“Y-yes.” His leg is bouncing under the table, and he can’t quite meet my eye. My brain immediately pulls up a shortlist: autistic, anxious, maybe both. I’ve traveled and worked with enough neurodivergent people to recognize the signs.
Plus, I’m an ADHD pixie myself. I’m getting a definite sympatico vibe.
“I… Let me pay you back for my tea,” he blurts, his voice catching slightly.
I shake my head easily. “It’s OK, I’ve got it.”
“Really,” he insists, firmer now, though the squirmy body language undercuts it. “This is the s-second time you’ve done something nice for me -”
“It’s all good,” I say, but his discomfort is real, not performative, so I throw him a rope. “OK, OK. Let’s just say you owe me again.”
Jacob’s gorgeous mouth twitches. “Another beer?”
Ha. He remembered. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll think of something…better.” I let my interest show. Warm, overt, no games. I don’t like the slow torture of guessing. I’d rather get to the point and have the orgasms than waste time on ifs and buts and maybes.
He stirs his tea absently, spoon moving in small circles while his eyes trace my face. His breathing hitches, and he leans in a centimeter, like gravity’s shifted.
“Are you…” he starts, then tries again. “Are you here for much longer? England, I mean.”
“Couple of weeks, maybe.” I shrug. “Nice to get some quality time with Leo and Sadie and the kids.” Breakfast flashes into my mind and makes me laugh. “RhiRhi was cute this morning. I made her an omelet, she called it an ‘on-nom-nomelet’ and asked for enough cheese to feed a family of mice for a month.”
He huffs a laugh, and his leg slows. Family talk is a good ice breaker for him; I’ll remember that. “I love how confident she is.”
“Me too. Sadie and Leo are just letting her be herself, with firm boundaries. It’s kind of the dream.” I grin. “Not that I know anything at all about parenting, but still.”
“That must have been how you were raised, then,” he says.
Heat swirls low in my belly at the way his voice drops when he gets thoughtful. It’shot, like he contains hidden worlds my wanderlustful soul wants to explore. I cross my legs, enjoying the sparkly way my body responds. “What makes you say that?”
He flinches like he’s only just heard his own words, too late to think better of them. “J-just that you… you’re very…” He searches the air for the right word. “Secure.”
I like the way he says it. Notconfidentlike a performance, butsecurelike a meaningful foundation. “I’ve learned to trust myself. And to accept who I really am.”
He gives me a small, sad smile that makes me want to climb onto his lap and wrap myself around him until whatever hurt lives under that look softens. “That’s a very fortunate position to be in.”
My curiosity perks its ears. “You can’t be ignorant of your own appeal,” I say gently. Jacob doesn’t strike me as the type to fish for compliments.
“I’m… nothing to write home about,” he mutters, shoulders hunching.
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “You look like you could star in a BBC Jane Austen adaptation.” And he really does, with his quiet intensity and impeccable bone structure. “You’d nail Captain Wentworth. All that stilted, repressed yearning and obvious competence.”
He chuckles, self-conscious but pleased. “That’s… very kind of you to say. But the truth is…” He takes another sip of tea. “It wouldn’t matter if I were the best looking man in the world if I don’t have the social capability to support it. Like having a million pounds in your bank account but no card to spend it with.”
I whistle softly. “Good analogy.” I slide my hand across the table so my fingers rest near his. “It’s not just your appearance, though.”
And it isn’t. Years of travel have trained my gut to spot good people, safe people. Safety is a pretty huge compliment from me. Jacob radiates kindness, even banked this carefully. I can feel the heat of his inner bonfire from here. If he ever lets himself burn bright in front of someone, they won’t know what hit them.Intelligence, focus, that watchful mind; if he relaxed into someone, really let go… God, he’d be devastating.
I decide I’d very much like that someone to be me.
But I’m losing him again. The compliment overload trips a breaker. He retreats behind his cup, taking three slow, measured breaths. I can practically hear the mental reboot. He’s usefully readable.
Time to change the channel.
“Have you ever been to California?” I ask. “I could use an opinion.” I know he has. Sadie told me.
He looks up, surprise easing some of the tension. “I just got back from there a few days ago,” he says, a little ‘small world’ smile tugging at his mouth.
I finally remember my cappuccino. The chocolate crust is thick; I take a sip and feel his gaze track the movement as foam hits my upper lip. I swipe it away with my thumb and lick it off playfully, because I’m only human after all.
