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.
“Fine,” he huffs, turning in his seat to look at her. “But I have to ask because you don’t tell me anything—like the fact that you met Leandro Silva last night.”
“I’ve hardly had the chance,” she responds, sounding exasperated. “You were sleeping when I got home.”
“You couldn’t have told me at breakfast?”
I’m watching them with fascination. India is always so calm and in control in our sessions, but right now, she’s at the mercy of her twelve-year-old kid, who’s close to breaking her in front of my eyes.
I’m tempted to ask him his secret on how to do it.
“Okay!” She throws her hands up in the air. “Fine. I’m sorry, Jett. I could have told you this morning.”
“Notice that she said could, not should,” he says to me, grinning.
He clearly loves winding her up.
India makes a frustrated sound before picking up her coffee, and she blows on it, like she always does before taking a sip.
“I’m just teasing, Mum.” He nudges her shoulder with his.
“You were driving me nuts is what you were doing.” She chuckles good-naturedly.
“So”—Jett turns his full attention back to me—“you bought Mum coffee at dinner?”
“What?”
“You met at dinner last night, but you said you knew how she took her coffee ’cause you’d gotten it once for her.”
Shit.
This kid is way too observant. He doesn’t miss a trick. I’d be impressed—if it wasn’t me he was currently putting on the spot.
“After dinner,” India chimes in. “There was no coffee at the restaurant, so we all went to a coffee shop, and Leandro bought my coffee.”
“Why didn’t Dr. Dull get you the coffee?”
I almost choke on my own coffee. Dr. Dull? I knew I liked this kid.
“Jett! I really wish you wouldn’t call him that. I swear to God, Kit…” she mutters.
Who’s Kit?
Jett must read my mind because he says, “Kit’s my uncle, Mum’s twin brother. He calls Dan, Dr. Dull, and Mum hates it.”
“I can see why.”
And I mean her brother naming Dan, Dr. Dull. It couldn’t be more fitting.
I think I’m going to like her brother as well.
India’s eyes hit mine, her brows rising, and I don’t elaborate on my meaning of what I just said.
“So, you like racing?” I say to Jett, turning my attention to him.
“I love it.”
“Just Formula One or any kind of racing?”
“Formula One mainly, but I like karting, too.”
“Have you ever been to the Prix?”
“No.” He gives a sad shake of his head. “Mum says the tickets are too expensive.”
“They are too expensive.” I smile lightly, sliding my eyes to hers, and I catch her looking at me with a weird expression on her face.
“Well, I can get you tickets to the Prix at Silverstone—”
“Yes!” He excitedly bangs his hands on the table.
“But only if it’s okay with your mother.”
Turning to India, he gives her an expectant look.
She lets out a breath. “It’s okay with me.” She raises her hands in defeat, but she has a smile on her face.
I like seeing her smile, and making her son happy has to score me some brownie points. Then, an idea comes to me.
“I was just thinking…as the Prix is a long ways off—and again, only as long as your mom is okay with it—I’m attending a Karting Championship tomorrow. I have to present an award, a favor for a friend. You’re both more than welcome to come along.”