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He gives me a small smile in return, which lights up his eyes with a hint of mischief. “I guess I’m not good at doing what I’m told. Would you like to join me?”
Sylvia’s voice keeps screaming at me over and over in my head. Get out of your own way. Do things you wouldn’t normally do. Have some damn fun. Okay. Okay, I get it. “Sure. One drink would be nice.”
He motions for me to lead the way. His hand drops back inside his pocket. “You said you haven’t done a holiday in a while. Is there a reason?”
“My work has kept me pretty busy for the last little while. Any traveling I’ve done was for that. I mean, they’ve been great places to visit. I have a few favorites though.”
“Really? What makes them so?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s about how I feel when I’m there. If I feel I’m at home versus staying somewhere, that will add it to the list.”
“You travel mostly in the States then?”
“Mostly, yes. I have been spoiled and been to London, Dublin, and Sydney, Australia in the last couple years when my clients have needed me to.”
We reach the corner and need to cross the street. I’m so focused on what I’m saying, I nearly step off the curb before thinking. His hand quickly comes from its resting place to halt me by the wrist. Before I even have time to register our physical connection, he’s moved into a slightly protective stance in front of me, looking both right and left before we enter the crosswalk.
He doesn’t move his hand from my wrist immediately. The breeze betrays me and blows in across us. He smells good. Too good in fact. It’s like I’ve taken a bite from an apple in the Garden of Eden while walking along the sea’s edge. The crisp, clean saltwater scent overwhelms my senses even further. A gentle squeeze of his fingers brings me back to the here and now as we reach the other side.
“Sorry. Sometimes I get to talking.”
“You get lost in thought. I understand that. What do you do for work?” he asks.
I want to tell him the truth. It would be easier, but I also don’t want him to think I’m after something. I decide to give him an answer without really giving him one. “I have an idea. Let’s not talk about what we do. In fact, we can talk about anything other than that. Think of it as a game. We’re just two people learning about each other.”
His eyes light up again with that same mischief I saw just a few short moments ago. “I like that game. I’ll play.”
We get to the rustic building on the corner made of worn wood and brick. He reaches for the handle, swinging the door wide for me. “You’re good at that,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
With a smile, he waits for me to pass. The top of my head crosses just below his chin. I take the moment to subtly inhale his scent again. If this is a game, I’m going to get everything out of it I can.
The floors on the inside are the same dark, weathered wood that’s on the outside of the building. There are tall booths covered in red leather, same with the barstools that line a short sloping counter inside the door. There are a couple of seemingly regular locals at the bar. Otherwise, the room is lightly lined with music instead of the chatter I’d normally think of.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask. Would you prefer to sit inside?” he inquires.
These types of questions are all so new to me for a couple of reasons. Vince and I were together for a long time. After a while, he stopped asking things because he either knew what I would say, even if the answer had changed, or he stopped caring. For a long time, I felt it was both.
“I’ll let you choose,” I tell him. “If you want a more private corner for yourself, then we do that. If you don’t mind if others come up to you, we can certainly sit outside.”
He looks down at me, staring into my eyes silently. It’s a simple kindness that I’m used to. I always let my clients choose. Only they can tell me what they need based on what their feelings are that day. I ask it because I care. He opens his mouth to speak, but for a moment nothing comes out. I can see this wave of emotion rise and fall in his spirit.
“I’d like to remain inside. There is a corner booth in the back near the door going out. It’s more suited for talking.”
“Sounds nice. Show me?”
Rafael gently takes my hand, guiding me to the back. The booth back here is more plush than the front. The nook we’re in reminds me of a speakeasy from the twenties. A few pillows, a round table with a candle trio centerpiece, and a fan whirling overhead. I move to the inside, sliding to the back, while he remains standing.
“Allow me to order for you. What would you like?”
“Moscow Mule if they can. Bombay and tonic, if not.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I watch him walk away and release the breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Being in his presence is overwhelming. I’m around celebrities all the time. When I was young, I would get starstruck. I haven’t been in a long time before tonight. In the few moments we’ve been close to each other, I feel this unspoken language.
I send a quick text to Sylvia, letting her know where I am and who I’m with. She doesn’t respond before Rafael returns with our drinks in hand. “They were able to make your first choice. I decided to try it as well.”
He settles my copper mug in front of me before he slides into the booth by my side. He doesn’t come too close, but still close enough. I tuck my right foot underneath me and take a long sip from my chilled cup, hoping it will instantly curb the butterflies in my belly. “This is really good. Thank you. You said you were missing your dog. What kind of dog do you have?”
