Read Online Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 by Heidi Cullinan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heidi Cullinan
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though.”
Mitch gave him a long, hard look. “That’s all you’re getting?”
“I’m not really hungry,” Sam lied. When Mitch indicated the rapidly emptying bowl of chips, Sam fought like hell not to blush.
Mitch opened the menu to the dinner section. “Well, if you were hungry, what would you get? Help me make up my mind.”
Sam moved his water and leaned over the booth. “Number one and number two are both really good. If you’re after tamales, though, you want number six. Or eight, but eight is pretty small. Though it has enchiladas, and their enchiladas are to die for. But if you still want burritos, get number three and ask them to swap the chalupa for a tamale. They charge most people to switch, but they won’t because you’re with me.”
Mitch ran his finger down the list of entrees. “What about this steak fajita?”
Sam’s mouth started to water. “That’s good too. Huge , though.”
Damario reappeared with his pad and pen at the ready. “Are we ready to order, amigos ?”
Mitch spoke before Sam could. “I’m gonna get the steak fajita, but get me a burrito to go too—just wrap it up in foil or something and put it in a bag.” He glanced at Damario as he pointed at the menu. “Sunshine here’s having number six.” Sam sputtered, but Mitch ignored him and continued speaking to Damario. “What’s he usually drink when he comes here?”
Damario scribbled madly and, Sam knew, trembled over the tip potentials. “My amigo Sam usually has a strawberry margarita. A large.”
Mortification allowed Sam to find his voice. “Mitch, you can’t—”
Mitch still ignored him, looking at Damario with irritation. “ Deja esta mierda de ‘amigo’. No soy un pinche gringo quién te necesita besar el culo. ”
Sam blinked, speechless again. Mitch had rattled off what sounded to Sam like perfect Spanish. Damario blinked, then replied in the same tongue. Sam didn’t know what he said, but Damario’s tone was lighter now, less kiss-assy. Sam listened to them, ignorant and more than a little jealous.
“Why did you do that?” he asked when Damario left with the menus.
“Sorry.” Mitch didn’t sound sorry at all. “I hate it when they pull that amigo shit. I know it strokes all the white-boy egos and gets more tips, but that ain’t me. I grew up in the Rio Grande Valley, and it sets my teeth on edge to be treated the same as the assholes they mock.”
“I meant why did you order for me?” Sam frowned. “You’re from Texas?”
“South Texas. I could spit over the border. My first boyfriend was Mexican, and he taught me his ‘valley Spanish’. It’s kind of a perversion of both English and Spanish, but it comes in handy sometimes.” He took another swig of beer. “As for your dinner—” He pointed with his beer bottle at the chips. “I ordered for you because you’re starving. I’m buying, so let it go.”
“I just— It’s awhile to payday…” Sam gave up and hunched his shoulders over his water.
“Don’t worry about it.” Mitch winked at him, and when Damario returned with the margarita, Mitch pushed it in front of Sam. “Drink.”
Sam did. Even with the chips, he felt the alcohol screaming through his system. He was almost glad for it, and he drank a little faster to hurry himself to the place where the tequila would take all the edges off his day. “Thank you,” he said, when the alcohol softened him enough.
Mitch pulled the phone from his pocket. “I figured out how to make the music work after a bit of fiddling, but what’s this about video? That movies? You can put movies on this thing?”
“Yes, but I don’t have any loaded yet.” Sam carefully took the phone from him and scrolled through the cover art. “You can get the whole Internet though, anywhere. That’s what I love about it. It has a GPS, and so many cool apps. And my music, of course.”
“You got good music on here. I don’t know half of it, but I liked it.”
Sam tried not to
Mitch gave him a long, hard look. “That’s all you’re getting?”
“I’m not really hungry,” Sam lied. When Mitch indicated the rapidly emptying bowl of chips, Sam fought like hell not to blush.
Mitch opened the menu to the dinner section. “Well, if you were hungry, what would you get? Help me make up my mind.”
Sam moved his water and leaned over the booth. “Number one and number two are both really good. If you’re after tamales, though, you want number six. Or eight, but eight is pretty small. Though it has enchiladas, and their enchiladas are to die for. But if you still want burritos, get number three and ask them to swap the chalupa for a tamale. They charge most people to switch, but they won’t because you’re with me.”
Mitch ran his finger down the list of entrees. “What about this steak fajita?”
Sam’s mouth started to water. “That’s good too. Huge , though.”
Damario reappeared with his pad and pen at the ready. “Are we ready to order, amigos ?”
Mitch spoke before Sam could. “I’m gonna get the steak fajita, but get me a burrito to go too—just wrap it up in foil or something and put it in a bag.” He glanced at Damario as he pointed at the menu. “Sunshine here’s having number six.” Sam sputtered, but Mitch ignored him and continued speaking to Damario. “What’s he usually drink when he comes here?”
Damario scribbled madly and, Sam knew, trembled over the tip potentials. “My amigo Sam usually has a strawberry margarita. A large.”
Mortification allowed Sam to find his voice. “Mitch, you can’t—”
Mitch still ignored him, looking at Damario with irritation. “ Deja esta mierda de ‘amigo’. No soy un pinche gringo quién te necesita besar el culo. ”
Sam blinked, speechless again. Mitch had rattled off what sounded to Sam like perfect Spanish. Damario blinked, then replied in the same tongue. Sam didn’t know what he said, but Damario’s tone was lighter now, less kiss-assy. Sam listened to them, ignorant and more than a little jealous.
“Why did you do that?” he asked when Damario left with the menus.
“Sorry.” Mitch didn’t sound sorry at all. “I hate it when they pull that amigo shit. I know it strokes all the white-boy egos and gets more tips, but that ain’t me. I grew up in the Rio Grande Valley, and it sets my teeth on edge to be treated the same as the assholes they mock.”
“I meant why did you order for me?” Sam frowned. “You’re from Texas?”
“South Texas. I could spit over the border. My first boyfriend was Mexican, and he taught me his ‘valley Spanish’. It’s kind of a perversion of both English and Spanish, but it comes in handy sometimes.” He took another swig of beer. “As for your dinner—” He pointed with his beer bottle at the chips. “I ordered for you because you’re starving. I’m buying, so let it go.”
“I just— It’s awhile to payday…” Sam gave up and hunched his shoulders over his water.
“Don’t worry about it.” Mitch winked at him, and when Damario returned with the margarita, Mitch pushed it in front of Sam. “Drink.”
Sam did. Even with the chips, he felt the alcohol screaming through his system. He was almost glad for it, and he drank a little faster to hurry himself to the place where the tequila would take all the edges off his day. “Thank you,” he said, when the alcohol softened him enough.
Mitch pulled the phone from his pocket. “I figured out how to make the music work after a bit of fiddling, but what’s this about video? That movies? You can put movies on this thing?”
“Yes, but I don’t have any loaded yet.” Sam carefully took the phone from him and scrolled through the cover art. “You can get the whole Internet though, anywhere. That’s what I love about it. It has a GPS, and so many cool apps. And my music, of course.”
“You got good music on here. I don’t know half of it, but I liked it.”
Sam tried not to
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