Tarun grabbed a rental helmet. “Your perspective changes when you meet the one.”
Jay’s mother had thought she’d met her “one” at the age of sixteen and look how that had turned out. His dad—an exchange student—had returned to England a few months after Jay was born, and his mom’s strict Indian parents had disowned her, leaving her penniless and alone with a newborn baby. If he did marry—which was doubtful given the all-consuming nature of his work—it would be after he had taken his company to the top. His future wife—classy, sophisticated, and elegant—would be a reflection of that success.
A shout echoed across the field. Moments later, a woman in a ridiculous froth of pink ruffles came racing toward them, long tanned legs moving so fast her sneakers barely touched the ground. “I’m heeeeere!”
Jay grabbed Tarun and yanked him out of the way. Without even an acknowledgment of the near miss, she barreled past them and into the weapons shed, pulling up inches short of hitting Pete in a full-on body slam.
“That’s my cousin Zara Patel,” Tarun said, following his gaze. “She introduced me to Maria. Life is never dull when she’s around.”
“Indeed.” With her dark hair in a messy tangle down her back, breasts straining against the tight bodice of her stained dress, Tarun’s cousin was everything Jay avoided in a woman—loud, unruly, wild, and totally out of control.
He helped Tarun choose his gear and suit up for the game. They had just pulled on their helmets when the bachelorette party walked past them on their way to the field. Jay sucked in a sharp breath when he saw Zara’s weapon.
“Did Pete seriously give your cousin his Tiberius Arms T9.1 Elite?” With a weapon as close to an actual rifle as a paintball gun could get, even an unskilled player could be a formidable opponent. “He wouldn’t even let me handle it.”
“I’m the groom and he wouldn’t let me handle it, either,” Tarun grumbled.
Zara pointed her gun at the nearest hay bale and pulled the trigger, missing her target by a good two feet.
“What a waste of a good weapon,” Jay muttered under his breath. “Please tell me she’s on your team.”
“Sorry, dude.” Tarun clapped his hand on Jay’s shoulder. “She’s all yours.”
? 2 ?
“I’ve got the feel of it now. I’m ready to kick some blue team ass.” Zara jogged back to her team, joining Parvati and a handful of women wearing various shades of bridesmaid pastel. The remaining members of her red team—all wearing army fatigues, their faces hidden in protective helmets—were practicing on the other side of the range.
“I had a good look at the dudes before they put on their face shields,” Parvati said. “Three of them have beards. Two are under five feet eight. One has long hair. That leaves four maybes and six solid contenders, one of whom has been keeping to the shadows under the tree.” She raised her hand. “I call the hipster with the hair.”
“I thought Stacy didn’t want us trolling for hookups.”
“She might as well ask me not to breathe.” Parvati gave a dismissive snort. “Look where we are. It’s alpha central. I’m not going home alone tonight.”
“Don’t you get enough at the hospital?” Zara protested. “Every day you text me about some intern you’ve dragged into the break room for a little ‘R and R.’ It’s very inconsiderate. Who do I have at work for an afternoon quickie? A partner who wears Yoda ski hats and carries a custom lightsaber? Another partner who wears bike shorts and Rollerblades around the office? A delusional investigator who pretends he was in the CIA? Or Mole Boy, who only ever leaves his cubicle in the dark of night?”
Parvati shrugged. “You chose to work there.”
“It wasn’t really a choice. I was desperate. No one else would hire me.” After dozens of rejections and an offer from her mother’s friend that she was loath to accept, she’d almost given up any hope of finding a firm where she truly belonged until she’d seen an opening for a personal injury lawyer at a small boutique firm. Tony Cruz and Lewis Lovitt didn’t care that she’d been let go from two big-city law firms. They were looking for associates who didn’t fit the traditional mold, people who could think outside the box and were willing to take risks. By the end of the interview, she knew she’d found her place.
“How about I just check the hipster out for you?” Parvati said. “That’s what good friends do.”