Holding his gaze, I felt a spark pulsate through my arms. I couldn't deny it. I did feel something as he held onto my hands, a warm, peaceful feeling that connected us, binding us together. It was as if, at that moment, I happened to be in the right place at the right time.
The waiter soon returned with our coffee, setting the cups down near the edge of the table, careful not to disturb our interlocked arms.
David nodded at him and turned back to me, keeping a firm grip on my hands.
2
David
This one is different; she has potential—a diamond in the rough. I like that Valerie isn’t reed-thin. Her chocolate brown hair and voluptuous curves are a breath of fresh air. She's so unlike the painstakingly thin Barbie dolls that travel in flocks in this city. Sure they're cute, but they could all use a good meal.
Not my Val, though, she’s no ‘Valley girl.’ Not only did she eat a meal I paid for, but she also indulged in a dessert with me—a rarity. I can't remember the last time I shared something sweet with someone. Val is a great gal. She’s someone who can keep up with me.
I glance at my watch and realize she'll be here any minute. I check the room one last time, making sure everything's put away. I wouldn't want her discovering items from my past… from my previous life. It’s too much information too soon.
I feel a vibration in my pocket as my cell phone buzzes against my thigh. Sliding it out, I gaze down and see a text message.
I’m here, out front. Hope I'm at the right place. Val
Oh, you’re at the right place, all right. You’re home. I’m tempted to text back. But instead, I slink down the stairs with my head held high, thoughts swirling, excited as I open the front door.
“There she is,” I reach for her overnight bag. “How was the drive?” I ask, and then smile.
“Not bad, it took me a little over five hours. I followed the GPS and made a few pit stops along the way.”
“You’ve never been to California?” I tilt my head ever so suavely.
“No, it's my first time.”
“Really? For some reason, I thought you had been here before.”
She follows me inside, up the stairs, and into the living room. I place her luggage down and then turn to her, enveloping her in my signature bear hug. Her body feels rigid, reluctant at first, but then her hands gently press against my lower back as she returns my gesture of affection.
“I've missed you,” I lean back to stare into her eyes.
“It’s only been a week,” she remarks, breaking away from our embrace. “Besides, you don't know me well enough to miss me.” Her gaze travels across the room and along the walls, studying each and every frame for a few moments.
“Wow, these pictures are stunning.” She inches her way closer to them.
“Thanks. I'm a pretty good photographer if I say so myself.”
“You took all these?”
“Yes, over the years of my travels.”
“So, they were all taken in Central America.”
“Costa Rica to be exact.”
“The waterfalls, the jungle, all these colorful birds… they’re all so—exotic.”
“Glad you like them.”
“I do. I'm trying to imagine what it would be like to see it all in person—to experience the rushing sound of the waterfall, the birds chirping, and the earthy smell of rain in the air.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask. Glancing over, I study her as she stands by the waterfall photo.
“All that's missing is a tropical drink in my hand,” I hear her say.
“I have a better idea. You must be hungry from all the driving, so why don't we head out for a late lunch, early dinner. We can go down to the marina and relax by the water.”
“Sounds wonderful, but first, I'd like to freshen up a bit.”
“Down the hall and to the right is the spare bedroom. It connects with your own private bathroom. Take as much time as you need.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long.”
I watch as she picks up her luggage and saunters down the hallway. I must say the jeans she’s wearing hug every inch of her in all the right places.
We enter one of my local haunts, The Wharf Bar and Grill, standing in the foyer waiting to be seated. To our left, local patrons perched on stools along the bar sit nursing their assorted drinks.
“Table for two?” the petite, bored-looking hostess asks.
“Yes,” I reply, “outside, please, by the water.”
We follow the young woman outside to the patio with a scenic view of the harbor. I take a seat next to Val. A waitress appears, placing two menus on the table and then walks away. Only two nearby tables are occupied.
At one table, a middle-aged couple sits across from each other, sharing an appetizer. At the other, two young blonde women sit close to each other in deep conversation. I glance briefly at both tables and then turn to look at Val.
“Thanks for picking this place,” she says. “It's so serene; it’s just what I needed.”
“I thought it would do the trick, noticing how entranced you were with the waterfall photo.”
She smiles at me and then peeks at the menu. The waitress soon interrupts us, apologizing, and takes our order.
“So how long have you lived in Vegas?” I ask.
“Too long,” she says, rolling her eyes, “a little more than two years now.”
“By the sound of your voice, I take it that it’s not working out for you.”
“It's not. That town is definitely not for me. I have only two friends I can trust, one of them my roommate.”
“I imagine it would be tough dating in Sin City. I've been visiting Vegas the past couple of years for conventions but only stay a few days at a time. I assume living there is not all it's cracked up to be.”
“That’s putting it mildly; it’s the land of twenty-four-seven entertainment with
