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The building is as warm and friendly as Jaron’s home. The air is thick and spicy, and the lighting is soft and romantic. Jaron immediately brings me over to a table set for two. It’s adorned with a lacey tablecloth, two long white candles, and a beautiful flower arrangement in the center.
“These are for show,” Jaron says, handing me a menu. “My aunts are helping in the kitchen tonight and they are basically going to bring you everything. Don’t bother ordering.” His eyes shine with amusement.
I smile and nod. “Got it,” I say. I set the menu back on the table and look over the flowers and into Jaron’s face. My fingers ache to be touching him again.
“I’m excited you brought me here,” I say. “Does this mean I get to meet your dad?”
“He’ll be out here any minute,” Jaron says. “Are you nervous?”
“Should I be?”
I don’t feel nervous until I see him. My stomach jumps and twists as the tall, dark man approaches our table. I was expecting a shorter, smaller man. But as he gets closer, I now understand where Jaron’s broad, muscular build comes from. Those are good genes.
He immediately takes my hand and kisses the top of it. “You must be Emma,” he says. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” His accent is thick and charming.
“Thank you, you too,” I say.
“My name is Ravishankar. But you can call me Ravi.”
“Nice to meet you, Ravi,” I say.
He turns to Jaron and says something in Hindi. His eyebrows are pointed down and he speaks in a gruff voice. Then he smiles at me and returns to the kitchen. I lean forward.
“What did he say?” I whisper.
“He told me you are very beautiful and I better treat you with respect tonight, or he’ll take it out on my hide. More or less.”
I laugh and Jaron smiles.
“I like him.”
Jaron reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I knew you would.”
I turn quickly in my chair when I hear a loud, gaggle of voices emerge from the back room. Four women move quickly toward our table. For a brief moment, I’m afraid we’re going tobe run over in the stampede. But they stop right in front of us and look me up and down, eagerly.
“Jaron, introduce us to your friend,” the oldest one says.
“Yes, Nani,” Jaron says.
“Emma, this is my grandma, my aunt Akhila, my aunt Kashi, and my cousin Rosalie. They all work here.”
“Oh wow,” I say. “This really is a family business. It’s nice to meet you all.”
They smile and chatter and tell me what a great cook Jaron is, and generally do a good job of embarrassing him. His aunts are just as strikingly beautiful as his mom. With long, dark hair and thick eyelashes over coffee-colored eyes.
His cousin, Rosalie, eyes me timidly, but doesn’t contribute much to the conversation. She looks to be around our same age, maybe just a little older. When his aunts slide a couple chairs over to our table and begin asking me questions, that’s when Ravi reappears.
“Get back to work and let Jaron enjoy his date,” he says, shooing them away. “All these people aren’t going to cook for themselves,” he says, indicating the bustling restaurant.
“All right, fine,” Akhila says, replacing her chair at a nearby table.
“It was nice to meet you, Emma” his grandma says.
“Nice work,” Kashi says, giving Jaron a thumbs up.
As soon as they’re gone, Jaron sighs. “Sorry about all that,” he says. “They promised me they wouldn’t bug us if I brought you here. I guess their definition of bug is different than mine.”
I laugh. “They were fine,” I say.
