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I had a mental image of all the Pulmer’s zooming around a race track going 200 plus mph and then Amelia going at a turtles pace. I let out another giggle.
“The art show doesn’t open for a while and the poetry readings starts after that, so what do you want to do till then?” Jonathon asked.
I took my gaze away from the scenes zooming by me to look at him. I can’t talk to people without looking at them.
“I guess we could just walk around. Is that okay with you?”
“Anything sounds good as long as I can do it with you.” Jonathon said.
“Awww, how cheesy Jonathon and romantic at the same time.” I said.
“That’s me. Cheesy and romantic. I’m the perfect combo,” He said grinning and pulling over to the curb.
“Don’t get to cocky on me,” I said.
“I won’t. I promessa,” He said.
“Jonathon you’re so sexy when you speak to me in Italian.”
“ I’m hurt. Aren’t I sexy all the time?” Jonathon asked jokingly.
“Yes, you are, but don’t flatter yourself. A wounded ego isn’t going to kill you.” I said jokingly hitting him in the arm.
“Let’s go.” He said getting out of the car. I opened my door to the street and crossed over to the sidewalk where Jonathon was waiting, hands in his jean pockets. His hair blew softly in the slight wind. He looked like he was posing for a magazine cover.
The wind ruffled my hair tickling my neck.
Jonathon grabbed my hand his eyes twinkling like a small child’s. I was so amazed at how well Jonathon has adjusted to acting like a twenty first century boyfriend. I thought it would take him a while but it hadn’t. He was so open to showing small amounts of affection in public, holding hands and maybe a quick kiss. Where as in the time period he grew up in any type of affection shown in public was looked down upon.
“Let’s start by walking down this street. There are some unique shops here.”
“Okay,” I said enjoying the feel of his hand in mine. I traced the contours of his hand with my thumb. He was rubbing my hand with his thumb gently, so very gently. For, I am so breakable.
I looked down at our hands entwined and then up at his face. He was watching me. I blushed and looked away, he smiled a small smile. His smile was so beautiful; he looked like a small mischievous boy when he smiled.
We walked hand in hand for a good fifteen minutes when I began to smell the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee. Yum.
“I’d like to get some coffee. Do you mind?” I said motioning to the terra cotta colored store front with three tables out front. Who would want to sit outside now? But then again I think sixty degrees is cold.
“No, I do not mind at all.” Jonathon said, his buttery voice melting in my ears. We entered the coffee shop to the sound of computers clicking, people talking and coffee being poured.
Some walls were painted a dark brown and others a light cre
am color.
I looked up at the menu to decide what I wanted. Of course everything was in Italian.
Two people were in line in front of me. I dug around in my purse for my Italian dictionary. I thought I had put it in there this morning but apparently with my haste I had forgotten it. I’d just have to ask Jonathon.
“Jonathon, do they have a caramel latte?” I asked. He studied the menu less than ten seconds, his eyes roamed over it faster than I would have ever been able to do.
“Yes, they do.”
“Can I get an extra shot of espresso?” I asked looking into his warm silvery eyes. He studied the menu momentarily.
“Yes, I believe you can. Would you like me to order for you?”
“Yes, please. I don’t think either one speaks English.” I said relief clouding my face and voice.
