‘Yep. Have you got the orders from Holborn and the others?’
‘Yes, and I was just about to ring the supplier,’ she said with a smile.
He smacked his palm against his forehead. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’m teaching you to suck eggs.’
‘No. But you’ve been doing this for years. It must be hard to give up control.’
‘A bit,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve got your course booked?’
‘I was going to ask you about that. I can go on Tuesday or Thursday next week. Which one would fit in best with whatever you’ve got planned?’
‘Either. And I’m not expecting to see you in here before or after, whichever day it is,’ he said firmly. ‘Straight to college from home—and straight back home from college, OK?’
‘Yes, boss.’ She saluted him. ‘Though I assume you’d like me to let you know if I pass?’
‘When,’ he corrected. ‘Of course you’ll pass.’
She’d already told him she wasn’t good when it came to exams, so it felt good that he had that much confidence in her.
‘When you’ve phoned the order through, come out the front and I’ll take you on a whistle-stop tour of the Giovanni’s empire.’ He smiled at her, and left her to it.
When she emerged from the office, a few minutes later, she was surprised when Gio led her to a car.
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to go by Tube?’
‘With all those line changes? Even Holborn, all of two stops away, means a line change. If you add in Islington and Docklands…’ He grimaced. ‘It’s a lot less hassle to do it this way.’
The car wasn’t what she’d expected, either. It must have shown on her face, because he said with a grin, ‘Just what were you expecting me to drive, Fran?’
Well, he’d asked—she might as well be honest. ‘A Harley. Or maybe a two-seater.’
He laughed. ‘First off, if I had a motorbike, it’d be a Ducati—I’d always pick an Italian make first. But if you’ve ever tried having a guitar case as your pillion passenger…’ For a second, his face clouded. And then he looked wistful. ‘A two-seater…Yeah.’
‘A Ferrari?’ It was the only Italian sports car she could think of.
‘Along with taking out a second mortgage to pay for the insurance? No.’ He shook his head. ‘My first car was a two-seater—an Alfa. I bought her the day after I passed my driving test. Dad went bananas that I’d spent so much money on an old car with a soft top that always leaked, but she was the love of my life. The day the mechanic told me there was no way he’d be able to fix her up to pass the MOT and I’d have to scrap her…’ He sighed. ‘I rang every car museum I could think of to see if I could donate her somewhere she’d get a kind retirement.’
‘And you found somewhere?’
‘No.’ He opened the passenger door of the estate car for her. ‘Dad had to take her to the scrap dealer’s for me. I couldn’t face it.’
Oh, bless. On impulse, she gave him a hug.
And then wished she hadn’t when every single nerve-end started tingling.
And tingled a bit more when Gio’s arms came round her to return the hug. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For not laughing at me.’
‘Course I wouldn’t laugh at you,’ she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as rough and croaky to him as it did to her, and she ducked into the car.
She just about managed to recover her composure by the time he slid into the driving seat. ‘So how come you’ve got an estate car now?’ It was the complete opposite of a little two-seater sports car.
‘Because Marco got really fed up with me borrowing his to do the cash-and-carry run, and nagged me into getting my own. Although my suppliers deliver nowadays, I haven’t got round to changing the car to something a bit smaller and easier to park.’ He slanted her a look. ‘Don’t tell me you drive a two-seater?’
‘I don’t have a car.’ She shrugged. ‘Don’t really need one, for London.’
‘What about when you go home to see your family?’
‘Train and taxi.’
‘So on a bright spring day, you never get up and decide to go to the seaside?’
‘No. But if I wanted to, there’s a reasonable train service from London to Brighton.’ She glanced at him. ‘Is that what you do on your days off? Go to the seaside?’
He gave her a non-committal murmur; given what she’d already heard his family say to him, she interpreted that as meaning that he almost never took time off.
As he turned on the ignition, the car was flooded with indie rock. Very loud indie rock.