Read Online Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 by Heidi Cullinan - Free Book Online
Authors: Heidi Cullinan
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politely and having dinner. It confused Sam, and he felt shy as he slid into the booth.
Mitch was already poring over the menu. “Okay, I wanted burritos, but now I can’t make up my mind. Jesus, it all looks good.”
Sam’s stomach growled as he scanned his own menu. Paychecks weren’t until the end of the month, and he’d borrowed five bucks from Emma so he could order à la carte. “They have combination plates, and then some bigger dinners that have variety.” He reached over to point out the section to Mitch. “More expensive, but you get a lot of food.”
“A lot of food sounds good.” Mitch squinted at the page. “Sunshine, this isn’t expensive. You should see what they charge for this sort of stuff in L.A.”
“You’ve been to Los Angeles?” Sam didn’t bother hiding his wistfulness.
“I’ve been just about everywhere.” Mitch kept reading the menu. “But I get out west a lot.”
“Las Vegas?” Sam was surprised when Mitch’s face shuttered.
“Not in awhile, no. But I am heading west, generally, in a few weeks, after a quick run east.”
“Do you go all over? All the time?”
“I do deliveries on contract, and I try to stagger them so I get around pretty much everywhere. I hate sitting too long in one place.”
The waiter appeared and asked how they were doing and what they wanted to drink. It was Damario, one of Sam’s favorite waiters, and Damario looked hopeful when he saw Sam. Mitch ordered a Bohemia with some relish. Sam eyed the margarita menu longingly but asked for a glass of water. Damario’s expression fell. He knew when Sam started with water he’d get an order of less than five dollars and a tip of about fifty cents.
When the waiter put down the bowl of chips, Sam’s stomach growled so loudly he worried Mitch had heard. He quickly scooped up a few of the chips, not even bothering with the salsa in an effort to get something into his stomach. He realized in hindsight he should have eaten a few spoonfuls of peanut butter before coming.
Sam dipped chips two at a time into the dish of salsa. “That’s kind of cool how your company sends you so many places.”
“I don’t work for a company.” Mitch waited until Sam cleared the bowl a second time before taking a more modest serving of salsa for himself. “I operate independently, one gig at a time. Sometimes I contract out for a bit.” Mitch nodded thanks at the waiter as he brought their drinks. He eyed Sam’s glass of water with open criticism. “Not a drinker, huh?”
“No, I—” Sam shifted awkwardly in his chair and clutched at his glass. “I only wanted water tonight, is all.” He took a drink and reached for more chips.
“You travel much?” Mitch sipped at his beer. “Got a favorite part of the country?”
“I haven’t gone much of anywhere.” God, he was so hungry. Had he eaten lunch? “I got as far as Minneapolis and Chicago for school trips, and when I was six, Mom took me to the Black Hills, but I don’t remember much of it. Otherwise it’s been Middleton with a few trips to Des Moines every now and again.” He ate more chips, telling himself these would be his last for a while, but he got distracted and reached for more as he spoke. “I want to travel. It just doesn’t work out so well.”
“Why not? You got legs.”
“But not money.” The confession felt too bald out loud, so Sam sipped at his water and shrugged, trying to make light. “I’m busy enough with work and school. Maybe someday.”
“Maybe so,” Mitch agreed, and sipped his beer.
Damario came and replaced their empty chip tray, and Sam dove in before the waiter set the bowl down.
Mitch picked up his menu again. “Hell, Sunshine, I can’t decide what to order. What are you getting?”
“Two tamales.”
“There’s a combo with tamales? Where?” Mitch frowned. “I don’t see it.”
“I’m not ordering a combo.” Sam pointed to the à la carte menu. “There are a few dinners with tamales,
Mitch was already poring over the menu. “Okay, I wanted burritos, but now I can’t make up my mind. Jesus, it all looks good.”
Sam’s stomach growled as he scanned his own menu. Paychecks weren’t until the end of the month, and he’d borrowed five bucks from Emma so he could order à la carte. “They have combination plates, and then some bigger dinners that have variety.” He reached over to point out the section to Mitch. “More expensive, but you get a lot of food.”
“A lot of food sounds good.” Mitch squinted at the page. “Sunshine, this isn’t expensive. You should see what they charge for this sort of stuff in L.A.”
“You’ve been to Los Angeles?” Sam didn’t bother hiding his wistfulness.
“I’ve been just about everywhere.” Mitch kept reading the menu. “But I get out west a lot.”
“Las Vegas?” Sam was surprised when Mitch’s face shuttered.
“Not in awhile, no. But I am heading west, generally, in a few weeks, after a quick run east.”
“Do you go all over? All the time?”
“I do deliveries on contract, and I try to stagger them so I get around pretty much everywhere. I hate sitting too long in one place.”
The waiter appeared and asked how they were doing and what they wanted to drink. It was Damario, one of Sam’s favorite waiters, and Damario looked hopeful when he saw Sam. Mitch ordered a Bohemia with some relish. Sam eyed the margarita menu longingly but asked for a glass of water. Damario’s expression fell. He knew when Sam started with water he’d get an order of less than five dollars and a tip of about fifty cents.
When the waiter put down the bowl of chips, Sam’s stomach growled so loudly he worried Mitch had heard. He quickly scooped up a few of the chips, not even bothering with the salsa in an effort to get something into his stomach. He realized in hindsight he should have eaten a few spoonfuls of peanut butter before coming.
Sam dipped chips two at a time into the dish of salsa. “That’s kind of cool how your company sends you so many places.”
“I don’t work for a company.” Mitch waited until Sam cleared the bowl a second time before taking a more modest serving of salsa for himself. “I operate independently, one gig at a time. Sometimes I contract out for a bit.” Mitch nodded thanks at the waiter as he brought their drinks. He eyed Sam’s glass of water with open criticism. “Not a drinker, huh?”
“No, I—” Sam shifted awkwardly in his chair and clutched at his glass. “I only wanted water tonight, is all.” He took a drink and reached for more chips.
“You travel much?” Mitch sipped at his beer. “Got a favorite part of the country?”
“I haven’t gone much of anywhere.” God, he was so hungry. Had he eaten lunch? “I got as far as Minneapolis and Chicago for school trips, and when I was six, Mom took me to the Black Hills, but I don’t remember much of it. Otherwise it’s been Middleton with a few trips to Des Moines every now and again.” He ate more chips, telling himself these would be his last for a while, but he got distracted and reached for more as he spoke. “I want to travel. It just doesn’t work out so well.”
“Why not? You got legs.”
“But not money.” The confession felt too bald out loud, so Sam sipped at his water and shrugged, trying to make light. “I’m busy enough with work and school. Maybe someday.”
“Maybe so,” Mitch agreed, and sipped his beer.
Damario came and replaced their empty chip tray, and Sam dove in before the waiter set the bowl down.
Mitch picked up his menu again. “Hell, Sunshine, I can’t decide what to order. What are you getting?”
“Two tamales.”
“There’s a combo with tamales? Where?” Mitch frowned. “I don’t see it.”
“I’m not ordering a combo.” Sam pointed to the à la carte menu. “There are a few dinners with tamales,
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