Page 13 of Saffron and Secrets

“Mm. Yeah, I guess so. I guess I’ll have to trust your word that I'm not crazy, but I'm not sold,” I say teasingly, my mouth twisted with an easy smile.

We arrive at the busy café. The sun is shining bright today, so the outside dining area is filled with people. We find a free table nestled in the corner and take a seat. The waitress comes to take our order. I peer over at John. He smiles at me letting me go first.

“Just a cappuccino for me, please,” I say.

Maybe I should have ordered a decaf. The caffeine is probably not going to help me rein in my racing pulse.

My gaze moves to him.

“A long black, thanks,” he says.

“Any sugar or cream in either of them?” she asks.

We both decline.

When she's out of earshot, we sit there with wide grins on our face.

Now I get to ask him whatever I want. I rub my hands together and think for a moment. When something pops in my mind, I lean on the table with my elbows to focus on him and ask, “What do you do for work that makes you have a Friday off?”

His mouth twitches, and he leans in closer. “I'm a driver.”

A driver? Really? He doesn't seem like a driver.

But what do I know?

I really wasn’t expecting it, but now I have lots of questions. “Who do you drive for? Do I know them? Are they famous or something?”

He laughs, tipping his head back, showing me his sexy throat, and I can’t help but notice a mole on the side of his neck near his right ear. Is it a birthmark?

“No. He's not famous. But he’s still cool. He's actually a friend.” His words cut through my inspection, and I drag my gaze back to his. He’s staring at me with a curious expression.

I look down and suck in a breath before looking up to speak. “Oh, yeah?” I eagerly say, wanting him to tell me more.

He reclines back and runs his hand through his hair before dropping it into his lap.

“We grew up together. His name is James White. He’s a real estate property developer. And he owns a building called White Estate.”

“Wow, that's impressive.”

He nods. “Yeah, he's a good guy. And it's easy. I can't complain.”

“Well, that's good, I guess. Is that…all you do?” I try to say it kindly, but it’s hard to imagine him only driving a CEO around.

“No,” he says, but I don’t miss the flicker of an expression I can't decipher.

Like a painful one.

He runs his hand through his hair before leaning on the table to speak. “Well, I used to be in IT. Like a family business thing. But I needed to get out.”

Seeing the look on his face tells me I don't want to push because it seems like a difficult topic for him. He’s opened up enough already.

He changes the subject by asking, “And what do you do that lets you have every Friday off?”

He wiggles his brows at me, wearing a cheeky smirk.

“I’m a social worker,” I say proudly, knowing how much I love my job.

“Wow.” His jaw slackens. “It's not surprising, though.”

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