Chapter One
Dixie Rose Bonifay hadn’t been born in
Texas. She was a Charleston girl by birth, but when her mamma married her
daddy, he promptly moved his new bride back to Texas hill country as soon as
she gave birth. In her mind, that made her a native just as sure as if she’d
been born on the little ranch outside Junction, Texas.
She’d taken her first steps there,
learned to swim in the Llano River, raised her four siblings, and met and
buried her husband there. She had no desire to leave, no need to see the wide
world, and no use for the occasional real estate developer trying to separate
her from her property. No, Dixie Rose had planted her roots deep in the Texas
soil and nothing short of Armageddon could make her leave.
All the Bonifay siblings felt the same
way. All five of them. Rebecca Lynn and husband Jess ran the diner just off the
exit ramp from Interstate 10. Daisy Jean and her husband, Greg, ran the family
campground on the Llano and helped with the diner and organic vegetable patch.
The other two—Tamara and Bennett—ran the actual working part of the small
ranch. Tamara and Bennett were twins and eerily in tune with one another, a
fact that often amazed and irritated their siblings.
Out of all of them, Dixie was the only
one who had even an ounce of wanderlust, and that only translated to her mobile
catering business. Dixie liked to cook, and even though she’d gotten an online
degree in finance, she didn’t see any reason she shouldn’t cook for a living if
that’s what she wanted to do. There was lots of development in the area, people
settling in Kerrville and Fredricksburg, and construction workers needed to
eat. So, she used some of the insurance money her late husband left her, bought
herself a catering trailer and a big old diesel truck to pull it. A few
well-placed flyers later and she was in business.
* * *
Dixie pulled up at the job site half an
hour before the scheduled lunch break. She unbuckled the seat belt, then hopped
out onto the hard, dusty ground. Her first task was to open up the trailer and
get things reheating. Next, she climbed into the bed of the truck and hauled
out the portable tables and chairs she provided for her customers. The way she
saw it, the men worked hard for their money, and if they were inclined to give
her a portion of it, the least she could do was see to their relative comfort.
“Hey, Dixie,” Allen Godfrey called.
Allen was one of the foremen on this job and usually came out to help her set
up.
“Hey, Allen.” Dixie greeted him with her
usual smile. She’d known him most of her life and she liked him, despite the
fact that he’d spent most of his high school career trying to get in her pants.
But Dixie didn’t hold a grudge. After all, he was just a man, and men were
horny bastards by nature.
By the time the first pot of coffee
finished brewing, the tables were in place, covered with red and white checked
tablecloths, napkins, and condiments. Dixie handed Allen a cup of coffee and
joined him at one of the tables.
“What’s cookin’ today? Sure smells
good.”
“Spicy chicken gumbo with rice and corn bread
for the hot meal, then barbecue chicken and Caribbean jerk ham sandwiches,
turkey and corn salsa wraps, and Tex-Mex bean and turkey burritos. You hungry?”
Allen laughed. “You bet your pretty little
ass I am. How about a dish of the gumbo and one of the wraps?”
“Comin’ up, sugar.” She heard him sigh
as she walked away and knew he was watching her. They all did. Sometimes she
put a little extra wiggle in her step just to make them happy.
She climbed inside the trailer, ladled
up a good-sized portion of gumbo into a foam dish, and set it on the counter,
the corn bread muffin soaking up the sauce, just the way Allen liked it. She
put the wrap on a foam plate, the tinfoil still covering it.
“Come and get it!” she said, flashing a
grin. Come and Get It was the name of her catering company, and all the guys
loved to see her lean over the counter and shout those words to them.
Allen stepped up to the counter and
grabbed his food. Behind him, the sounds of construction abruptly stopped.
“Well, here come the thundering herds, Dixie. I’d best get a seat while the
getting’s good.”
Dixie grinned and leaned over the
counter. “Come and get it!”
