They Say Love Is Blind (2 page)

Again, he watched the scenery as it passed with no interest in the other commuters. She tried to imagine what a man like that did for a living. She did it with everyone that rode the bus as a way to pass the time. Mr. Cutie didn't wear a suit, or uniform. He wasn't a construction worker; he was dressed too nice for that, but maybe an electrician, or computer tech? Her eyes scanned his clothing. He wore Dockers and a black long sleeved pull-over Henley. That didn't really tell her much, other than that he had a nice, lean body, and that he might change into something else once he got to his destination.
Oh well, she enjoyed watching and the fantasies that she could come up with wouldn't be bad eit
her. But as usual, fantasies were
all that she ever had with the good looking guys...or any guys for that matter. Tory hadn't been on a date in years and she barely knew what it was to be kissed. She wasn't a virgin because she was insecure about her looks, or because no one wanted to have sex with her. Tory was a virgin because she wouldn't allow the fact that someone had taken her innocence forcibly
to
dictate when she'd 'actually' lose her virginity. And until she met the 'right' person a born again virgin is what she'd remain.

It wasn't a horrible existence. The internet afforded her with a sexual outlet. But she was pretty sure that if she ever needed repair work done on her computer she'd just trash it and buy a new one.
She'd just have to be satisfied with watching from afar; the story of her life. She turned back to the front of the bus in time to see his curly head disappearing out the door. She strained to see him out of one of the windows but she was on the wrong side of the bus and the driver took off entirely too fast. Oh well, it was kinda pathetic anyway
,
that just watching a g
ood looking guy from afar would be the high point of
her day.

While at work she overheard two of her co-workers rave about a Portuguese restaurant not too far off of her bus route. She had never eaten Portuguese and couldn't imagine what kind of food would be served there, but listening to the two women talking really intrigued her. Her love of new food is what had packed on the pounds in the first place. But eating out was her only form of entertainment. Tory knew that if she wasn't always on a diet she'd be a true foodie. Her perfect life would be a fat, happy foodie with a boyfriend who loved trying new things as much as she did.
So that evening after work, Tory decided to treat herself to dinner out. The thought of eating another Lean Cuisine meal was nauseating and if she ate another piece of microwave chicken she was going to grow feathers!

Since The Jewel of the Azores Restaurant was not too far from her home,
Tory stayed on the bus and bypa
ssed her
usual
stop until she reached the section of town where all of the trendy restaurants sprouted. It was a melting pot where people from all over the world converged. She loved
staring at the people each time
she had to
travel
through this section of town and thought that it would be awesome to one day explore it. Now she would get the chance.

After she determined the correct stop, Tory had no choice but to walk the 8 blocks from the bus stop to the restaurant, seldom did she look forward to walking but when street performers and strange shops lined the streets and live music could be heard how could she not enjoy it? Luckily she was wearing flats today. Perhaps she'd burn a couple of calories before she replaced them with Portuguese food...whatever that might be.

Eventually she hobbled into the restaurant. Her shins felt like someone had kicked them and her chest was on fire.

The hostess stepped back when she came in panting. "Um...how many?" She asked with a concerned look on her face.

"O-one." Tory managed while leaning against a heavy wooden post trying to catch her breath.
"Follow me." Tory noted the couples and families crowding the small establishment. It was obviously popular. The smells sent Tory's mouth watering. She was shown a small table off to a corner. She had long ago given up her discomfort o
f eating alone. At the age of 27
Tory was used to doing everything alone. It wasn't that she didn't have friends. But they had boyfriends or families.
She opened the menu and read a brief introduction about the Azores; she didn't even realize there was such a place. The owners were smart to show pictures of the various dishes because the names were strange. Written in Portuguese, the titles were long and impossible for her to bend her tongue around. There was ever
ything on the menu from seafood and
blood sausage
to tripe and stew.

She grinned. This is what she liked; a new experience. A pretty waitress came to her table. She looked like she enjoyed food as much as Tory did and so Tory asked her to recommend something.
"We have a fishermen's stew which has whitefish, white beans within a tomato stock. We have a Portuguese chicken which is mildly spicy, has rice, cheese and stewed in a tomato stock-"
Tory watched the young woman intently as she rattled off the popular items. "But what do YOU like?"
The waitress paused and allowed her eyes to linger on Tory. She smiled in a more relaxed manner. "My favorite dish is definitely
sopa de couves
."

Tory was nodding her head. She had no idea what that was. "I'll have that please."

The waitress gave her one nod. "And to drink?"

Tory passed her menu to the waitress. "I'll let you decide."

The woman retreated with the menu and Tory took in her surroundings in more detail, admiring the mural on the wall of an Island with palm trees and people looking suntanned and happy. Soft music played something that sounded like a strange jazz and Spanish fusion. The room was painted in vibrant tones and colorful pieces of art dotted the walls. It was trendy yet comfortable. There was even a bar that looked like a tiki hut-

Tory froze, heartbeat lurching in a jolt of surprise. Her eyes scanned the familiar profile, the short hair with the promise of curls, the tanned skin and the light brown eyes. It was the cutie from the bus! He was enjoying a meal at the bar and he was alone, too. Tory felt a warm flush of excitement. Imagine that...

As she sat staring at him from across the room, a woman approached him. Ahh, so he was waiting for his woman. He'd started eating without her...but she didn't look like she ate anyways. Tory wasn't surprised to see that his woman had a body that should dance in rap videos and a face that would rival Halle B
erry
's. So he liked black women? Well who
would care about race when your woman looked like that
!

