Page 54 of The Pass Protection
“I’d never.”
A few moments later, the waiter appears with glasses of water. Sitting them down in front of us, he smiles and welcomes us. “What can I get y’all?”
Bret twists so her attention is on the older gentlemen. “We are first-timers, and I’m dying to try a puffy taco. Can I get three beef tacos with lettuce and tomato and a side of rice?”
The waiter nods as he writes down her order before turning his attention to me. “I’ll do two beef, one barbeque, and one chicken puffy taco with rice, beans, and french fries.”
Bret quirks an eyebrow at my order. “I’m starving.”
Our waiter leaves, and we scan the room. It’s a unique space with antique jukeboxes, artwork, and even an old car on the inside.
“If you could have any food for the rest of your life, what would it be?” Bret leans her elbow on the table, head resting on her hand as she stares at me. Her eyes are alive with a light I’ve never seen before.
Tapping my fingers on the table, I ponder all of my options. “Damn, that’s a tough one. I guess I’d say a burger.”
“Really?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Yeah, I mean, you can fix it up in so many ways. Add a fried egg for breakfast, load it with lettuce and tomatoes for lunch, and slather on the barbeque and bacon for dinner. The possibilities are endless.”
“Valid point.”
I tip my head toward her. “Your turn.”
“Smothered burrito,” she answers without hesitation, and I laugh at how fast she says those two words.
The waiter arrives, and our conversation pauses as he sets down the multiple plates. The savory smell immediately hits my senses, and my mouth salivates. The tacos are piled high with meat, lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese.
“These look amazing.” Bret’s eyes widen as she reaches for a taco. Mouth wide, she shoves the tortilla into her mouth and moans around the bite as shreds of lettuce and pieces of tomato tumble onto her plate. I’m stuck watching her, mesmerized by how she doesn’t hold back. Bret Campbell is a girl who likes her food. Just don’t ask her to cook it.
A few hours later, Bret and I find ourselves below the street level as we meander around the San Antonio Riverwalk. Tourists bustle along the crowded sidewalks, milling in and out of stores, stopping to gaze at colorful murals, or sitting at cement picnic tables. Popular chain restaurants and bars line the buildings as bridges take you to and from each side of the river.
“I’ve got a question for you.” Bret tilts her head in my direction from where we are walking hand in hand. “What’s the funniest joke you know by heart?”
I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Damn, Rebel, you’re really putting me on the spot today.”
Moving us off the walkway, I pull her into me so that her back is to my front as we watch a boat pass by. She rests her head against my shoulder as we enjoy the silence. Leaning closer to her ear, I whisper the joke. “Why do quarterbacks tell obvious jokes?”
I pause and wait. Bret takes a moment before she shakes her head. “So they don’t go over their receivers’ heads.”
A giggle bubbles out of her as she turns in my arms. “Oh, Crew, that was terrible.”
“Yeah, but it got you to laugh.”
“That it did.” Bret leans up on her toes and gives me a quick peck on the lips. We both smile at each other, and I’m glad I was able to steal her away for the day.
“My turn. If you could spend the day with three people, dead or alive, who would they be and why?”
“Shit, you thoughtyouwere put on the spot.” Bret nibbles her lips as she ponders the question.
The two of us lean against the metal railing, basking in the late afternoon sun as smells from the many restaurants filter around us. Soft music plays from the speakers attached to light poles.
“Mac Miller, so I can thank him for being a musical genius and for his lyrics, which always get me out of my head, Paul Walker for blessing us with the Fast and Furious franchise, and Pat Summitt for being an icon in women’s basketball.” I hum. “I just realized all of those people are dead, which is terribly depressing.”
“You picked some great people to meet.”
She smiles. “What’s next?”
“Ice cream.”
