Jenn's POV
The ride was smooth, the weather was just right—sunny but breezy—and the music playing was some soft indie playlist Andres probably curated himself. Typical.
"So, where are we going first?" I asked, breaking the silence before I got completely lost in staring at the way his jaw clenched every time he turned the wheel.
"There's a little breakfast place I own nearby—nothing fancy," he said casually.
"Nothing fancy?" I raised an eyebrow.
"You'll see," he smirked.
We drove for about twenty minutes before stopping in front of this cozy little café tucked into a quiet lane. The sign read "Casa Amoré." The exterior was vintage, with flowers hanging down from small balconies and vines crawling up the side walls.
"You own this?" I asked in disbelief.
"Guilty," he shrugged, parking the car.
Jas stayed back in the car, saying she wasn't feeling too well and would rest for a while. I checked on her, gave her a painkiller I always carried, and she gave me a sleepy thumbs up. "Enjoy your breakfast date," she whispered before closing her eyes. I chose to ignore the word "date."
We entered the café and it smelled like warm croissants and fresh coffee. A waiter greeted Andres with a nervous smile and I realized—this wasn't just a place he owned. It was his baby. Everyone looked at him like he was the boss.i was thinking in my mind that how many restaurant he actually owned. This guy is rich than I expected.
He pulled out a chair for me, and I sat. The menu was already on the table, but he waved it off.
"I already ordered your breakfast. I hope that's okay?"
"That depends… what if you ordered something weird?" I teased.
"You like pancakes, right?" he asked, smiling like he knew all my secrets.
The way he said it made my heart skip a beat.
The food arrived within minutes. Fresh pancakes with berries and whipped cream, scrambled eggs, toast, and hot chocolate.
I took a bite. "Okay… you win this one. This is really good."
We chatted for a while—mostly light stuff, like movies and travel. But then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Do you ever get tired of pretending everything's okay?"
That one hit deep.
I looked at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged, poking at his food. "I just feel like… you always smile, always joke. But there's this look in your eyes sometimes. Like you're carrying something heavy."
I stayed quiet for a second. He wasn't wrong. But I didn't expect him to notice. No one ever really did.
"I guess I just don't like being seen as weak," I finally said.
He looked straight into my eyes. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Not with me."
And just like that, the sarcasm disappeared from our conversation. There was silence—but the kind that felt okay. Safe, even.
I cleared my throat. "That's… oddly sweet of you."
"Don't get used to it," he grinned, putting his hand dramatically over his heart. "I have a reputation to keep."
I laughed, but my mind was spinning. This guy was dangerous—not because he was a player or anything, but because he noticed the little things. And that's exactly how people get under your skin.
We finished breakfast, and as we walked out, he stopped and turned toward me.
"Next time, I want you to cook breakfast for me."
"Excuse me?" I blinked.
"Yeah. I heard you make good chai too. Prove it."
I rolled my eyes. "Only if you're brave enough."
He held the door open with a smirk. "I'm fearless."
As we got into the car, I couldn't help but think—he might just be the kind of chaos I didn't know I needed.