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And that was the funniest line thus far. Even the taxi driver chuckled. ‘I am man, hear me roar,’ echoed through my mind. I pulled a tissue from my purse and dabbed at my eyes lightly, so as not to smear my mascara and eyeliner.
“You are absolutely correct,” I confirmed when I could speak.
He missed the sarcasm in my voice because his chest seemed to puff in confirmation. I stifled my laughs, but boy, wasn’t it hard not to just let it all out?
The rest of the ride was just as nice. The conversation was easy, and we even got Larry the driver into the discussion. I couldn’t help but wonder who Raphael was, beyond the pies and masculine shield he projected. His humor and parts of his personality that he allowed others to see were beyond great, but it was the unexposed parts that got my mind working. I shouldn’t have cared. He was a complete stranger that I was only sharing a ride with. The analytical parts of my brain couldn’t let this puzzle go, though, and I had to wonder the whys.
After arriving, we checked in, went through security, and headed up to find the terminal that we wouldn’t need for about six hours.
“Have lunch with me.”
I opened my mouth to decline, but Raphael had already turned away and was off toward a restaurant. He may as well have thrown me over his shoulder and carted me off the way he assumed I would comply.
When I caught up to him, I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Yes?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I won’t have lunch with you.”
“But we are nearly there. And you look like you could use some good food.”
It was my turn to be insulted.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re too small. A few good meals should fill you out nicely.”
I groaned. “I’m not small.”
“You’re not large, either.”
“What gives, French man?”
“I’m not trying to insult you, American. I’m just saying that I see the potential that your body has. You’re an exquisite woman. I just prefer my women… not so easily broken.”
“Broken?! First off, I’m not your woman. Second, I don’t break!”
And, damn it, he was ushering me into a line for a table. I was so caught up in the conversation that I wasn’t paying attention.
“No, you’re not my woman. However, I was only offering you a meal.”
“Because you think I’m hungry!”
People around us turned in our direction, and I squirmed. I hated this kind of attention, yet I’d been the one to create the scene. I sighed in frustration.
“I’m sorry that I’ve offended you. I meant nothing by it.”
“Yet, you did.”
“I understand you don’t want to share a meal. As I said, I apologize for causing offense. It was nice meeting you. Thanks for sharing the taxi.”
