He stares from across the patio at Kona Grill. I turn to see who or what is behind me and greet the wall. Turning back my dad says, "that guy is checking you out." Mom agrees and it's only slightly uncomfortable to be caught in the gaze of an attractive man with my parents as witnesses.
It is my first weekend without the kids as their father takes the parenting helm. Returning the gaze of this dark haired stranger, it appears he too is in the midst of a father's weekend. A disinterested teenage daughter across from him with an enthusiastic eight-year old to his right. He could be squared with the table but he sits at a 90-degree angle, pointed toward our table, turning his attention to his table if only for a moment or two.
Dad says, "watch, I'll give him five seconds. One, two, three... see?" And he turns back to look at me. Subtle.
A tattoo on his ankle reveals his athleticism. I am not a weekend warrior -- let alone an athlete -- but I'm pretty sure that's the red M of Ironman. He keeps looking at me and it is unnerving to be the focus of his penetrating, brown-eyed stare. Why is he doing this? My doubt and insecurities bubble to the surface and I tell myself that I am not the world's most beautiful woman but reassure myself that I do possess that certain something, what the French call, je ne sais quoi... don't I???
The bill arrives breaking the tension and we take our leave through the side patio door. As we walk to my car I am tickled if not flattered. It's nice knowing that I can still attract a man... one who isn't married [from what I can tell] or working for the same company. Seated behind the wheel of my black 2011 328i I opt to drive back by Kona when any number of other paths would get us home sooner. And sure enough, as we slow to a stop he's there and he looks over, knowing that I know that he is interested.
The weekend is busy with painting touch-ups, furniture purchases and other chores that transition my home into that of a new divorcee. And somewhere in the busyness of the day it hits me like a cinder block: shit, that's the guy from Starbucks! I forget, was it six months ago or more? In line in front of me stood a man with sculpted tan legs. The eternal smart ass without a filter, I quipped to my favorite barista, Michael, "nice legs."
It's Sunday following the Kona encounter and I wonder if I'll see him in the coming week. It seems unlikely considering his absence in recent months. A few days later I stand corrected as I wait in line for my Americano.
"Hey, were you at Kona Grill Saturday?"
"Yeah, was that you?" I verbally stumble, like would he be asking if he wasn't? Dirr! Red creeps up to my ears. He either doesn't notice or rolls it up into the the algorithm of my charm. The next several moments of conversation are on autopilot as I drink him in and cross-reference his attributes to my list: Hispanic or dark Irish? Yes on the former which by default grants him dark hair and eyes. Fit, funny and smart? Check, check, check.
"Yeah, I'm going through a divorce right now." Check that. He's available, right?
"Oh... me too. It's hard."
"When will yours be final?" he asks.
"December. You?"
"Me too... maybe January." His drink is delivered on the counter and he grabs it to go. "Well nice meeting you."
"You too," I reply. He turns and scoots in a hurry. He possesses one quality NOT on my list: Short. From around the espresso counter Michael greets me with a grin. "He's going through a divorce too" I say.
Michael offers, "Paul's a successful business man at Dell too." Oh! Well maybe being short doesn't matter. I walk to my car to head on down the road to Houston for a business meeting. Thoughts swim through my head as I navigate 290 West with the final one being that I positively cannot wait to get back to Austin and my little caffeine getaway at FM 1431 and Parmer.
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