Chapter 2 #2
“Umm,” she said as she gave the guy a long look. “Uh, no that’s not him. Although this one’s pretty hot, too.”
She got closer and after a second leaned back with her mouth pursed. “Maybe this truck is run by part-time models, because damn.”
I just shook my head, but didn’t comment, because she may have been on to something.
Carmen talked as she glanced in the direction of the service window. “The guy I saw was about the same age, same height, but not so bulked up. More of a swimmer’s build, short black hair, fine as hell. But nope, looks like he’s not here.”
I lifted a shoulder and glanced toward the truck again, before I turned to Carmen. “Maybe he just came to bring the truck up here, creep people out at the gas station, and has headed back home.”
Carmen laughed distractedly at my bad joke, still in the midst of an intense text exchange.
“Does Ted want us to get him something?”
Carmen and her husband, Ted, were both foodies and got extremely excited about any new food offerings in town. He was from Kansas but had lived all over Latin America for years before and after he met Carmen. He also spoke perfect Spanish and was a devoted enthusiast of all Latin cuisine.
“No, he’s at a luncheon with some guest speaker, but he’s asking a million questions about the burritos and wants to try them ASAP. I told him he’s got to come down from that ivory tower once in a while and join us for lunch.”
Ted was a professor at Cornell and spent a lot of time on campus. Although Carmen made sure he took a breather from the scene up there as much as possible.
“I’m sure this truck will be at the Farmers’ Market at some point this summer. If not, we can ask them where they’ll be. They probably have an Instagram account where we can keep track of them.” She nodded again, her eyes focused on what she was tapping on her screen.
The line was moving pretty fast and soon there were only three people in front of us. There was music playing in the truck and I could hear Spanish coming from the back.
After high school, I lived in Honduras for a year and my Spanish got pretty good while I was there.
Over the years I made an effort to practice it as often as I could, so I still could speak and understand it pretty well.
I was too far away to make out what they were singing but was loving the music coming over the little speakers they’d set up at the counter.
Some of my favorite artists were Latinx singers, so when a record I loved came on, I bobbed my head along with the music.
I must have gotten distracted by the song, because when I looked up, I came face-to-face with “gas station guy.”
My heart almost leaped out of my chest when I saw him grinning at someone inside the truck. If possible, he looked even better than the first time I’d seen him.
I felt a nudge on my shoulder as I stood there gaping.
“Oh shit, that’s the guy.”
I was having trouble making words, so I didn’t answer Carmen.
It seemed like he was taking over for the other guy, who I saw walking away from the truck with a backpack on his shoulder.
When I stepped up to the counter he didn’t see me right away, but as soon as he turned around, his eyes lit up with recognition.
“Wow, three times in less than twenty-four hours. I had a feeling I’d see you again, Mr. NPR.”
He gave me another once-over as he took a pencil out of his apron pocket and held his pad up, ready to take my order. Like I wasn’t going to ask about the supposed second time he’d seen me.
“Three times? When did you see me a second time? Also, it’s pretty rude to laugh at people for no reason. Creepy, actually.”
He threw his head back and laughed, then winked at me like that could fix it.
“I did say I was sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, it was just, when I saw your shirt, it sort of sunk in I was in Ithaca.”
“Sure, that makes total sense,” I said with an eye roll.
He pointed in the direction of the library, “I saw you walking in there this morning, while I was setting up.”
The grin he was flashing in my direction was activating all sorts of feelings in my body.
“I’m a librarian.”
His eyes twinkled at my incredibly vague answer, then gave me an appreciative look. “I wondered.”
I was not totally sure what was happening, but I wasn’t going to hold up the line to continue awkwardly flirting with him, even if he was a smoking hot, very tall man.
“Never mind.” I waved my finger in the direction of the menu and tried to give him a businesslike look. “Could you please tell me about these? There are a lot of things I love happening here, but I’ve never had them in a burrito.”
He flashed me a devastating smile and said, “I thought you’d never ask.” He rubbed his hands together as he talked, making the muscles in his arms bulge.
“All our burritos are inspired from Afro-Caribbean flavors. El Mayimbe, I named after Fernando Villalona, my mom’s favorite merengue singer.”
Getting the rundown of a burrito menu should not be this erotic.
“On that one we hit you with white rice, Dominican style red beans, beefsteak Criollo with sautéed onions, caramelized sweet plantains, Mi Abuelita’s slaw and avocado slices.”
Carmen let out a squeal from behind me at his description.
“If you want to go with Cuba, you want La Lupe, which is named after my favorite Latina singer.” He preened at that. “It’s comes with killer Cuban black beans, Cuban shredded beef, caramelized sweet plantains, and hot and spicy pickled onions.”
He smiled again and leaned on the counter a little bit when he was done. I was already sweating and hadn’t even ordered my food. “We also have the tostones topped with queso crema, cilantro pesto, and sweet-and-sour pickled shallots.”
This time I could not help myself and a moan escaped my mouth. “I love tostones.”
That rakish smile was going to be my undoing.
“That’s what I like to hear. We also have a sweet corn pudding with a passion fruit glaze for dessert. It’s a small offering, but these are some of our most popular items and a great intro to our food.”
He lifted an eyebrow at me in question. “So, did I tempt you with anything?”
If only you knew, “gas station guy.”
I nodded and tried once again to sound unaffected. “Definitely, everything sounds delicious. I’ll have the Lupe and an order of tostones. Oh, and the Yerbabuena lemonade.”
He kept staring at me with a weird smirk on his face, like he found me infinitely entertaining. After a second, he started jotting down my order.
“Excellent. Can I get your name so we can call you when the order’s ready?”
I widened my eyes at his perfectly reasonable question. This elicited yet another semi-filthy smile.
I had no idea what he found so damn amusing. “It’s Jude, Jude Fuller.” Why did I give him my full name like a dork?
“All right, Jude Fuller. I got you.” Those winks of his were lethal.
Carmen stepped up to give her order after shooting me an amused look, and immediately asked, “Can we do this in espanol or what?”
“Claro, aquí se habla espanol.”
Another wink.
I was starting to wonder if he had a condition.
“?Excelente!” Carmen held up her hand to him for a high five—so extra—and proceeded to tell him what she wanted in rapid fire Spanish. When she was done she jerked her thumb over her shoulder.
“Just put my order under Jude’s name.” She held up her phone at him. “I need to make a call, so he’ll get mine, too.”
Liar.
He beamed at her and gave me a thumbs-up.
“It’ll be ready in a few, guys.”
With that he turned his attention to the next people in line.
Once we were out of earshot Carmen started talking excitedly, her hands all over the place.
“See! I told you he was Dominican! I knew a man so fine could only be produced in the DR.” She smacked her lips.
Loudly. “He sure was staring you up and down, too. You’re so funny.
” She cackled and shook my arm. “And of course he thought you were adorable. Oh man, if the food’s good, we’re making this a regular stop. ”
I angled my head in genuine confusion, because adorable was not what I’d been going for. Finally, my brain came back online, and there were questions.
“Wait, how did you find out he’s Dominican? You were only standing there for like thirty seconds.”