I see now that thosearegirls. The kind my mom said were only to be played with in youth. Valentina San Ramón is a woman. Classy, elegant, and one that some lucky man will have the pleasure of calling his someday.
But that’s not me. I couldn’t possibly measure up to a woman like her.
I escort us out of the lobby to the waiting car and wave off the chauffeur, opening the door and holding Valentina’s hand myself. Tucking the cascading skirt into the car, I slide in next to her and close the door, encapsulating us in tight quarters.
Her scent envelops me, infusing my senses with a smoky richness. It’s musky yet feminine and clean. Like a spring evening spent among the trees. Leaning in atouch, I inhale and close my eyes, soaking up something I hope to never forget.
“Did you just smell me?” I open my eyes to find I’m much closer than I planned, and not at all discreet.
I clear my throat and move back. “Yes?” I dare a peek at her to see her amused face.
“I will take that as a compliment,” she chuckles.
“You should. You smell amazing.”
“Thank you. It’sNot A Perfume.”
“What? You mean that’s just your scent?” As if she wasn’t perfect enough, God gifted her with the natural aroma of bliss.
I wonder what she tastes like.
“No, silly. That’s the name of the perfume.Not A Perfume.”
I knit my brows together, not sure if I understand, but I decide not to pay it any mind.
“Would you like some music, ma’am?” The chauffeur asks, watching us through the rearview mirror.
“Ladies choice.” I wink, something that usually sends women into a full body blush, but she only rolls her eyes.
“Anything you want. Just make it classic rock.” I examine her like she’s a new species of insect.
“A woman after my own heart. Absolutely. Which song?”
“Surprise me,” she throws back at him with a smile. “What?” She asks, noticing I’m still staring at her like a science experiment.
“Nothing. I just didn’t expect you to say something like that,” I admit.
With her hands crossed over her chest and narrowed eyes, she replies, “And just what did you expect?”
“I dunno. Some pop music. Taylor Swift or whatever.”
Her head flings back and the look on her face is one you may have after tasting something rancid.
“Seriously? Do I look like a woman who would listen to that type of music?”
Young Americansfilters through the speakers and her body immediately begins to sway. I don’t even think she’s aware she’s doing it. It’s just a natural reaction to good music.
“Now that you mention it, you seem more of a rage rock type person.” Her jaw hardens as does the expression on her face. “See. You need to let all of that anger out somehow.” I smile and add, “My parents are big grungies and classic rock fans. I grew up listening to all of it.”
With a crooked grin and a sparkle in her eyes, she volleys back. “I like mom and dad already.”
“Oh yeah? Does that mean it’s time for you to meet them?” I casually throw my arms over the back of the seat and relax, feeling more at ease.
“Not a chance, lover boy. That’s reserved for whatever girl I can find who’s willing to be a part of this charade.”
My face falls, slightly disappointed that she is still insisting on finding another “contestant” for the game that will play out for the world to witness.
“Speaking of. I think I found a couple of women who may fit the bill.” She flips open her small purse, but I lay my hand on it.
