Kamila bent to rub Potato’s belly. She just couldn’t keep her hands off him. “Yeah, maybe. What kind of family drinks bubbly when they talk about estate planning?”

Asha laughed. “The Hussains never do anything without style.” She checked her watch. “I need to run, too—I have to pick up Nicole. Her car’s in the shop.”

Kamila’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She checked it—it was a funny meme about nonprofits from Anil. She laughed and showed it to Asha.

“That’s hilarious. Anil sends you memes?”

Kamila smiled. “Yeah, he’s great. We’re thinking of taking a drive to that gallery up north next week. You know, the one with—”

Asha’s phone sounded loudly with a text. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the message. “Nicole wants me to pick up dinner, too. Talk soon?”

“No worries, Asha. Later.”

Like a dutiful daughter, Kamila picked up a bottle of prosecco on her way home, even though she didn’t want to have whatever this conversation was going to be. She also grabbed a bottle of red wine, in case she needed to keep drinking after their “talk.” And a bottle of craft beer aged in bourbon barrels that she knew Rohan liked.

There was loud music playing when she got home—looked like Dad had pulled out his old qawwali CDs. Either that or Rohan finally was able to show him how music streaming worked. Rohan was at the table with his back to her, tossing a salad in her big wooden bowl. He didn’t notice her come in, so she picked up Darcy and watched him for a moment.

He’d clearly been wearing a jacket and had taken it off. Probably came straight from work. Unfortunately, his shirtsleeves were rolled up again, showing off his forearms. Those things were a danger to humanity. The way he was leaned over the table meant she could also see solid thighs and a very cute bum, too. Rohan was so…nice to look at. His face was even nicer. She honestly didn’t think she’d ever met anyone she liked looking at as much as him.

This was ridiculous. Kamila didn’t understand where this physical attraction came from. She’d been fine the handful of other times she’d seen him since that evening at the dog park. Kamila blamed the forearms. When those things were on full display, the effects were near lethal.

He shifted, putting the salad servers on either side of the bowl, and Kamila was overcome with an undeniable urge to walk up behind him and put her arms around his waist. What would he feel like? Warm. Would she feel muscles through the thin cotton of his shirt? Would it feel as cozy as falling asleep on him?

Kamila literally had to clutch Darcy to her chest to prevent herself from embracing Rohan. What was wrong with her?