“Want a whiskey?”
“No, a martini. I don’t think I’ve ever really tried whiskey. Maybe in college once, but it always smelled too strong for me.” The pained looks of horror that flashed across both Hem’s and Zail’s faces were almost comical.
“What about trying it under the guidance of a whiskey expert?” Hem said. He pressed a hand to his chest. “I can take care of you.”
“I’m sure you can,” she murmured.
His eyes narrowed on hers, and her breath caught at the hunger she saw reflected in them. “Are you asking for something more than whiskey, Mina Kohli?”
I'm starting to get bitter about all the overcooked burgers I've had to endure at my white family gatherings, this is another book where the food talk has me Googling/Yelping. #MangoPickle
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