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“This is the place.” Kat smiled, pointing at the heavily decorated windows and I snorted.
“Nice.”
“Is something wrong with it?”
“No, it’s just the name. Bagha, that’s ‘tiger’ in Bengali.”
Both humans started to laugh.
“No shit?” Kat narrowed her eyes first at the sign above the door then at me.
“Yeah.”
“Well, they’re probably going to be excited to have you, then.” Kat led the way across the street and into the restaurant.
A tiny Bangalee in a buttoned shirt appeared as if out of thin air. He welcomed Kat enthusiastically, then his eyes fell on Declan and lastly on me. I greeted him formally, putting my hands together and bowing over them. His face broke into a wide smile, and I felt a rush of homesickness for my mum and our family. I hadn’t been to see her half as often as I should have. Abbie had hated visiting my family, and my mother and Lewis had been cordial but not her biggest fans.
The man introduced himself as Sharmin and chatted away happily in Bangla as he took us to his best table and brought us the first round of ghol, spice-infused buttermilk.
I saw Kat watch me interact with the owner of the restaurant quite intently. Did she think I was a show off for chatting to the man in my mother tongue? I barely got a chance to speak it. Ignoring the menu on the table, she then rubbed her hands together and leaned forward in her seat. I shouldn’t have noticed the flash of heat in her dark eyes, nor the way her ridiculously adorable dog shirt tightened around her breasts as she did, and definitely not let my eyes hang on her glistening lips. Lips I was dying to kiss again.
“Would you order for me, Roy? I always order the same thing and I have a feeling I’ve been missing out on their best food.” Her voice was husky, and she cleared her throat, sounding a little flustered.
I wasn’t sure if I should have felt sorry or grand that I made her nervous. Deciding on a mild case of grandeur, I contemplated her over my mug of ghol.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Kat.” Declan saluted her with his intricate bronze cup, his entire upper body bouncing to the beat of the modern Bengali songs blasting from speakers in all four corners. “Why is Indian music so catchy?” he asked, blushing violently when I raised an eyebrow. He stopped bouncing immediately, looking adorably flustered.
I chose a selection of beef, fish, and mutton dishes, fried veggies, and their homemade chutney, which I knew would be amazing, and whatever Sharmin recommended.
Half an hour later, our table was groaning under all the plates and platters.
“Oh my God, this all looks so good, I have no idea where to start.”
The animal side of me basked in her praise. I’d done well for the female. I’d given her pleasure and I was providing feed for her. I was proud of myself, something I hadn’t felt in years.
“Walk us through, boss?” Rubbing his hands together, Declan gave me one of his wide grins.
It had been the main reason why I hired him a year ago.
The idea of starting every day with being greeted by that kind smile had been balm for my hurting soul. I had not regretted it, not for a moment.
Pointing at each of the dishes in turn, I explained what they were and how spicy it was. They were brave, trying a bit of everything, even the mutton biryani that I’d ordered mainly for myself, asking Sharmin to make it our kind of spicy. Half Scottish I might be, but I’d grown up with food none of my classmates had ever been able to stomach. Ollie, my brother’s best friend, had once tried our mum’s cooking. He’d wheezed dramatically, had downed three lassi, and eaten half a loaf of bread. Lew and I had given him shit for that for years.
I hadn’t seen him in ages, just like everybody else that mattered to me. Noah, his younger brother, lived in Indonesia. Ollie was still there, working for the Lone Fox just like Lew did. My mum, Ollie’s parents... I’d wanted to visit them, I had, but seeing maa’s disappointed face or suffering the blows that inevitably followed had stopped me from going. The past few years it had just been me. And Abbie.
I would have to rebuild the relationships with the people I loved. Like Sadeeq. I owed him everything. Making a mental note to arrange another training session with him soon, I spooned the last of the mutton into my mouth and topped it with a chunk of naan.
“That was the best Indian I had in my life,” Declan sighed, patting his rounded stomach lazily.
“Mh,” Kat muttered noncommittally, “maybe not the best Indian.” Putting a great emphasis on the last three words, she pursed her lips at me.
Holy shit
I might be a little thick and out of practice, but she definitely meant me. My ears burned, not as an after effect of the spicy mutton curry, but thanks to the equally hot woman in her dog shirt. I didn't care much about dogs, I wanted to rip that stupid shirt off her and give her something else to wear—a blissed out smile after I'd licked her, perhaps.
“Would you like dessert?” Sharmin's voice sounded from right next to me and I nearly jumped out of my seat.
“No way.” Dec shookhis head vehemently. “Sorry,” he added, smiling his wide smile at our host.
