Not to be outdone, Stacy grimaced. “What’s on your arm?”
“I met Chad Wandsworth at the ice cream shop when I was picking up the cake . . .” She paused, waiting for the information to sink in. Timing was everything both onstage and in court. “He autographed me.”
“Well.” Stacy huffed. “It’s a good thing you’re not a bridesmaid. You’d have to wash it off.”
Zara mentally marked Stacy as her first target once she got the paintball gun in her hand. “This autograph is forever. I’ll be going strapless at the wedding reception so everyone can see it.”
“Say good-bye to your chance of meeting someone.” A woman in a formfitting strapless green dress with a delicate chiffon skirt and nary a frill or puffed sleeve in sight gave her a tight smile. With big blue eyes, her blond hair pulled up in a perfect bun, she looked like a fairy, all ready to flutter her way into somebody’s heart. “No guy will want to compete with Chad Wandsworth.”
“Maybe not, but our aunties will be there.” Parvati sipped her wine, smiling as if the vile liquid hadn’t just scorched its way down her throat. “Nothing can put them off pairing up all the young South Asian singles at a wedding. They have a competition every wedding season to see who can make the most matches. The only way to escape is to secure a quick hookup at the singles table or show up with a plus-one.”
“You make it sound like it’s easy to find someone.” Stacy expertly sliced the slightly melted cake into even pieces. “I mean, really . . .”
“When you’ve got five hundred or a thousand guests it’s easy to find someone—or even a dozen someones—you’ve never met before.” Zara finished her wine and followed it with a spring roll chaser. “Multiply that by at least five or six weddings during the summer season plus the same number of prewedding parties. Add the lovey-dovey atmosphere of single people all dressed up and eager to get out there and have some hot sex, and the hookup possibilities are endless.”
Zara instantly regretted her outburst, but Stacy had a way of getting under her skin. She reminded Zara of her mother.
“Well . . .” Stacy cleared her throat. “I would think most brides and grooms would be upset at the thought of people trolling their wedding for a hookup.”
“I’m not talking about me,” Zara protested. “I enjoy weddings for the opportunity to match people up. It’s just a hobby. I don’t get involved in the auntie competition.”
“Zara is an excellent matchmaker.” Maria beamed. “She set up Tarun and me.”
“If you’re so good, why are you still single?” Stacy shared a snide look with the woman in green.
Zara opened the spigot to pour herself another glass of wine. “I’m not interested in getting involved in a relationship.” Her parents’ devastating divorce had taken care of that. One minute she was part of a happy family; the next her world was ripped apart.
Stacy handed her a slice of cake. “That’s what people say when they can’t find a man.”
“I can find men,” Zara said. “I just don’t need one forever.”
* * *
• • •
Jay Dayal checked his paintball gun and slid it safely into the holster on his tactical vest. Although he’d left his career as a combat search-and-rescue pilot flying helicopters for the air force almost ten years ago, old habits died hard. A holstered weapon was a safe weapon. But once the game began, the blue team would be going down in flames. Whether he was in a boardroom pitching for funding to expand his security company, shooting hoops with his friends, or taking down enemy combatants in a bachelor-bachelorette paintball game, Jay played to win.
“I’ve split Maria’s friends between our two teams.” Tarun joined him at the weapons shed where Paintball Pete was explaining gun safety to three women in frilly dresses and heels. Along with Avi Kapoor and Rishi Dev, Tarun had been one of Jay’s closest high school friends, as dedicated to his goal of becoming a doctor as Jay had been to pulling himself out of poverty and making a success of his life. They had lost touch after high school when they went their separate ways, but a fellowship opportunity and a new fiancée had brought Tarun back to San Francisco, and they had reconnected, as tight now as they had been fifteen years ago.
“Why not just put them all on one team and we can be on the other?” Jay suggested. “They’re just going to slow us down in those clothes.” He gave a disdainful sniff when a woman in a barely-there green dress tiptoed across the field, struggling to keep her heels from sinking into the grass. A season pass holder, he visited the park at least twice a month with his business partner, Elias, and had little time for people who didn’t take the game seriously.
“It wouldn’t be fair,” Tarun said. “We’d destroy the other team in five minutes.”
Jay suspected that first-time paintballer Tarun would have little part in crushing their opponents, but it was Tarun’s day so he just nodded in agreement.
“I know that look,” Tarun said with a grin. “Just for that I’m putting Avi and Rishi on my team. You can have a few extra newbs to even things out.”
“Tell them not to get in my way. I’m here to win.” Jay patted his holster. This season, he’d splurged for the Planet Eclipse CS2 Pro paintball marker, a Ninja compressed-air tank, a Spire III hopper, and a strapless harness pod pack. His mask had a reflecting DYEtanium lens that shielded him from UV rays and completely hid his face. He preferred anonymity on the field. Better the other team didn’t know who hit them.
“I’m here to make sure Maria has a good time,” Tarun said. “Go easy on her if you see her in the field. She’s here for the game, not your Mission: Impossible level of intensity. If you had a girl of your own you’d understand.”
“Not interested in getting tied down right now.” Jay tightened his harness. “Work takes up all my time, and then you, Rishi, and Avi all decided to get married this summer. You couldn’t have given a dude a break? Maybe spaced things out?”
“It should have been four weddings,” Tarun teased. “We always did things together.”
“Are you kidding?” Jay had always put work over relationships, and his eight years of service in the air force had been the perfect excuse to avoid getting involved. When he’d transitioned to civilian life and opened his security company with Elias, he’d put his drive and focus into making J-Tech Security a success. Achievement was his top priority. Everything else was a distraction.
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.