There you go again, Eliza, stereotyping him because of the way he looks.
Not fair. You hate when people do that to you.
“Well…what is it?” His eyes scan the tabletop, first landing on my sketch pad, then my computer, then my omelet.
He couldn’t be more obvious.
“Also, just gimme some eggs, would you, love?”
“Bossy bossy.”
Still, he’s being bossy with a smile on his face—a charming smile that does something to my insides. The same something that worked its magic on Kaylee’s insides, I’m sure, and the hearts of every other female he comes across.
Jack Dryden-Jones is like nothing I’ve ever seen before, or met. He’s like a storybook character come to life.
He joins me in eating the eggs off of my plate, and I have to remind him a few times not to hog each and every morsel; his fork is a tiny shovel, and he’s taking way more than is fair.
If I let him keep eating it, there will be nothing left and I’ll have to order a third item off the darn menu.
This random pop-in at the coffee shop is costing me a fortune. Why doesn’t he order himself something? The cheapskate.
Something beeps, and he looks down at his wrist.
“It’s my mum. Do you mind if I give her a ring?”
“No. Of course not.”
That will give me the opportunity to get a little bit of work done, even if the phone call with his mother is only a few minutes. Anything to distract him so I can actually do what I came here to do.
Jack picks up his phone as I open my laptop again.
Swipes at the keypad then holds it up to his mouth. Waits while it rings.
“Hey Mum, it’s me, Jack.” He smiles as she says something back, turning a bit red. “Yes, I know you have caller ID.” Jack rolls his eyes. “Oh, Ashley and Georgia are there having dinner? That sounds nice—what are you serving?” He’s quiet for a few moments, and instead of working and minding my own business, I stop to listen.
Shame on me, I know.
But…
That accent.
And he sounds so cute talking to his mom.
“You’re doing Sunday roast on a Saturday? Why?” Pause. “Oh, I guess that makes sense—when is the party then?”
I immediately want to know what party he is talking about, but I dip my head and hide behind my monitor so he doesn’t notice me outwardly eavesdropping.
Shame, shame, shame.
“Yes, it’s going smashing. Love it.” I catch him rolling his eyes, so he must be talking about rugby and caught in a lie.
Our eyes meet, and he raises a finger to his lips as if to say, Shh, don’t tell…
Your secret is safe with me.
“How has Dad managed at the office without me? And Ashley, are they getting along?” There’s a long stretch of silence as his mother answers his questions, and his mouth is set into a pleasant line as he listens patiently. His head nods along every so often, and I’m impressed that he’s actively listening. “Bet they’re both missing me funning in their business.” He laughs then clears his throat. “I was kidding, Mum.” He raises his eyes again and looks straight at me. “No, I’ve not been on any dates.”
Is it my imagination or is he blushing?
“It’s not as easy as you think.” Pause. “No, I don’t miss Caroline. Could you please not mention her name?”
Jack rolls his eyes toward the ceiling.
Caroline?
This piques my interest, and I sit up straighter in my seat, leaning into the conversation in front of me. Caroline? Must be an ex-girlfriend. I have so many questions now but will bite my tongue—it is none of my business.
Scenarios begin forming in my mind about this mystery Caroline. I imagine she is a tall, statuesque model type. Probably blue blooded, probably with impeccable manners.
Sweet.
Utterly devoted, and crying off in some corner at her country estate in the middle of Great Britain, pining for Jack Dryden-Jones. Probably attends tennis matches at Wimbledon and horse races at Ascot.
High tea lover, obviously, but probably never eats the tiny cakes…unlike myself when cake is set in front of me.
I imagine this girlfriend of his is eye candy. A socialite.
Probably has her own hyphenated last name.
And clearly his family likes her enough to inquire, or at least they like her enough to ask how he is doing without her.
What am I saying? Why am I assuming they’re broken up? What if he has a girlfriend back home in England, and he is playing the field in America? Sowing his oats. Taking out girls like Kaylee and then lying about his relationship status.
It would be so easy to do from a world away.
Let’s be real, Eliza. He didn’t actually do anything wrong last night. The guy watched a show with you and then left.
If he was shady, he would have accepted Kaylee’s invitation to stay and…