“It’s okay.” I smile at him again.
I glance back to India. She’s chewing on her lip, looking a little more than disconcerted.
Yes, it turns me on. Her lip-chewing and nervousness are doing it for me. But then again, pretty much everything she does turns me on.
We’re in this awkward pause where none of us knows quite exactly what to say. Jett is staring at me in awe, and his mouth keeps opening and closing like he has a hundred questions to ask but no clue where to start.
I decide to fill the gap.
“Did you take the Tube?” That is clearly the dumbest thing I could ask, considering they were exiting the station.
Smooth, Silva, real smooth.
A smile spreads onto India’s face. “My car is in the garage,” she tells me. “So, we’re slaves to public transport.”
Another awkward pause.
Putting her hand on Jett’s arm, she says, “Well, we should get going—”
“No!” Jett says loudly. His face instantly goes bright red. “I mean, we’re going for coffee. Well, I’m having hot chocolate ’cause I’m clearly too young for coffee. But do you want to come with us and have coffee? Or tea? Hot chocolate? Whatever you drink really…” He trails off, looking uncomfortable.
Chuckling, I part my lips to speak, but I don’t get a chance.
“I’m sure Leandro has better things to do than have coffee with us, Jett.”
Do I?
I glance at her. There’s something in her eyes that I can’t quite discern, but it looks an awful lot like uncertainty.
I look back to Jett and smile. “Actually, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now.”
Okay, I’m turning the charm on, but I do actually mean that. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than with her. And meeting her kid is an added bonus.
I slide my eyes back to India, locking them with hers. “I’d love to have coffee with you.”
A smile warms her eyes.
“We were just going to Starbucks. Is that okay with you?”
Anywhere with you, is okay with me. “Perfect.”
I walk with them toward Starbucks. India begins walking in front of us while Jett is talking incessantly to me about my past races. I listen to him talk, answer his questions, and force myself not to stare at India’s magnificent ass in those tight jeans. Seems like it’d be disrespectful to ogle her in front of her kid.
Stepping in front when we reach Starbucks, I open the door for her.
“Thanks.” She doesn’t meet my eyes when she speaks, but I see the flush on her face.
Jett walks through, still talking to me about racing, and I follow him in.
“You two take a seat. I’ll go get the drinks,” I tell them. “Hot chocolate for you, Jett?” I check. “And a black coffee for you, India?”
“You know how my mum takes her coffee?” Jett’s voice punches through the air.
And I see the smile on India’s face freeze.
When I look at Jett, I see he’s got a big-ass grin on his face.
Kid is quick.
But I’m quicker.
“I brought her coffee once. It stuck with me. I have a great memory.” I tap a finger to my head. “You want anything to go with that hot chocolate?”
Glancing past me at the food on display, he says, “A blueberry muffin would be great, please.”
“We’ll go find somewhere to sit,” India says, still looking a little flustered.
I join the small queue, watching when they take a seat at the back of the coffee shop.
I place the order, getting myself a black coffee, and try to ignore the stare from the server, hoping she doesn’t recognize me.
I manage to get my order without issue, and I carry everything over to the table. Putting the tray down, I hand Jett his drink and muffin.
“Thanks,” he mumbles. Instantly, he takes a bite of muffin.
“Thank you.” India smiles at me as I put her coffee on the table in front of her.
She wraps her hands around the cup, like she needs the warmth.
“So, Mum says she met you at dinner last night. You were there with a patient of hers who is a friend of yours.”
I slide my eyes to India before looking back to Jett. I nod and say, “I was.”
“Is it another Formula One driver?”
“Jett!” she chastises lightly in only that way a mother can.
I laugh at his directness.
“Stop prying,” she says to him.
“You don’t ask, you don’t find out.” He shrugs, taking another bite of his muffin.
“Jett has got a point,” I say, which earns me a frown from India, causing me to chuckle. “And it would be wrong of me to talk about it as it’s my friend’s private business,” I tell Jett. “But to answer your question, no, she is not a driver.”
“She? Someone you’re dating then?”
“Jett!” India’s voice is louder now, and she’s red in the face.
It makes me laugh again. I love to see her flustered.
“I’m so sorry,” India says to me. “He’s not usually this nosy.”
“Yes, I am,” Jett replies.
India shoots a look at him.
I’m still laughing.
I like this kid.
“No, I’m not dating her. She’s married to my friend,” I answer.
“And that’s enough of those questions,” India cuts him off when he opens his mouth again.