Page 27 of Knot So Romantic

“Poor guy! Didn’t know when to stop, did he?”

I groan. “You have no idea. That guy could probably bore a statue.”

Neel chuckles. “Though it was somewhat amusing to watch you hop from foot to foot as he went on.”

I swat his arm in mock indignation. “Gee, thanks. Nice of you to enjoy my misery.”

His eyes shine with mirth. “I think we should get out of here so you can eat in peace.”

I smile. “Yes, please!”

My breath quickens as he clasps my hand and guides me through the crowd, clearing the way around us. Suddenly, I spot my mother on the other side, but she doesn’t see me. I squeeze his hand. “Oh no, not that way, please.”

“Got it,” he laughs, squeezing my hand back. “Where would you like to go?”

I turn the other way when my gaze falls on a guy making ice lollies from freshly crushed ice, and suddenly my mouth waters. “Want a gola?”

His eyes follow mine and he hesitates a little before saying, “I’d love one.”

We laugh as we walk over to the gola stand, the playful glint in his eyes making my heart flutter. I guess this is Neel’s new, more relaxed side. It’s refreshing to see him loosening up around me.

After the spicy samosas, the sweet syrup-dripping gola seems perfect. The stand is busy, with customers surrounding the vendor, clamoring for their golas. We end up grabbing two, mine generously drizzled with mango syrup and his with blackcurrant flavor. It’s so cheap that when Neel tries to pay with his credit card, I laugh and pull out cash from my waist pouch. “They don’t take cards at places like this,” I tell him. The gola guy looks relieved and takes the cash gratefully.

As we’re slurping our golas, Neel says, “These take me back to my childhood. Simple pleasures like these were the best growing up.”

“I dreamed of owning my own gola stand when I was in school. I kid you not!”

Neel laughs. “Well, I think I might have had slightly bigger ambitions than that.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Neel grins. “Becoming a famous cricketer or a Masterchef. Though I had no time to cook or play, so there was no chance of success at either.”

I can’t imagine him cooking up a mean curry or holding a bat and running around a field, but there’s that playfulness about him as he contemplates the choices and then says, pointing to the crowd gathered at the stand, “Though, running a successful gola stand doesn’t sound half bad!”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Might have made a decent income if the boutique business didn’t work out for me.”

His eyes twinkle. “Who knows? Running a gola stand might have kept you busier than you are!”

“And yet, totally unsatisfied,” I chuckle.

We’re still joking, and I relish the last few slurps of my gola when Neel touches my elbow. “You’ve got some syrup on your—”

“Hmm? Where?”

His gaze drops to the side of my lips, then lifts to meet my eyes. I gulp the ice that’s in my mouth. For a moment, neither of us moves. The air seems to go still, all the noise fading into the background.

“Kavita, here you are eating gola!” a loud voice breaks into the silence.

I startle at my mother’s voice, and the gola slips out of my hand, hitting the floor. The last bits of remaining ice melt before my eyes. At least it was almost over.

But how did Mom find me again?

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Mom says. “This is Rini. Her son works in Australia.”

I smile at her friend, Rini and her son. Gosh, this is really becoming too much. “And this is Neel,” I tell the three people staring at Neel, who’s still holding onto my elbow.

He lets go of my elbow and smiles at the new audience.