Page 12 of Yours for the Season
“Did you invite me here to murder me?” she asked, only half joking.
“To cook for you, actually,” he said, lips quirking. “I rent out a commercial kitchen.”
Sameera followed Tom into a large, airy space that contained a massive range, a walk-in freezer, a line of deep sinks, and two of the biggest refrigerators she had ever seen. The place smelled delicious, and she perched on a barstool by the center island.
“I followed the Malik family chai recipe,” he said, handing her a small cup with a frothy, perfectly golden-brown liquid. She sipped cautiously. It was heavenly.
“I hope you like biryani. The Eid party really inspired me to work on my South Asian cooking skills,” Tom said, reaching into a large oven to withdraw a black aluminum roaster.
He lifted the lid, and Sameera inhaled the aroma of saffron and ghee and spices. Her mother had tried to teach her to make biryani,but it never turned out like this, a fragrant mixture of baked marinated meat and delicately seasoned basmati rice.
“If my mom saw this, she would marry us off immediately,” Sameera blurted, instantly regretting her words. She wasn’t here to flirt with Tom. She glanced at her phone—forty-three minutes left on her timer. Her nervousness mounted.
“It’s funny you should say that,” Tom said, and when she looked up at him, she noticed he had a faint flush across his cheekbones.
“Is this ... bribery biryani?” she asked, mock-affronted.
“How long have you been holding on to that zinger?” Tom asked.
“Ever since you told me you made biryani,” Sameera admitted, her light tone masking another spike in anxiety. Seriously, what was she doing flirting with Tom and accepting his excellent food? She had billable hours to make up, and a complicated life to manage. And yet, here she was, on what felt a lot like a first date. The thought made her palms sweat.
Sameera hadn’t been on a first date since law school. After Hunter left, she couldn’t bring herself to “get out there,” as Bee put it (and as her friend had encouraged more than once). It felt too vulnerable, and she wasn’t sure how she could trust anyone—or her own judgment—again.
Once her plate was clean, and there was less than thirty minutes on the timer, she lay her palms flat on the table. “Are you going to tell me the real reason I’m here?”
The flush returned to Tom’s cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his head, a gesture she recognized from when they had hung out at her parents’ home. Why was he nervous?
“I want to start off by saying, I would have asked you to dinner no matter what.”
Something softened at these words, but then her mind caught up with her ears. What did Tom mean by “no matter what”? She nodded at him to continue.
“My agent, Lauren, called me today. I started working with her after my cooking videos went viral last year. She told me I had moreattention from that candid video I shot at your house than any others in the past six months,” Tom said. There was a pleading look in his eyes she didn’t quite understand.
“Do you want to ask my mom if you could use her kitchen again?” Sameera asked. Tahsin would definitely think they were an item if her supposed not-boyfriend wanted to come over again. Another secret, shameful part of her deflated at the request; he wasn’t interested in her after all.
“Nothing like that,” Tom said, reassuring. “I started the online thing as a hobby, mostly. It’s taken off in a way I didn’t anticipate. Half of my gigs are a result of those videos, including the one from your firm. Apparently, the Undertakers’ managing partner is a fan.” He smiled faintly.
Now Sameera was confused. If he didn’t want to use her mother’s kitchen again, what did he want? She had no idea where he was going with this. “Congratulations,” she said, careful to keep her voice neutral.
The red tinge was back on his cheekbones, serving to highlight how defined they were, damn him. “I’m sure you didn’t read the rest of the comments on our video. I know how busy you are with your work.”
Actually, she had read all the comments. She had even creeped on his account following the Eid lunch and watched the video they had shot in Tahsin’s kitchen a dozen times, sometimes focusing on how happy her brother looked, and other times pausing to stare at Tom’s friendly, handsome face.
She had also noted that while Tom posted videos regularly, their video was the first one he had made with a woman. No wonder his followers had inundated him with questions about his personal life. Sameera felt a prickling at the back of her neck.
Tom took a deep breath. “You said you were worried about being shown the door in the new year. That the only thing that could save your job was if you hooked a whale.”
Her heart started beating fast, as if her body knew somehow that something momentous was about to happen. “Is this the part where you reveal that you’re a secret billionaire?” she joked.
Tom threw her a faint smile. “Not me, no. But I could introduce you to my friend Andy Shaikh. I happen to know he’s looking for new legal representation. If I recommend you, he’ll listen.”
Sameera stilled. People like Andy Shaikh were hard to meet. She imagined a lot of people asked Tom to introduce them to his very wealthy friend; her brother had done it just the other day, and had been turned down immediately. Yet here Tom was, dangling his connection to Andy in front of her like bait.
She had googled Andy Shaikh after the Eid party, of course, and now knew more than she wanted about the wealthy tycoon and local legend. She knew from a profile inBusiness Insider, for example, that while Andy was a born-and-raised Atlantan, his father was born in Pakistan, while his mother’s roots were Scottish and English. She also knew that after graduating from Georgia Tech, he had founded a chain of boba and chai tea shops, which had proved to be so wildly popular they were now a feature in every major city across the country. But sweet drinks were just a starting point—Andy had quickly started buying up commercial real estate, dabbling in rezoning construction, and building scalable communities. He was considered a local Muslim success story—the profile had mentioned he accompanied his father to Fridayjumah prayersweekly. If she could convince someone like Andy to hire her firm, her job would be saved for sure. Every lawyer knew there was nothing more enticing than the prospect of an untapped market, which was exactly what Andy Shaikh represented.
If she could just get in front of Andy, if she could pitch him on her firm, there might be a chance ... She narrowed her eyes at Tom. “What do you want in return?”
He took a deep breath. “How would you feel about filming cooking videos with me?”
