Nischal [leopard spots 9] by Bailey Bradford Page B

when Nischal finally looked at him. “It is. Lots of people can’t read or write, and they learn. You’re smart, and I don’t know Sabin, obviously, but I bet he’s sharp, too, and y’all can learn anything you want to. I’ll help, if you’ll let me.”
    Nischal didn’t answer, and Preston realised he’d completely stopped the vehicle in the middle of the road. Thankfully no one had come along and rear-ended him. “Can you grab a blanket out of the back to cover Sabin with? I don’t want to freak out the drive-thru worker or anyone else while we’re stopped. The windows are tinted, but better safe than sorry.”
    “Yeah.” Nischal crawled into the back seat again.
    Preston waited until he took his seat up front then he drove on over to the McDonald’s and got in the drive-thru line. “Do you want beef, chicken, fish or salad? Ice cream, shake, soda?”
    “Beef,” Nischal answered, licking his lips afterwards. “Lots of beef. Water to drink, please.”
    “Do you care what’s on it besides the meat?”
    “I wouldn’t know what I’d like, honestly. We didn’t eat at places like this, ever,” Nischal said, waving a hand at the sign.
    “Okay then, we’ll try half of them with mustard and half with mayo. You’ll surely like ’em one way or the other.”
    Preston ordered a dozen of the biggest burgers they offered. He got a few waters for Nischal and Sabin should he wake up, and coffee for himself. Maybe a shake, too, for his throat.
    “I’d also like a large chocolate shake, and two large orders of fries,” he added. “With plenty of salt, pepper and ketchup, please.”
    He listened as his total was given over the speaker then he pulled up to the first window and paid the bill. Nischal remained quiet, except for the occasional rumble of his stomach.
    “Thanks,” Preston told the peppy young lady handing him the bags of food. “Appreciate it.”
    “Y’all enjoy,” she replied.
    Preston handed the last of the bags to Nischal. “I’m going to gas the car up then eat a couple of burgers before we get back on the road. You go ahead and dig in.”
    Nischal tore open a bag and unwrapped a burger. Preston saw him take a huge bite. The moan that the man made sounded so sexual that Preston wanted to park the Murano and jump Nischal’s bones.
    Nischal was too thin, though, and Preston could control his hormones. Besides, there was the matter of Sabin in the back seat. It’d be too weird to have sex while Nischal’s brother snoozed away or, worse, watched.
    “S’good,” Nischal muttered around a mouthful of food.
    “Try the French fries,” Preston suggested. “Salt them if you want. Pepper ’em, too. There’s ketchup—” He shut up. Nischal was scarfing down the fries like they were ambrosia. They kind of were, in Preston’s opinion, when the fries were hot and fresh.
    He parked beside a gas pump. “I’ll be right back. If you need to use the restroom, now’s your chance.”
    Nischal didn’t answer as he shoved more fries in his mouth. Preston chuckled and unfastened his seatbelt. He might have just created a McDonald’s addict.
    The gas pump was one of the annoyingly slow kinds that kept clicking off. By the time he’d filled up his tank, he was tired of slapping away June bugs and mosquitoes. He took his receipt from the machine and got back in the car. “I hate bugs.”
    “They don’t taste near as good as this stuff,” Nischal said.
    Preston didn’t think he was joking, and the idea that Nischal had at some time been hungry enough to eat any kind of bug was heartbreaking.
    “Here.” Nischal stuck a burger in front of his face. “We might need more. I don’t think there’s going to be any left for Sabin.”
    Preston was pleased at having given Nischal such an enjoyable meal—even if Nischal had eaten all four boxes of fries! “Yeah, we’ll go back through the line.” He wasn’t missing out on Mickey D’s fries.
    They drove until Preston was bleary-eyed and in