company. “I know what you mean,” she
told him. “I figured you might be into heavy metal or rap or something. It’s fabulous to meet someone who likes the
same vintage music I do.”
At
Hacienda Verde, the host led them to a corner table on the rear patio. The background cantina-style music set the
mood and Carisa liked the candle on the table. She dipped a tortilla chip into the homemade
salsa as they perused the menu. “I’d
like the steak fajita enchilada,” she told Alex. “And I’d like a side of refried beans, but
without any cheese.”
“Sounds
perfect,” Alex said and ordered two meals. He didn’t order wine or margaritas, something Carisa didn’t like––just plain iced tea, same as she did.
Carisa savored the tender steak tucked
into a flour tortilla with a little sauce. As they dined, they talked, first about small
things like the current stretch of beautiful weather and how much they enjoyed
the food.
“Now,
you know I work at the all-news radio station,” Alex said. “Since Daphne does,
too, I’m sure you have a pretty good idea of what we do. But I don’t have a clue where you work.”
“I’m
a kindergarten teacher,” Carisa said and waited for
his reaction. Some of the guys she’d
dated laughed at her occupation. Others
thought she must be joking. A few told
her the idea turned them off.
Alex’s
eyes lit up. “How awesome,” he cried. “You’re lucky. You’re shaping young minds and helping kids
get a start in their education.”
Warm
pride in her occupation puffed through her chest. “Thanks. It is wonderful and I love what I do,” Carisa told him. “It can be hectic, but I wouldn’t trade it
for anything else.”
“Where
do you teach?”
“Webster
Elementary,” she said. The older brick
school once housed all primary grades, kindergarten right up through eighth,
but long before her time. Now it served
as an early childhood education center in one of the city’s poorest
districts. The building housed a low-cost
day care center, Head Start programs, pre-school and kindergarten. Caspar, the lawyer she’d dated for a few
months, had urged her to transfer to a suburban neighborhood school. He’d made a lot of jokes about switchblade
knives and armed robbery, too.
“No
kidding?” Alex asked. “I went to school there, myself. Grew
up in the neighborhood. It’s not
the best, but some good people call it home.”
“I
agree,” Carisa said. “We’re mostly working families,
some single parents but not all. Our
students represent several ethnic groups but they’re good kids, most of them.”
He
stretched out his hand across the table, above their now empty platters and
took her hand. “I like to think I was one of them.”
“I’m
sure you were,” she answered. Carisa liked the way his big hand wrapped around hers. Even more she enjoyed making real
conversation with someone like-minded who shared her interests. Alex Milton intrigued her and she longed to
get better acquainted. Common threads
stretched between them, something she’d seldom experienced. And Carisa couldn’t
deny her attraction. Ever since she
opened the door for him, her body tingled with a crazy desire. Her hands itched to touch him, her mouth to
taste his.
“Sometime
maybe I’ll show you my old school pictures,” Alex told her. “Let’s go.”
“Sure,”
she said. “Where are we going?”
Every
inch the gentleman, Alex held the restaurant door for her and ushered her to
the car in the shelter of his arm. “I thought about a movie or a club, but
neither would be my first choice. You
seem to like a lot of the same things I do, so will you trust me to surprise
you?”
“Yes,” Carisa said. Curious to see what he chose, she settled into the seat. The interior of the car smelled like Alex: warm,
masculine, with a hint of sandalwood or something exotic. As the heady aroma filled