Come and Get It cover photo and first chapter excerpt

 



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.