Page 97 of The Stud

“Northenameof the truck.”

To that she surrenders a small shrug.

Weak dub, but I’ll take it.

“Locating your father’s cousin’s food truck – post a failed google search – required shoving a mountainous amount of tequila and nachos into Wahl,” I unlock the doors for us to exit, “convincing him to text his half-brother whose momliveshere and then making sure he followed up with his brother to get the name of the truck as well as where it istypicallyparked.”

Mirth glimmers in her gaze. “So much work just to take me out for wings.”

“Thebestwings.”

“The best wings,” she echoes between snickers.

“And you are worth the work I put in, Arden.” Leaning slightly over mindlessly occurs. “Every. Time.”

Her lips brush against mine yet instead of slipping her tongue into my mouth – like I’m wanting – she coos, “I’m starving.”

Light laughs precede me delivering a quick peck. “Let’s get my Slayer fed then.”

The two of us exit her jeep and retrieve Bear together.

His excitement to sniff and guard and sniff everything in sight for the short distance over to the truck parked between two corner buildings adds unexpected elation to the moment.

Seeing her happy that he’s happy, has me happy at seeing her happy.

It’s basically one giant circle jerk of joy.

And easily becoming the best Christmas Eve, I’ve ever had.

Our arrival at the truck is immediately acknowledged by her relative who leans his jean jacket covered forearms onto the countertop. “Reserva para dos, ¿si?”

Arden open mouth chuckles at the male I’ve only been in contact with by email. “You don’t take reservations,Álvaro.”

“I do when it’sNochebuenaand Maria is steadily making wedding cookies and I’d prefer to be closed.”

“You’re closed?” Concern carves itself into her stare as Bear sits attentively between us. “The food truck is closed?!”

“For the holiday,” he warmly informs on a crooked grin. “I opened todayonlyforRomeohere. Between the cost he was willing to pay and the drive he was willing to make simply for you to have ‘the best wings you’ve ever head’, it was impossible not to.”

Arden’s fingertips sweetly cross behind Bear’s head to touch mine.

“The truck itself is doin’muy muy bein,though.” Pride expands itself in his expression. “We may open another next summer.”

“In Dalvegan?!” She teasingly pushes. “Because you know me and Dad alone could keep you in business.”

“Put it in the Locker District and you can easily plan for a third and fourth. Puckheads love wings.”

Our host extends his open palm towards me. “Álvaro.”

“Frosky.”

“Y él es de ese color,” he chortles, prompting her to do the same.

“I am notthatpasty,” I casually counter.

“You speak Spanish?” inquires the longer haired male.

“More like understand a bit of ‘Tex-Mex’.”

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