Page 22 of Revived (Revved #2)

“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.”

“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?”

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