Jessica leaned into Tim’s shoulder and whispered, “Okay, now you’re showing off.” He laughed out loud and gestured for her and the girls to walk ahead of him.
They sat in a large booth with Jo-Jo secured in a highchair at the end of the table. Chips and salsa were immediately brought out along with water, the waiter making sure to bring Styrofoam cups with lids for the children. The place was painted a gaudy burnt-orange, and vibrant Mexican themed murals decorated the textured walls. Canned music echoed softly through the space with a lone Spanish singer crooning about amore.
“This is nice,” Jessica said as she smiled at Tim who sat across from her.
“As I told you earlier, it’s off the beaten path and not much to look at. But the food is awesome.” He stuck a chip in his mouth before he helped Julia pour salsa into a little bowl from a tiny carafe.
Eyeing the menu, she listened to Tim tell the girls about some of the choices.
“They’ve got yummy cheese quesadillas, or if you like tacos, you can get a couple with a side of beans and rice…”
“Eww! I don’t like beans,” Jennifer interrupted.
“How do you know? Have you ever tried authentic Mexican beans? You might like them,” he encouraged.
“Why don’t you try, Jennifer? I’m gonna try something Tim suggested too.” Her eyes met his, and her chest swelled. She couldn’t put her finger on what she was feeling at that moment, but it took her by surprise. Sure, she was excited to be out of the house and spending quality time with her girls. It was also a nice change to get out of her shorts and t-shirt and share space with the handsome man who sat across from her, even if he wasn’t her typical type. She watched as he doted on Jo-Jo, making her giggle at the silly faces he was making when it suddenly hit her. She was happy.
When the waiter brought out a Dos Equis beer for Tim and a frozen margarita for her, she lifted her glass into the air. “Cheers everyone. Let’s all thank Tim for taking us out to dinner tonight.”
The little girls giggled and thanked Tim, touching their cups with his beer bottle. Even Jo-Jo raised her sippy-cup toward him. Jessica took a sip of her drink and sighed. It was delicious with just the right amount of top-shelf tequila. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed a cocktail in a restaurant with a handsome man. With the girls immersed in dipping tortillas into warm queso, Jessica decided to be bold and ask a few questions.
“Where did you learn to speak Spanish so well?”
Her question must have startled him because he choked on a swig of beer.
“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. Are you alright?” She passed a handful of napkins across the table to him that he dabbed against his beard while he coughed.
“Yeah. Sorry. Must have gone down the wrong pipe.” He paused and took a sip of water as Jilly affectionately patted him on the back. “I’m from California.” He ran another napkin across his lips. “I grew up on a nut farm.”
Jessica scowled, a pang of fear traveling straight to her heart. She looked away, adjusting the napkin on her lap, aware that her cheeks were growing hot.
“A nut farm?” she whispered in an attempt to keep their conversation quiet. “You mean, a psych ward—”
“No,” he interrupted, his voice rumbled with humor.
With wide eyes, she looked up at him and held her breath.
“It was my parents’ farm. Almonds. Pecans.” He took a swig of beer, never taking his eyes off her. “You know, nuts?”
Jessica bit her lip and sheepishly shook her head, welcome embarrassment filtering through her. “Oh. Those kinds of nuts. Silly me.”
Tim chuckled, leaning his elbows on the table. “Most of the day laborers on the farm were Spanish, and I was exposed to the language when I was very young.”
Jessica was intrigued. “You’re a long way from home. What brought you to Atlanta?” She wrapped her lips around the straw of her cocktail and waited for his response. He didn’t answer right away, and she noticed him tug on his beard a few times. Was her question out of line? She was only trying to get to know the man.
“You don’t have to share. I was just making small talk,” she apologized.
“No, it’s okay. I want to talk to you about it, but can we do it later? When the girls aren’t around?” His eyes seemed darker, the look on his face beseeching.
“Sure.”
As if on cue, several waiters with plates impressively loaded up their arms arrived at the table and passed out their order. The little girls oohed and ahhed over their dinner, eagerly diving into the Mexican feast. Jennifer took a bite of her side of beans and proudly proclaimed to Tim, she was a fan. The Ceviche Jessica ordered was light and flavorful, the delicious flounder marinated with lime juice and a special sauce, divine. Tim dug into his Steak Durango and helped keep Jo-Jo occupied by placing soft tortilla pieces and spoonfuls of yellow rice in front of her, which she fisted into her mouth.
As customers and wait staff walked by, many smiles were offered, and guests at nearby tables looked over often, taking in their little domestic scene. A stranger would probably assume they were a family, complete with adorable children and a loving husband and wife. But Tim wasn’t her husband. He was her gardener; a man raised on a farm in California. She had been so caught up in his beguiling green eyes, impressive stature and soft lips that she hadn’t taken the time to ask him the questions she should have in the very beginning. She was allowing this strange man access to her children and home. California was a long way away. Why in the world was he here in Atlanta doing yard-work for upper-class suburbia when he could be working on his parents’ almond farm on the West Coast where he was from? The questions swirled in her mind as she finished her dinner and slowly savored the rest of her margarita.
“Did you like it?” The low resonance of Tim’s voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she sat up straight.
“Pardon me?”
