He glanced up at the waitress. “Morphine. A double.”
“Ha-ha,” she said.
“Try the tea,” Carter suggested.
“I’m not quite that bad. Yet. Coffee, regular.”
“Ha-ha,” she said.
“Try the tea,” Carter suggested.
“I’m not quite that bad. Yet. Coffee, regular.”
Bed of Roses
________________________
Are you searing hot with a dollop of syrup?
Or are you more on the frothy side with lots of whip?
We're talking coffee orders, naturally.
Coffee-shop stops are a must
when anyone goes on the road, so we got a little curious about
what kinds of signals you give out when you order your freshly ground
with Haribo peach gummy (yes, it's a thing).
________________________
“I didn’t ask how you take your coffee.”
“Oh. I don’t suppose you have two percent
milk.”
“I often wonder why anybody does.”
With an easy laugh that shot straight to his
bloodstream, she wandered over to study the view outside the glass doors that
led—as she’d suspected—to the rear portion of the circling deck. “Which also
means you probably don’t have any fake sugar. Those little pink, blue, or
yellow packets?”
“Fresh out. I could offer you actual milk and
actual sugar.”
Blood Brothers