“I can understand that. It’s a shame for Anil, though. It would be a major boon to this foundation to get someone of Jana’s caliber.”

Jeepers Carmichael, were they talking about Jana again? Kamila had tried—and succeeded for the most part—to put Jana Suleiman out of her head this week. Clearly, almost burning down her house was proof that letting that woman into her mind wasn’t healthy for her, or for her kitchen. But of course, someone had to bring up that name again. “What are you talking about?”

Dad smiled. “Anil’s nonprofit start-up that Rohan is volunteering on…Jana was supposed to be involved.”

Kamila frowned. If Jana was due back soon, why wasn’t she doing this thing? Not that Kamila wanted Jana working with Rohan, though.

Rohan swiped a pakora from the platter Kamila had painstakingly arranged. “It would have been a good role for her. This kind of nonprofit work is exactly her area of expertise and talent.” He popped the pakora into his mouth. “Where are these from? Don’t tell me you cooked, Kam.”

“Hakka Empire.” Irritated, she took a pakora out of the box to replace the one on the tray. She smiled at Dad. “It’s too bad you’re missing the movie tonight. We’re watching a rom-com with Shahid Kapoor.”

Dad pulled out his dress shoes from the closet. “You don’t need an old man here. You young people enjoy yourself.”

“But we have an old man. Rohan is always here.” She patted his arm again. Wow. All that rock climbing was paying off.

“Shahid Kapoor…Isn’t he the one you call Hottie Pants?” Dad asked.

Rohan snorted. “Ranveer Singh is Hottie McHottie Pants. Shahid Kapoor is Honey Bunches of Oats, because, and I’m quoting here, ‘he’s both delicious and wholesome.’”

Dad slipped on his shoes, laughing. “Okay, I’m really leaving now. Have a good night, kids.”

Once Dad left, Kamila glared at Rohan. “You shouldn’t talk about me drooling over leading men,” she said. “I swear you only watch these movies for the actresses. Your jaw drops the moment a wet sari plasters itself to a cropped sari blouse.” Kamila paused, assessing the amount of pakoras on the platter.

“I’m not going to deny I like to look at attractive women.”

“Why are you here so early, anyway?”

“I was meeting someone in the area and I thought you might need help setting up. And…” He picked up Darcy.

“And what?”

He nuzzled his face in Darcy’s fur. “I had a bad day. Wanted to see if you could make it better.” He lifted his head toward the ceiling and inhaled. “It still smells like burnt sweet potatoes in here.”

She sighed and filled up her aroma diffuser with lavender essential oil.

“Trouble on Bay Street?” Kamila asked as she plugged the unit in.

“Nah. How’s your finger?”