Arrested for Attraction

Before anyone approached the table-perhaps one of the waiters, a boisterous family who had just arrived, or even Leo or Luis, the owners of the place-Marina stepped forward.

"Do you have a phone number?" she asked, as if asking a trivial question. In case... I don't know, I need some information or information. About security or... whatever.

He smiled and dictated his number to her while she wrote it down with her still-damp fingers.

"Now you have a direct line to the law," he joked.

"And to temptation," she thought, without saying it.

The salt still stung her skin. The wind from the beach, which crept through the folds of her damp dress, had left her black hair tousled, plastered to her face, and with that sea scent she loved so much. Marina was in her usual restaurant-her friends Leo and Luis's-with her towel over her shoulder, sandals in her hand, and that delicious feeling of freedom that only comes when you get out of the water.

Her gaze wandered momentarily to some distant boat, but soon returned to the man's hands. Restless, she lowered her gaze and half-closed her eyelids; she felt his gaze on her. In an act of bravery, she sought his eyes, only to confirm what her skin was already screaming at her.

The place lent itself to losing herself in the landscape. It was a churuata, but not just any old one. It had a roof made of thick wooden logs supporting a solid structure, covered with rustic terracotta tiles that stood out in the sunlight. It had no walls, only the generous shade offered by the roof, and a terracotta ceramic floor that retained the warmth of the day. It was right on the seashore, allowing the sound of the waves, the smell of saltpeter, and the sea breeze to be an essential part of the experience.

Marina chose one of the tables closest to the edge, where she could see the movement of the waves and feel the warm wind caressing her skin. She sat alone, as she had so often. This place was almost an extension of her home, a refuge from routine where she always knew what to expect: a tasty meal, a chat with her friends when they could sit down for a while, and her moment of peace in front of the sea. From any point in the restaurant, she could see the ocean stretching out like an endless promise. Boats of various kinds and a few docks completed the landscape. Everything was open, natural, wrapped in golden light. Only this time, the landscape she enjoyed so much had a foreground that captured her full attention: a man, a policeman.

That afternoon, the routine was broken.

Just a few minutes after sitting down, while salt water was still dripping on the plastic chair, a shadow was projected across the table. She looked up... and there he was.

A tall man-extremely tall, she thought-in an immaculate blue uniform and a presence that made the entire restaurant fade for a moment around him. She estimated him to be about two meters tall, maybe a little more. The uniform fit his body perfectly: it showed off broad shoulders, thick, hairy arms, and a bearing that seemed straight out of a movie. But it wasn't fiction. He was there, in front of her.

"Is this seat taken?""He asked in a deep, clear voice, with a respectful tone that immediately disarmed her. "I just want a quick drink, if you don't mind."

Marina hesitated for half a second, not out of discomfort, but out of surprise. In so many years of visiting that restaurant, never had a stranger-much less one like him-asked her to sit at her table. It was a new scene. Unexpected. And profoundly pleasant. Especially when the other tables were empty.

"No, of course not," she replied with a shy smile and a curious knot in her stomach. "Come in."

He sat down carefully, like someone who knows he's taking up space and doesn't want to invade. His movements were calm, controlled, but still firm. Up close, Marina could notice even more details. He had light skin, golden brown from the sun, with thick brown hair that covered his arms and peeked out from under his shirt collar. He had a strong, solid body. He must have weighed at least 120 pounds. A hundred kilos of pure presence.