On the table in front of me was a bowl full of mixed fruit with sprigs of mint, thick-cut bacon drenched in jalapeño syrup, eggs sunny-side up and drizzled in a balsamic reduction, and a bed of greens with goat cheese and nuts. I stared at it in admiration.
“You look like you just got delivered a bar of gold,” Jada commented.
I felt a little embarrassed she’d caught me salivating over my meal. “Do I?”
She nodded. “It’s okay. This French toast looks almost too good to eat.”
I glanced at the perfectly cooked food on the plate in front of her. “Why not order two? One to eat and one to look at?” I glanced around, raising my hand for the waiter.
He arrived so quickly, I swore he appeared out of thin air. “Yes, sir?”
“Can we have every pastry from your display case, please? Along with another plate of stuffed French toast?”
He didn’t even blink at my request. “Absolutely. Anything else?”
“More butter,” I added.
Jada snorted, making me smile.
As the server walked away, she shook her head at me. “I’m not going to eat all that.”
I gave her a wink. “They’re not for eating, remember?”
She arched a thick eyebrow. “Then what was the butter for?”
“To avoid suspicion of course.” When she chuckled, I picked up my fork and knife to cut into my bacon without getting my hands covered in syrup. My brothers would have a heyday picking on me for it. But they weren’t here.
“Do you like to cook?” I asked her, wanting to know more about her. Conversation seemed to flow so easily between us.
“My grandma says I’m better at passing the ingredients to her than cooking with them,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Underneath the glib expression, I could see the fondness she had for the older woman. “But I make a mean Pop-Tart in the toaster oven. What about you?” she asked.
“Turns out I’m better at ordering food than making it,” I admitted.
She laughed, and for a second, it felt like it was just the two of us in the café despite the low hum of chatter. It caught me off guard. Having ADHD, it seemed like other things were always tugging at my attention, but she’d quickly become my hyperfixation.
That is, until the server came with a tray full of plates... and then his team member pulled up another table to bring us more.
Jada and I looked at each other across the table, her eyes shining with amusement while I held back laughter. People were starting to look at us, and she covered her face with her hands like she was embarrassed. It was surprisingly adorable for the tornado of a woman I’d first encountered to now be shy.
“Do you need anything else?” the waiter asked.
“Looks incredible,” I told them as I patted my stomach. “I’m really hungry.”
Jada snorted out another laugh.
In a rare occurrence, I didn’t check my watch as we ate the rest of our meal. My phone was silenced in my pocket. I just... enjoyed our time together—along with our view of two dozen pastries and a massive bowl full of butter.
As our meal wound down, the servers boxed things up, and Jada and I walked through the front doors, paparazzi flashes battling with the midday sun.
One lesson Simon had taught me in business sales class was that you should always secure your next meeting before the current meeting was over.
So I stalled next to Jada on the sidewalk, waiting for my driver to return. “When can I see you again?” I asked.
She twisted her lips to the side thoughtfully. “How about... at work tomorrow morning?”
“Our bosses may not approve of us drinking champagne so early.”
“You are the boss,” she deadpanned.
