Tomas watched as the lithe, dark-skinned woman whisked through the restaurant in a fluid state of grace as she poured coffee and chatted with her customers. Smiles abounded as the woman moved from customer to customer taking the time to make each one feel as if they were the most important person in the world.
“More coffee,” she asked, as she leaned her right hip against the counter, her brown eyes staring into Tomas’s.
He caught himself staring at her beauty, but she didn’t shy away from his gaze. Instead, she let her eyes take in Tomas, and her full lips pulled back in a soft smile that revealed her white teeth. Tomas’s heart raced in his chest, and he cleared his throat before saying, “Yes, please.”
She poured coffee into his cup, and her eyes kept darting back to Tomas. A knowing smile played on her lips, and Tomas was unable to remain quiet any longer. In an official voice he blurted out, “May I have your name and number?”
“My name’s Tasha,” she said, as she tapped the name tag clipped to her apron. She pulled her pen from her pocket and wrote her number on a napkin and pushed it to him. Tasha giggled, and Tomas blushed.
“I didn’t mean to shout,” he said quietly. “You make me nervous.”
She laughed and whispered, “I make you nervous? You’re the policeman, not me.” Tomas sipped his coffee and blushed. After making the rounds, she returned to the counter and began to fill the glass sugar containers.
“May I ask you out to dinner, Tasha?”
Tasha lifted her eyes to Tomas. He met her eyes, and he smiled at her. She came over to where he sat and leaned her elbows on the counter top and said, “Hmm? I didn’t hear you.” Tomas lowered his eyes and said, “I want to take you out on a date.”
“A date? That’s old fashioned, besides you haven’t even told me your name yet. I don’t see men I don’t know.”
“Well, what kind of work do you do, Tomas?”
“I’m a detective.”
Tasha pursed her lips together and shook her head. “I see,” she muttered. “Are you from here? Or do you hail from somewhere else? Here’s the important question: Are you married? Or do you have children?”
“I migrated here from Mexico,” Tomas answered. “I’ve never been married, and I have no children. Do you?”
“No,” Tasha answered. “I’m not married nor do I have children.”
“So, will you go out with me, so I can get to know you better?”
Tomas watched as Tasha rested her right hand against her face and stared into his eyes. A tendril of black hair fell over her hand, her long slender neck exposed, and Tomas finished his coffee.
“I guess I know enough about you to go on a picnic with you,” she said after a long and deliberate pause. “If nothing else it will satisfy your curiosity.”
Tomas glanced at his watch and reached for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty and handed it to her.