Free First Sight by Laura Donohue Page B

the museum at 5 :00, t he streetlights were already on, providing a warm glow against the darkening sky.  T he air was crisp , a nd I could smell the smoky scent of wood burning, coming from somewhere else in the city.   I shivered in the winter air, crossing my arms across my chest.
    “Wow, I hate winter,” I said.  “I’m so ready for it to be springtime.”
    Travis grinned as he looked down at me.  “Oh come on,” he teased.  “This isn’t that bad.”
    I smiled up at him.  “It’s not that good either.”
    He laughed, and the twinkle was back in his eyes again.  “ Well, I’m starving.  Do you want to get something to eat?”
    “Sure, that sounds good.  W hat do you feel like?”
    “Oh, I like everything.”
    “There’s a good tapas place not too far from here,” I said, pointing in the direction that we needed to go.
    “ Tapas sounds good.  Let’s try it,” Travis agreed, rubbing his hands together.
    I remembered that his hands were in his pockets earlier in the sculpture garden.  “Don’t you have any gloves?” I asked.
    “I forgot them,” he replied.  “I’m okay though.”  He shoved his hands in his pockets again , and we started walking.   People were bustling about on the street, coming back from running errands or heading out for an early dinner.  One man walked by carrying a bouquet of red roses, and I wondered if he was having his Vale ntine’s celebration a day late .   We crossed the street and a cab honked at us, even though the crosswalk light was in our favor.  “Wow, that’s the first time I’ve gotten honked at all day,” Travis joked.  “Drivers are so much ruder in New York.”
    “That’s terrible,” I said.
    “Oh, you get used to it after a while.”
    We walked a short way down the block and arrived in front of the restaurant .  The covered patio area was empty—the tables and chairs all pulled inside for winter.  I’d spent many a happy hour there on warm summer evenings , but the area certainly didn’t look inviting now.  Travis opened the door for me, and together we walked inside .  The restaurant was warmly lit, with large , colorful Spanish paintings on the walls, wrought-iron tables with blue mosaic tops , and an earth-colored tile floor.
    “Table for two,” Travis said when we approached the hostess stand.
    The hostess picked up two menus and guided us to a cozy table by the window. I unwrapped my scarf and slid off my coat , d rap ing them over the back of my chair.  Travis sat down across from me, shrugging out of his leather jacket.  He had on a forest green sweater, and as I watched his face— taking in his strong jaw and dark brown eyes—I was reminded again how handsome he was.  We’d been walking around looking at painting s all afternoon, so this was the first chance I had all day to really focus on him.
    After handing us each a menu, the hostess walked away.  Just then a few teenage girls walking by the window peeked in at us .  I wondered what they were looking at since we had just gotten there ; it wasn’t like they could be admiring our dinner.   They saw me watching them and jumped back as I laughed.   “We don’t even have any food for them to look at,” I said .
    “ Maybe we just look really interesting ,” Travis said with a grin.
    I raised my eyebrows doubtfully at him, still laughing.
    “Maybe they liked your outfit ?”
    I glanced down at my fitted black cashmere sweater.  Although I liked it, I doubted it was my sweater they were looking i t.  More likely they had been checking out Travis.   But I looked back up at him and said, smiling, “You must be right.   Why wouldn’t they want to stop in the cold to see what I was wearing ? ”
    He laughed and then picked up his menu.  “ So what’s good here?” he asked.
    “They have really good sangria,” I immediately replied .
    “Do you want to get a pitcher?”
    “Sure, that sounds great .”
    I told him how I liked to come here in the