“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.”

“Are you serious?” Jett’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“I’m serious.” I smile.

“Mum?” He gives her another expectant look.

Looking at me, she shakes her head, but I know she’s not mad as a smile teases her lips.

“Tomorrow where?” she asks me.

“Shenington Airfield in Banbury. About an hour’s drive away.”

“Can we go? Please! Please!” Jett pleads, his hands pressed together in front of him.

She stares at him for a long moment. I can see her mind working.

“I don’t know, honey. I don’t have my car, and Kit’s working tomorrow, so I can’t borrow his—”

“You don’t need your car. I’ll take you both.”

“You’re driving there?” she asks, her voice careful.

Always the therapist.

“I have a driver taking me. I’m rich and lazy.” I give a laugh, but it sounds weak even to my own ears.

Of course she knows why I’m not driving, but I don’t want to look lame in front of her son.

But then, he’s a Formula 1 fan, so he’s probably heard stories about me.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t drive myself around either,” Jett says, leaning back in his chair. “I’d have a chauffeur and save my driving for the tracks.”

He’s either oblivious or a good kid.

Going by who his mother is, I’m going to go with good kid.

Sitting forward, he wraps his arm around her shoulders. “So, can we go, Mum? Please…”

She looks at me, and I shrug my shoulders, smiling. Leaning back in my chair, I grab my coffee and take a sip.

Releasing her, he says, “You have to say yes as this will be the biggest thing to ever happen to me in my life. And do you know how many levels of cool I’ll climb at school if I say I spent the day with Leandro Silva?”

“Are you sure it’ll be no trouble?” India asks me.

A day spent with you?

“No trouble at all.”

“So, is that a yes?” Jett checks with India.

“It’s a yes.”

“Yes!” He fist-bumps the air before planting a kiss on India’s cheek.

Then, he’s on his phone, probably texting his friends or updating his Facebook status.

I glance at India and find her already watching me.

Thank you, she mouths to me.

It gives me this warm feeling in my chest, like it’s something secret she’s giving just to me.

You’re welcome, I mouth back.

THIS IS A BAD IDEA.

I really shouldn’t be here, but it’s not like I could say no when Leandro Silva, one of Jett’s heroes, was there, offering him tickets to go watch a karting championship race. Jett’s face was all lit up, and I would be Devil Mother if I’d said no, but I would be Mother of the Year if I said yes. Who could turn down the chance to be Mother of the Year, right?

And it’s not like I could explain to Jett that it would be unethical of me to take the tickets and spend the day with Leandro because he’s my patient.

But then, technically, I didn’t take the tickets. Jett did. Leandro gave them to him, and Jett gave the spare ticket to me.

So, that’s my rationalization on the situation, and I’m sticking with it.

How I ended up in the back of the car with Leandro and Jett in the front with the driver and with control of the stereo though is beyond me.

But I really need to put my work head on because Leandro is being even more charming than usual, and he looks so bloody hot in his jeans and black shirt. And those depthless eyes of his every time they meet with mine…I swear, they are sucking me in. And his accent…sweet baby Jesus, his accent. I feel the need to cross my legs every time he speaks in general, but sitting here with him, isolated in the back of this car because Jett put up the bloody privacy glass, without my work head on…it’s not good.

And so very good.

I need to say something to fill the quiet tension.

“Thank you for inviting Jett today,” I say. It was the only thing I could think of to say.

“You already said that. Five minutes ago. And when I first picked you up.”

“Did I?”

I make the mistake of looking at him.

Fly trapped in web.

“You did.” His voice is soft and alluring.

I have to force myself to look away. I fix my gaze on the scenery outside my window.

“India, are you okay? You seem nervous.”

My eyes swing back to him. “Nervous? I’m not nervous.” My voice comes out high-pitched and saying, I’m totally nervous.

“No?” He tilts his head to the side, and some of those soft black strands fall into his eyes.

My fingers itch to brush them away. Maybe run into his hair and feel it, see if it’s as soft as I think it will be.

I’m his therapist. And I’m dating Dan.

I sit on my hands. “Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?” He moistens his lips with his tongue.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he did that to torture me.

Finding my mouth dry, I lick my own lips for moisture. “Because…I’m your therapist.” I lower my voice to a whisper even though I know Jett can’t hear me up front.