Business was brisk as usual. Dixie’s
talent as a cook and her naturally cheerful disposition combined to make her
little enterprise a success. She prepared healthy, good-tasting food, served up
generous portions, and did it all with a smile and pleasant conversation.
“Well, hey there, Hugh! What can I get
ya today, sugar?”
Hugh was a big man and he ate like one.
Before Dixie started serving food at the local construction sites, Hugh was a
heart attack waiting to happen. Now he was losing weight, building muscle, and
could outwork two men. “I’ll have some of that gumbo, Dixie Rose. And one of
those barbecue chicken sandwiches.”
“Comin’ right up, darlin’.”
Dixie turned away to fill his order but
kept on chatting. “How’s that pretty little girl of yours, Hugh? Daisy Jean saw
the wife and her up to Doc Spencer’s last Friday. Hope everything’s all right.”
“Aw, she’s okay. Just a case of the
sniffles,” the big man assured her. He opened his wallet and handed Dixie a twenty-dollar
bill when she swiveled around to hand him his food. He waved away her attempt
to give him back his change. “Keep it, honey.” He inhaled the delicious scent
of her gumbo and sighed happily. “Rita Mae says to tell you thanks for the
recipes you emailed her. She don’t cook this stuff near as good as you, but
she’s tryin’.”
“Well, good for her,” Dixie said, as the
next man in line stepped up to the counter. “Hey, Bubba, what’re you feelin’
like today, sugar?”
Bubba was a blusher and his face turned
bright red every time Dixie so much as looked at him. She found it inexplicably
charming. “Some of that gumbo’ll do me just fine, Miss Dixie. And could I have
an extra corn bread muffin with some of your special honey butter?”
“You sure can, honey.” Dixie filled his
order quickly, and took his money. The longer Bubba stood there gaping at her,
the more the fellows would tease him, and she figured he took enough ribbing as
it was. Thirty years old and he still couldn’t control his pecker. Even now his
dick was probably harder than a steel pipe.
The rest of the crew ordered their food,
paid for it, and took their seats at the tables. Conversation lagged as the men
ate their dinner. Dixie circulated among them filling up glasses with sweet
tea, and pouring coffee, occasionally stopping to swap tall tales with one of
her customers.
One by one, the men pushed away from the
tables, disposing of their trash in the receptacle she provided for them. They
stood around talking about men things, mostly having to do with work and
trucks, and women. One might bend Dixie’s ear for advice on how to handle a
touchy situation with a girlfriend, while another would discuss the merits of
diesel versus gasoline. Dixie could speak knowledgeably on a variety of
subjects that interested her customers.
“Shit, here comes Nelson,” Hugh
grumbled, dumping his trash in the can.
“Now, I thought you liked ol’ Nelson,”
Dixie said, hand on her hip.
“I don’t mind Nelson none. It’s that
asshole that’s with him. No offense, Dixie Rose.”
“None taken, sugar.” Dixie watched the
two men walking toward them. She’d always considered Nelson a big man, but he
looked like one of Santa’s helpers compared to the fellow next to him. And,
whoa mamma, was he fine. F-I-N-E fine, can I get an amen? “What’s his problem?”
Dixie whispered to Hugh.
“He’s the architect. From Los Angeles,
California.” Hugh had done the perfect imitation of former California governor
Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Dixie couldn’t help it. She let out a
whooping laugh, prompting everyone to look at her, including hot architect guy.
Still laughing, she gave Hugh a hip bump and lowered her voice. “I’ll be back,”
she said, and laughed as sweet tea sprayed from the big man’s mouth.
* * *
“Who’s the bimbo?” Quin asked, watching
as Dixie made her way back to the catering trailer. He had to admit she was a
pretty little thing with a wealth of silky blonde hair and a figure that
rivaled any of the old masters’ nudes.
