his chin, and he had it tucked behind his ears. His eyes were large and dark, set in a smoothly chiseled face with perfect, golden-tanned skin. There was some mix of ethnicities going on there, I suspected, but none I could discern. Whatever the combo, it worked. Extremely well.
âHey, is anyone sitting here?â He nodded at the chair beside me. It was the only empty one at the bar.
I shook my head, and he sat down. He didnât say anything else, and the only other time I heard him speak was to order a margarita. After that, he seemed content just to people-watch, like me. And honestly, it was a great place to do it. Alejandroâs was right next to a midlevel hotel and drew in patrons and tourists from all sides of the socioeconomic scale. TVs showed sporting events or news or whatever the bartender felt like putting on. A few trivia machines sat at the other end of the bar. Musicâsometimes live, but not tonightâforced the TVs to have closed-captioning, and dancing people crowded the small space among the tables.
It was humanity at its best. Teeming with life, alcohol, mindless entertainment, and bad pick-up lines. I liked to come here when I wanted to be alone without being alone. I liked it better when drunk, stupid guys left me alone. I wasnât sure about articulate, good-looking ones. One nice thing I soon discovered was that with Tall, Dark, and Handsome sitting next to me, no losers dared approach.
But he wasnât talking to me either, and after a while, I realized Iâd kind of like him toânot that Iâd have any clue what to say back. With the glances he kept giving me, I think he felt the same way. I didnât know. A sort of tension built up between us as I nursed my Corona, each of us waiting for something.
When it finally came, he started it.
âYouâre edible.â
Not the opening Iâd been expecting.
âI beg your pardon?â
âYour perfume. Itâs likeâ¦like violets and sugar. And vanilla. I suppose itâs weird to think violets are edible, huh?â
âNot so weird as a guy actually knowing what violets smell like.â It was also weird that he could even smell it. Iâd put it on about twelve hours ago. With all the smoke and sweat around here, it was a surprise anyoneâs olfactory senses could function.
He shot me a crooked grin, favoring me with a look that could only be described as smoky. I felt my pulse quicken a little. âItâs good to know what flowers are what. Makes it easier to send them. And impress women.â
I eyed him and then swirled the beer in my bottle. âAre you trying to impress me?â
He shrugged. âMostly Iâm just trying to make conversation.â
I pondered that, deciding if I wanted to play this game or not. Wondering if I could. I smiled a little.
âWhat?â he asked.
âI donât know. Just thinking about flowers. And impressing people. I mean, how strange is that we bring plant sex organs to people weâre attracted to? Whatâs up with that? Itâs a weird sign of affection.â
His dark eyes lit up, like heâd just discovered something surprising and delightful. âIs it any weirder than giving chocolate, which is supposed to be an aphrodisiac? Or what about wine? A âromanticâ drink that really just succeeds in lowering the other personâs inhibitions.â
âHmm. Itâs like people are trying to be both subtle and blatant at the same time. Like, they wonât actually go up and say, âHey, I like you, letâs get together.â Instead, theyâre like, âHere, have some plant genitalia and aphrodisiacs.ââ I took a drink of the beer and propped my chin in my hand, surprised to hear myself going on. âI mean, I donât have a problem with men or relationships or sex, but sometimes I just get so frustrated with games of human attraction.â
âHow