Page 58 of Cream and Punishment
Max angled his head in curiosity. “You speak Italian?”
I blushed. “Only a few phrases I picked up from my Nonna. The language and a lot of her culture kind of died out after she moved here to marry my grandpa.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Max nodded his understanding before gesturing to his friends. “Dekker, these are the owners, Cendy and Luis.”
He addressed them next, presumably introducing me in Spanish.
Cendy said something, and though I didn’t understand the words, I caught the gist of it. The knowing gleam in her eye and the smirk on her lips when she looked at me gave her away long before the suggestive eyebrow wiggle she sent Max. Then she gestured around her head.That, I wasn’t sure how to interpret.
His cheeks darkened like they’d done earlier, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t obsessed with him like I was. He shook his head and waved her off, whatever he said making her laugh as she and her husband walked away.
“Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They don’t speak much English, but they’re great people. Salt of the earth types.”
“They seem really nice.” The language barrier was a bit of an issue as far as knowing what else to compliment about them, but he clearly cared about them, and I trusted his judgment. “They likeyou, so they have good taste at least.”
“Or questionable taste, depending on how you look at it.” He winked and passed the sole menu on the table to me.
I hesitated before accepting it. “Don’t you need this, too?”
“Nah, I come here so often I think I’ve got the whole menu memorized.”
I unfolded it and stared blankly at it, the options overwhelming. Each food had the English translation written under the Spanish name, but that did little to help. Knowing what the concept of a plantain was and actually knowing what it tasted like when cooked various ways were two entirely different things. And then there was the pressure of knowing Cendy would be back soon to take our orders that seemed to make my brain forget how to read.
This was exactly why I googled restaurant menus before I went anywhere.
“Uh, in that case” —I set the menu on the table— “what should I order?”
He rested his chin on his hand thoughtfully as he regarded me. “Let’s see. You mentioned that you and garlic were best friends, so I’m gonna recommend thecamarones al ajillo.”
He pointed to the garlic shrimp on the menu, but I barely noticed. I was still in shock over the fact that he remembered me mentioning how much I loved garlic.Ididn’t even remember telling him that, yet it sounded exactly like something I’d say. Probably while rambling over lasagna after trauma-dumping on him.
The epitome of romance, that’s me.
“Yep, that sounds good.” I lifted the menu back up so quickly I nearly smacked myself in the nose with it. “What are you getting?”
“I’m feelingcarnita frita—that’s fun to say, isn’t it?” He chuckled to himself. “It’s fried pork. And thenmofongoon the side.”
“Mofongo,” I repeated, testing the foreign word out on my tongue. According to the menu, it was mashed fried plantain with garlic and fried pork. “Sounds intriguing.”
“It’s pretty different from American food, but it’s great.”
I wasn’t convinced yet, but if he liked my baking, his tastes couldn’t bethatbad, right?
I folded the menu and gestured around the quaint establishment. “You said you come here often?”
“Practically every week since I found it, yeah.” He shrugged one massive shoulder. “It reminds me of home, I guess. I spent a lot of my childhood at myabuela’shouse outside of Miami. She grew up in the Dominican Republic and went to great lengths to make sure her children and grandchildren never forgot where we came from.”
I slid my purse off and set it on the booth seat next to me. “She sounds like a great woman.”
“Oh, she is.” He smiled and pursed his lips in the direction of the hilly landscape mural. “Tougher than me, too. She worked in one of the sugar cane plants on the island, and I swear she could beat me in the yearly Bureau fitness exams to this day.”
I snorted, immediately slapping my hands over my face to conceal the noise.
His eyes twinkled as he cocked his head to the side. “Why do you do that?”
Barbecued chicken gizzards, just kill me now.
I scrunched my eyes closed and covered them with my hands, wishing Cthulhu would spring forth out of the floor and eat me whole. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. Maybe it’s a deviated septum or something. I know it’s not very ladylike—”
