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“Fries.”
“Shoestring, wedge, or waffle?”
“Shoestring.”
“Spicy, savory, or salty?”
“Salty.” I smiled. “Any other questions?”
He leaned forward. “What color is your underwear?”
“Nice try but no dice,” I said in mock admonishment. “You haven’t earned the privilege of knowing.”
“Damn. This is what I get for trying to seduce a smart dame.”
The platinum blonde came out from around the counter and approached our table. She wore a pair of tight jeans and a white tank top that showed off the cherry blossom tattoo winding up her right arm.
“Hi, Boxer,” she greeted.
“Hey, Freddy.” He reached across the table and took my hand, linking his fingers through mine. “Meet Dr. Linden Ward, the woman who saved my life.”
Freddy’s blue eyes lit up and she smiled, and before I knew it, she was leaning down and enveloping me in a side embrace. “Thank you so much.”
I shot Boxer a confused look, but said to Freddy, “Oh, yeah. Sure thing.”
Freddy pulled back and hastily turned her head, but she couldn’t completely hide that she was swiping a hand across her eyes.
A moment later, she faced us again. Her lashes sparkled with tears she’d failed to rein in.
What the heck?
“We’ll have three chili dogs, one order of salty shoestring fries, and two grape sodas,” Boxer said.
“Grape soda?” I asked.
“Trust me. It’s the best.”
“Nah, orange is the best,” Freddy countered.
“One of each,” Boxer relented. “Then Linden can choose.”
“You got it.” Freddy left to put in our order.
“You know her,” I said to him when we were alone. “You come here a lot, then?”
He skimmed the back of my hand with his thumb, causing tingles to erupt along my skin.
“I got her a job here,” he said. “About three months ago. I pop in every now and again to make sure she’s doing okay. She’s a nice kid. A good kid.”
Freddy returned with two glass bottles of soda and two straws. She set them down in front of us, then reached into the short green apron tied around her waist and pulled out a small plastic cup and placed it on the table.
“Food should be up shortly,” Freddy said. “Holler if you need anything.” She left again and then went to check on the only other occupied table in the place.
“You called her a kid,” I said, picking up our thread of conversation.
“Sheisa kid. She’s twenty-two.”
She doesn’t look like a kid to me.
