was the latest
Star Trek
. Awesome!

I held the door open long enough to illuminate the room then I hopped onto an unoccupied elliptical in the last row and went for it in front of the fast-paced sci-fi movie heavy with adventure and suspense. A great movie made the workout go by quickly. If a particularly good movie played, like today, I could work out for hours and watch the movie twice in a row.

The cardio theater was an ingenious idea. Plus, no one watched me in the dark. I didn’t care if my boobs flopped around, although this new sports bra hugged those puppies together.

Sweat drenched my clothes by the time my legs called it quits. With wobbly, sore extremities, I walked home. Showering at the gym wasn’t my thing, what with the colonies of bacteria on the shower floors and towels used by hundreds of people, even if they had been washed. Why bother when the apartment was a short walk away?

Plenty of people were riding bikes, rollerblading, jogging, or walking dogs on this beautiful Sunday morning. People, strangers and neighbors alike, waved. This neighborhood was safe, friendly, and within a short distance from the gym, a riverside park, work, and the clinic. The near-outlandish rent for the apartment was worth it.

The wind picked up, cooling the perspiration on my skin.

The phone rang as soon as I entered the apartment.

“Hi, Mummie. How are you?”

“Fine. How are you? What are you doing? Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m well, just getting home from the gym, and will eat oatmeal after my shower.”

“How can you eat oatmeal? That’s disgusting. Don’t you have any
nastho
left?”

Mummie made snacks and food from scratch every time I visited my parents. On my last trip to Austin, Mummie had made a huge batch of breakfast treats, which was made up mainly of fried noodles and lentils swimming in spices. Mummie ate
nastho
with
cha
every morning, but the fried food didn’t agree with me. Imagine an Indian who couldn’t eat Indian food!

“I have some, but oatmeal sounds good today.”

“We spoke with Manuk’s parents this morning. They’re coming to visit on the nineteenth. It’s a Sunday, so you have the day off. I believe you have the following Monday off, too?”

I cringed as I walked into the bedroom. “I’ll check my planner to see if anything’s going on.” I didn’t, and Mummie knew that as well. She asked for my ever-changing work schedule every month to plan out visits.

“If it’s not work, it can wait, right?”

“Of course.”

“You can come Saturday night, after work. I bought a beautiful sari for you to wear.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense,
beti
, this is an auspicious meeting. You are going to look so pretty, huh?”

“Thanks.”

“The sari is yellow and pink, so if you have some jewelry you want to wear with it, bring it. Maybe shoes, too. I don’t think we’ll leave the house, but you never know. Maybe you two want to go for a private walk around the neighborhood?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Sound happier! I went through a lot of trouble to arrange this.”

“I thought they asked about me first.”

“Okay, they did. It wasn’t too much trouble. They’re very excited. Manuk is, too. I think he is the one.”

“Great.” The idea of getting engaged was as thrilling as picking out light fixtures, except the latter could be changed if the need arose.

We said our good-byes. After a shower, I found a lazy, just out-of-bed Vicki in the kitchen in baggy sweat pants and a thin T-shirt.

“How can you work-out so early?” she groaned.

“It’s hard, but I feel so much better. You should come more often.”

“Not likely. I’ve come to terms with my pudginess.”

I poured hot water from a kettle over instant oatmeal and added a bit of milk and sugar. “Guess what my mom called about.”

“Oh, yeah. I wondered.
Hmm
. Late at night and not bad news?”

“Depends on your definition of bad news.”

“Death is always bad news, and so is an illness. Aha!” Vicki beamed. “Another suitor?”

“Why does that make you so happy?”

“Because I guessed right. Who is it this time?”

“Manuk—the dentist from Dallas.”

“Sounds nice.”

“She doesn’t understand that I’m not interested in getting married yet.”

“At least you have an excuse. Residency is pretty much like you’re still in school because you
are
still studying.”

“She has it planned out: get engaged next year and get married right after residency, move to Dallas and work there.”

“My parents hassle me every time they talk to me. So nice they live in Dallas, you know? Far enough that we don’t see each other all the time, but close enough to drive to. I wonder if they know Manuk. Probably, right?”

I nodded. “How have you avoided getting roped into initial meetings?”

“I told them the truth. I don’t want to get married yet and they should relax.”

“And they accepted it?”

“What are they going to do? Drive here, tie me up, and force me to go to Dallas?”

“I wonder if they considered bringing a guy here.”

Vicki lowered her coffee mug and stared wide-eyed at me. “They wouldn’t!”

“Just saying.”

“As I grow more obstinate, they’ll have to get craftier. You’d tell me if they called or dropped by, right?”

“Yes! The way our parents are, we’ll get duped into a double wedding.”

“Cost effective.”

“Now who sounds like an Indian mother?”

Vicki stuck her tongue out.

I teased, “All you have to say is that you’re dating the white guy down the hall.”

“Tyler? Yum. Although that would kill them.”

“God, you remember Asha Shah?”

Vicki nodded in mournful memory.

“She hooked up with a black guy. Her parents actually shipped her to India and married her off. You know how she’s doing?”

“She has like three kids and stays at home. I think he drinks a lot.”