The woman took the stool next to him and began talking. He began shaking his head and said a few words before turning back to his dinner in a dismissive gesture. The woman's face fell in disbelief. Tory didn't need to be near enough to hear the exchange. It was clear that the she had been shot down! The woman continued to look at him in disbelief as he continued eating his dinner, ignoring her. Finally she jumped up and stalked away, leaving behind a trail of curses.

Yikes...Tory would never act like that if she were shot down...not that it would ever happen since she never put herself out there like that. She couldn't stop smiling. It felt good knowing that while Tory didn't have a chance with the cutie, neither did miss Halle Barrie!

Her order came and
sopa de couves
turned out to be stew that was filled with potato, collard greens, beef and red beans. There was a slight bite to it that she loved. Partnered with crusty bread and fresh squeezed lemonade and Tory was
in culinary heaven.

The waitress returned to freshen her drink. "How is everything?"

"You were right. This is really good."

"I'll bring you the next dish." Next? But the waitress whisked away in a flourish of colorful cloth, body thick but sensual.

She finished her soup and then a plate of clams was set before her. Mmmm...smothered in a garlic butter sauce. Slices of
b
read dipped into the sauce. Tory looked up at the waitress in appreciation.
"
Lapas
.
” And her voice had a
ta da
, quality to it.
“
I hope you like clams.
"

"I love clams." The waitress smiled.

"I will bring your desert."
Tory
hadn't ordered desert in a year. But she would eat it, and then maybe curl up into a little ball of guilt later that night. Tory picked up the first clam and dug out the tender flesh. Perfectly cooked. As she ate, periodically she would peek up at the man from the bus. He was currently sipping coffee and seemed satisfied to sit quietly, showing no interest in the game on the big screen
television
or any of the other diners at the bar.

Tory fantasized at what she'd say if he turned around and saw her. Would he even remember her? She was still thinking these thoughts as she ate the pastry that the waitress set before her. When the meal was over Tory left a hefty tip. The waitress' eyes brightened. "Thank you so much!"

"No, thank you. That was an experience. So this is Portuguese food." It was more of a question then a statement.

"Well,
actually Azores. There is a big
difference. You should come back." She liked the waitress's accent.
"I will." Tory stood and gave the man at the bar one last look. He was sitting at the bar quietly and very still. Hmmm, if she wasn't such a chicken she would go up and tell him hello. He looked like he could use
someone to talk to
. Instead she hurried out of the restaurant, glancing at her watch. It was dark and she was tired and her bus stop was several blocks away.

She walked to the bus stop as fast as she could
,
thinking that walking alon
e in an unfamiliar neighborhood especially at night
was a pretty ill
-
conceived idea. Next time, she'd be smart and call a cab.

She found her mind wandering back to the guy from the bus
. Maybe he was Portuguese and t
his must be his neighborhood.
That made perfect sense. It would be the
bus

stop prior to reaching hers. She wondered
how often he ate here. Perhaps she would become very familiar with this place.

That night Tory drew a bath and soaked a week's worth of stress from her body. She put in her favorite oil from THE AFRICAN SPA and then after her bath
she
lotioned her skin until it felt like spun silk.

Tory felt as if there was very little about herself that she could be proud of, but she knew her complexion was perfect. How many times had she hear
d, 'You have such a pretty face?
' It didn't take her long to realize that this was the only thing about herself that was pretty.
She brushed her shoulder length hair and then quickly rolled it. After brushing her teeth she sank into bed and fantasized about the man on the bus.

CHAPTER 2

When her alarm clock ran
g, she was prompt to get out of bed.
She ate half a grapefruit and an egg white omelet. She then dressed in a pantsuit that accentuated her breasts but downplayed her 'everything else.'

Looking in her vanity mirror, she styled her hair then set it with hair spray, applied lipstick and a bit of eyeliner. She looked at her watch knowing that she had plenty of time to catch her 'regular bus'...and then chose to relax with a cup coffee instead.

Confidently, Tory slipped on charcoal pumps to match her suit and strolled down the street at a leisurely pace. She sat on the bench and actually waited for the bus to arrive. There would be no entertainment at her expense today!

When she stepped onto the bus, the first thing Tory did was to look for her favorite bus passenger and wasn't disappointed. He was in his usual seat.

She
sat down next to him before paying her fare, pretending to search for change.

He turned slightly in his seat. "Good morning." His voice was deep with a pleasant low rumble. Her heart began to pound. He spoke first!

"Good morning. How are you today?" She said in a casual tone.

"I'm fine. May I put that money in for you?" He asked politely, holding out his hand for her change.

Her brow went up a notch. "Yes, thank you. I wouldn't want to fall on you again." She dropped the change into his hand her fingers brushing his palm slightly.

His full lips curved into a slow grin as he stood. "Totally my pleasure."

Tory's breath caught...that sounded like he was flirting...was he flirting with her? The man didn't even wait for the bus to slow or stop, he just stood and leaned, his muscles clear beneath his clothes, his ass worth two looks and Tory made sure that she looked twice.

When he sat back down, he reached between his feet to pat his duffel bag that was slid under the seat. He loo
ked at her then. His eyes were golden brown and held her complete attention. They were heavily
hooded bedroom eyes that made her want to swim in them...