Then she frowned.
“You need a license to drive, and since you’re from the past, I don’t know what we’ll say if we get pulled over.”
Unsure of what she meant by a license, Callan was heartened to think she might be starting to believe him. A weaker man would be wounded by her disbelief, but he knew he would not have believed her if she had traveled to his time.
“Come on, we need road trip snacks. It’s tradition,” she said, voice bright. “Wait until you try a Red Vine in place of a straw in a bottle of Pepsi. Pure heaven.”
The bright lights and music, not to mention the smell of coffee, gas, and something so sweet it made his teeth ache, made him blink as they stepped inside the store.
There was so much to look at. Colorful packages held all manner of things he could not identify.
“What exactly is ‘road trip food’?” he asked, his curiosity piqued as he picked up a bag of beef jerky.
Daisy grinned, snatching the jerky from his hand and tossing it into a small red basket she carried on one arm.
“Things you can eat with one hand while driving. Jerky’s perfect. But there’s more to road trip food than jerky,” she declared, guiding him down another aisle.
“I only eat road trip food on a road trip, so it’s fun and you feel like it’s a treat.” She handed him another package, this one some type of meat stick along with a bright orange stick that she said was cheese, but he had his doubts.
“Wait until you try these.”
As Daisy paid for their sustenance with the card, he heard the bell above the door jingle as three men came in, dressed from head to toe in black leather. The motorcycles outside. One day, he would ride such a machine.
Before they left, Daisy showed him the bathing chamber, one for men and one for women.
“Would you walk Frankie so he can do his business? I’ll meet you at the van.”
She handed him the sack of food and drinks before pushing open a door that said women.
He took the sack of food and drinks to the van, put them away, walked Frankie, and then quickly returned to the door that said ’twas for men. The toilet was different than the one in Daisy’s home. It took him a moment to figure it out, and he was careful not to make eye contact with the other two men there.
The machine to dry his hands was loud and the way it pushed the skin around on the back of his hands made Callan jerk his hands back, drying them off on his jeans.
Once they were on the road again, Daisy handed him another sack she purchased.
“Do you like the Dr. Pepper?”
He had not liked the blue can of drink she favored, but this one tasted good, even if the bubbles tickled his throat.
“Aye, ’tis tasty.” He rummaged through the sack, coming up with a package containing jerky and the orange cheese. The jerky smelled of smoke and spices—a familiar scent that reminded him vaguely of smoked meats from market days long gone. He tore open the package eagerly and bit into a piece, chewing. The savory taste made him nod in approval. “This is delicious.”
Daisy laughed, watching him enjoy his first bite. “I knew you’d like the Slim Jims.”
When he took a bite of the cheese stick, he made a face. It did not taste like any cheese he had ever eaten before, but there was something about it that made him want more.
With a grin, she handed him a bright package. “Now, for something a bit different.”
“Gummy bears?” The bright colors made him hesitate as Callan eyed the squishy candies with suspicion, but seeing her eating them, he popped one into his mouth. The sugary sweetness, the chewy texture, and the feeling in his mouth made him spit it out into a napkin.
“Saints, that’s foul,” he muttered, reaching for the pepper drink to cleanse his mouth.
“Guess gummies aren’t for everyone,” Daisy giggled, eating another one, her blue eyes sparkling as she took a red stick and put it into her Pepsi, taking a sip through the red stick.
“Red Vines and Pepsi. Classic road trip food.” She grinned, sipping the drink. When he tried one of the vines, Callan gagged. “Disgusting.”
“Each to their own.” She shrugged and turned up what she called road trip music as they sped down the highway. His Daisy did not care for the signs telling her how fast she was allowed to go. She said ’twas more of a suggestion than a rule.
The lass had packed several of the brightly colored pillows from the apartment, some blankets, sheets for the bed, and several of her herbs, which were secured on a shelf with a tie to hold them in place. She had also insisted on bringing the coffeepot and tea kettle.