Nelson Olmstead winced. “Best not let
any of these boys hear you talk like that about her. Ain’t a mother’s son of ’em
wouldn’t walk barefoot across broken glass to protect that little gal. Hell,
I’m half in love with her myself.” He rolled up the blueprints he’d been
holding and clasped them under his arm. “Hardworkin’ little thing. Raised three
sisters and a brother after her folks passed. Got herself hitched to a local
boy who up and got himself killed over in Iraq.”
“So she decided to run a Roach Coach for
a living? Ambitious.”
Nelson laughed. “Son, have you always
had your head so far up your ass?” He chuckled again at the shocked look on Quin’s
face. “She and her sisters got themselves a little organic truck farm over to the
other side of Junction. Two of the girls run a little roadside diner and
vegetable stand, while the twins do a little ranchin’. Dixie Rose is
single-handedly responsible for improving the eating habits of half the
construction workers around here.” He lowered his voice so no one else could
hear. “Hell, she’s got ’em eatin’ tofu and they don’t even know it.”
“So, this is your way of telling me the
food’s safe to eat?”
Nelson slapped him on the back. “You’ll
think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Hey, Nelson, what’s it gonna be today?
I got those Caribbean jerked ham sandwiches you like so much, and Daisy Jean
sent along some of her special soup for ya.”
“Sounds like just the ticket, Miss
Dixie.” He paused and then introduced Quin. “This here’s the architect on the
job. Name’s Quin Halladay.”
The woman had plastered on her best
customer relations smile. “Welcome to Texas, Mr. Halladay. What can I get you
to eat?”
A
full order of you, spread-eagle on a platter. He
nearly blurted the words out, then remembered what Nelson had told him about
the crew’s fondness for the woman. The dark sunglasses allowed him to check her
out without seeming to be disrespectful.
She had the kind of body that made a man
itch to touch her. Full bosom, tiny waist, just enough curve to her hips so a
man could hold on tight. Then there was that firm, heart-shaped ass.
“Is the chicken in that gumbo free-range?”
The bimbo rolled her eyes. “I only use
domesticated fowl, Mr. Halladay. They scratch around some but they’re penned up
at the end of the day.”
He lifted his shades. “And why is that?”
“Well, aside from the pretention factor,
I’d have to say bird flu. Scientists have performed DNA tests on blood slides
of soldiers that died of the flu back in 1918 and discovered a link to bird
flu. Get ya some gumbo?”
Quin gritted his teeth to keep from
laughing. By God, she was a sassy little thing. “Gumbo would be fine, Miss . .
. ?”
Dixie flashed a smile and a wink at
Nelson. “Reckon he’s hard of hearin’, too?” She leaned down, resting her elbows
on the counter. “Name’s Dixie, sugar. Dixie Rose Bonifay.”
Quin’s jaw dropped. His company had been
trying to buy the Bonifay ranch for years and they’d flatly refused to
entertain any offer. If he wasn’t mistaken, five mil was the latest figure, and
the head of the company was willing to go as high as ten. “The Dixie Rose
Bonifay? You own the ranch land out on the Llano River?”
Dixie eyed him suspiciously. “That’d be
me, sugar. You want some dinner or not? ’Cause if you don’t, I need to be
closing down. This ain’t the only construction site on my route and I gotta get
a move on.”
“Yeah. I’ll try the gumbo.” He pulled a
ten and a business card out of his wallet and handed her both. “Keep the
change.”
Quin frowned when Dixie served him a
steaming dish of gumbo, a corn bread muffin, and slid his change and card back
across the counter. He didn’t care for the contemptuous look she gave him
either.
“Sorry, sugar. I don’t need your change
or your business card.” She went to the door and opened it. “Last call for
refills, y’all!”
Quin watched as Dixie poured refills and
went back into the trailer. Without being asked, the men broke down the tables,
tied off the trash bags, and stowed everything in the back of Dixie’s Ford
F-350. She thanked them graciously, retracted the awning on the outside of the
trailer, and closed up shop.
Fascinating. Without a doubt, she was
the first woman in years who had never even given him a second glance. He
smiled as he walked back to his truck. That wouldn’t do at all.
