Page 7 of Rugged Fox

Kati Whitlock was just as beautiful now as she had been when I saw her earlier that day. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. Kati looked like she wanted to hide under the table and everyone around us was glancing back and forth. That's when it dawned on me.

"You might be right. This could be all my fault."

"Who's the broad?" Hendrix nodded his head in Kati's direction.

I pushed his shoulder in hopes that it would stop him from staring. "Come on. Let's grab a seat and I'll explain."

My buddy Aaron raved about the club sandwiches in this place and I wasn't about to miss out just because our base of operations was in a small town where everyone knew everyone else's business. At least, that's what I assume all the glances were about. It wasn't like I’d given Willow Creek residents another reason to talk about me. I had been in town less than a week, and until today, I hadn't gone anywhere except my apartment, the hardware store, and the office.

We took a booth in the back corner, where I faced the front door and had a clear view of Kati. It was hard not to look at her and wonder what was running through her mind. After the way our meeting started, I fully expected her to tell me she didn't want to hire our company, so I was surprised when she didn't say no right off the bat.

"Do you plan on telling me who she is, or are we spending the whole dinner with you drooling over the girl?"

"I'm not drooling," I snapped before I could think better of it. I recognized my mistake immediately.

"Sure you're not." Hendrix laughed. "And I'm the King of England."

I should've asked any of my other team members instead of Hendrix to join me for dinner. Hendrix had the don't give a fuck attitude that drove most people insane. There wasn't a single thing that rattled my friend and Hendrix was known to say whatever the hell popped into his head, no matter how it sounded to others.

"Screw you."

I wanted to say more, but a woman who looked to be as old as my mother walked up to the table. "So which one of you boys is the reason our Ms. Kati's face is as red as the tomatoes on my infamous BLT club?"

I couldn't remember the last time someone had referred to me as a boy.

"Ms. Kati?" Hendrix wiggled his eyebrows. "So the girl has a name."

"Shut it," I muttered.

"That must mean you're the stud Ms. Daisy was going on and on about." The older woman didn't hide the fact that she was looking me over. "I must say, she wasn't wrong when she said you were one fine specimen of a man."

"Ah, thank you?" I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Talking to people had never been a problem for me before, but there was something about the way this older woman was looking at me expectantly that put me on edge.

"Good Lord, where are my manners? My name's Bertha, but everyone in town calls me Foxy Bee. I'm the lovely owner of this fine establishment." She waved her hand around.

An older gentleman in the booth behind Hendrix coughed out a laugh and turned around to face us. "No one in town except old man Tim down at the Service Station calls you that. And we all know why he does."

If I thought the old woman would blush at the accusation, I was sadly mistaken. I knew I was in trouble when she waggled her eyebrows at us. "I might look like I'm gettin' on in age but I assure you my cooch is still in the prime of its life."

It was a good thing she hadn't served us any drinks yet. I would've spit mine all over the table, no doubt.

"You sly fox . . ." Hendrix brushed his fingers along Bee's arm. "Good for you."

"I can tell you're going to be my favorite." Bee winked back. "What can I get you boys to drink?"

We both ordered sweet teas and watched as Bee walked away. I'm pretty sure the woman put an extra swing in her old steps just for us. I'm not sure if I liked the woman or not, but now I understood how the diner got its name.

"I can see why Aaron loves this place so much. The eccentric part of the sign outside makes sense." Hendrix turned around in his seat and gave the place a once-over.

I looked around the diner as well. Eccentric was an understatement, and I didn't just mean the specials for the day listed on the menu board. I don't think a single table or chair in the place matched and forget a theme. It was almost like when something broke, Bee found a replacement on the side of the road and just tossed it in here. Yet somehow it worked. The bold splash of colors throughout the place mixed nicely with the subtle wall colors. Every decade and fashion sense, from the time Bee was a teenager, looked to be represented.

"The decor certainly matches the owner’s personality. I wonder how long she's owned the place."

"Sixty-two years. Bee opened it on her eighteenth birthday," the same gentleman who spoke up before answered. He turned around and put his arm over the back of the booth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but . . ." The man shrugged his shoulders.

Basically meaning he wasn't sorry for exactly what he was doing.

"And you are?" I swore I'd seen his face before. The gentleman was older than me, but not quite as old as Bee. If I had to guess, I would say mid to late sixties and likely worked hard his entire life, based on the calluses on his hands.