“If she couldn’t make it out of getting shipped and married off, there’s no way she’ll divorce him and return. She should’ve stood up for herself. They might’ve disowned her, but that’s better, I think, than living her life out with that guy.”

We shared a moment of silence and mutual concern.

“My parents wouldn’t do that to me. Not that they could. Asha was still a teenager, but I’m a grown woman,” Vicki declared.

“Same here…but…”

“Too much pressure.”

“So we’re meeting Manuk and his family at my parents’ house in a couple weeks. You want to go in my place? You can pose as me, like how Padme’s servant posed as her in public.”

“What?”


Star Wars
.”

“Nerd. Speaking of Padme,
she’s
getting married.”

“Not her, too! We’re all being plucked off the radar.”

“I saw her a few months ago and she mentioned being interested in someone. Maybe they wanted a quick engagement,” Vicki commented. “She seemed happy about the deal.” She slid an envelope across the counter that disclosed Padme’s wedding information.

After taking a look, skimming over the details but appreciating the elaborate red and gold embossed invitation, I meandered toward the bedroom. Marriage was just that: a business deal.

“What are you doing today?” Vicki asked.

“Sleeping.”

A good workout and a nice shower always zonked me out, but I didn’t sleep long, or well. I watched cartoons in bed. Yes, a twenty-four-year-old doctor liked cartoons. Adult cartoons, not the smutty ones, just the ones with adult humor. With so much studying and thinking and reading medical papers, cartoons were a nice getaway.

Vicki made a racket in the kitchen when she returned after grocery shopping. Gradually, delicious scents filled the apartment, and when the big stuff hit a sizzling pan or cooked in the oven, a wall of mouth-watering goodness hit me.

The aromatic scent of food filled my nostrils. What a heavenly way to wake up.

I shoved off the covers, ran a hand through my still-damp hair, and walked into the hallway. The sound of Vicki’s giggling and a man’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
Tyler
. By now, I could recognize his voice anywhere.

I rushed back into the bathroom. He couldn’t see me like this, all ghetto with bed breath. A thought occurred to me after I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and combed my hair. With fingers firm on foundation, something I rarely used because laziness didn’t call for makeup, I paused.

“What are you doing?” I hissed at my reflection. “Do you care what he thinks? You don’t want him to think you’re pretty so he’ll keep coming around.”

I shook my head at the absurdity and pensively strolled through the hallway and rounded the corner. Yes, I could’ve stayed in my room, but I had to see him. Just for a tiny second.

Tyler sat on a stool across from the kitchen and leaned over the counter as Vicki pulled a casserole from the oven.

“I bet it tastes as good as it smells. You must be an amazing cook.”

She giggled.

I rolled my eyes and paused in the hallway entrance.

Tyler noticed me. A gorgeous smile spread across his lips. “Pree!”

“Don’t call me that.”

Vicki leaned around the corner. She arched her brows in warning and cocked her head.

Okay. I saw him. I could leave now. I turned to retreat to my room when Tyler asked, “Don’t you want to stay for dinner?”

“Dinner? What time is it?”

“Four.”

Oh, early dinner. “I have work to do.”

“Here, take a plate.” Vicki practically shoved a plate full of casserole and salad at me. I took it but returned to my room.

In bed, I ate the entire mouth-watering portion in ten minutes and drank the rest of my water from this morning’s gym excursion.

The laptop warmed the blankets on my lap. The position hurt my back, but no way was I going to interrupt Vicki’s love fest by going to my usual spot at the dining room table. Of course, when my legs fell asleep half an hour later and straightening my back felt like someone was clawing my spine out, I’d had enough.

With a grumble, I closed the laptop, yanked the cord from the outlet, and walked to the dining room. Vicki and Tyler laughed at the counter, empty plates in front of them and half-empty wine glasses in their hands.

Vicki had her back turned to me, but Tyler looked past her and winked. He raised a glass. “Want to join us now?”
Why did he have to have such a deep, sexy voice?

I sat at the table and continued to work without a word, though I couldn’t help but catch bits and pieces of the conversation.

Vicki, trying too hard to flirt, told Tyler about her job as a pharmacist and her entire life. Tyler in turn mainly discussed his music, since that was what Vicki kept asking about.

“Do you have a roommate?” she asked.

“No. Just me.”

How could he afford a two-bedroom apartment in this part of town on a musician’s salary? Maybe he had another job, like bartending. He looked like a bartender. I wanted to ask but refrained.

I finished working before six. I didn’t want to be in the conversation but at the same time, I didn’t want to leave, so I played solitaire and checked email. By six thirty, the conversation simmered and died.

Tyler watched me. The first time I caught him, we skipped down the road of staring contests. Having those intense eyes bore into my soul shook the foundation of my dislike for him. I wavered and backed off first.

His look was far from intrusive or creepy as it could be. Rather, he had an expression of determination with a hint of easy, laid-back sociability. And to my dismay, I liked it.

I slumped in the chair and concentrated on solitaire as if it were the most grueling, mind-boggling patient case ever.

“What are you studying over there?” Tyler asked as Vicki put away the leftovers and washed dishes.

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