Dove
My jaw must have been dragging behind us on the road from how shocked I was. I couldn't believe it. This whole time. This whole time Bucky knew how to speak Portuguese! That must have meant he knew a little bit of Spanish!
He had allowed me to suffer with trying to remember English words for the past four months. I felt like hitting him so I did. "¡Charlatán! ¡Eres latino! ¡Mentiste!" I yelled after hitting his shoulder with playful aggression. (Spanish: You charlatan! You are a Latino! You lied!)
He let out a nervous laugh and fiddled with his sunglasses a little with his free hand as he drove. "No sé de qué estás hablando." (Spanish: I don't know what you're talking about.)
He even had the accent when he spoke! The Texan accent just seemed to magically fly out the window at that moment and his sexy levels just shot up to the moon.
My throat became dry. Not only had I scored myself a cowboy but a Latino as well! The culture difference wasn't as far as I thought.
