Watchdogs

When Taylor Quinn walked into Bernie’s restaurant, he immediately spied the blonde wearing a green turtleneck sitting in one of the booths. So that must be the owner of the red Cougar out front, he thought. Clarkesville, Georgia, was a small town: Everybody knew everybody and any new vehicle that came within a few miles of the town stood out like a tux on a steamy, jungle river boat ride.

“Who’s our heart stopper?” he softly asked Betty, the waitress on duty.

“Ain’t she the cutest?” Betty said. “I think she’s gonna start teaching at the middle school next week. You know, Rhonda’s going on maternity leave. Should be here with us at least three months. Maybe more if Bart gets his way.” She poked Taylor in the ribs. Bart Spencer was the county superintendent of schools and was tagged by insiders to be partial to blondes.

“Bart’s way don’t interest me,” Taylor said.

“Well I’m surprised!” Betty said. “Want me to introduce you?”

“Will she bite?” Taylor asked.

“If you’re lucky,” Betty answered, taking Taylor by the hand and leading him toward the blonde’s booth.

“Hi Lyn, this is Taylor. Old friend of mine. Taylor’s one of the nastier watchdogs here in Clarkesville. I’m showing him to you now, honey, so you’ll be forewarned. You’ll thank me for it later.” The three of them laughed. Taylor concocted a pseudo-cough. Betty rolled her eyes at Lyn.

“This is a coincidence,” Lyn said, “cause I’m certainly a dog lover. If you want a cup of coffee, Taylor, have a seat.” Taylor slid into the booth slowly.

“I should’ve known I’d make more work for myself,” Betty said. “Coffee coming up. Well, give me five minutes.”

“You’re a teacher?” Taylor asked.

“I’m working on it,” Lyn said. “It isn’t something you become overnight, you know. What do you do, if I may ask?”

“Of course,” Taylor said. “Mainly I spend my old man’s money. I did manage to get a law degree though.”

“Get?” Lyn asked.

“Earn,” Taylor corrected himself. “First thing in my life I couldn’t buy.”

“There’s always a first time or a first thing,” Lyn said. “Do you steal with a number two pencil?”

Taylor laughed. “When I run out of ink, I don’t have much choice!”

Betty appeared with the coffee. “Now let’s not get too cozy with each other on the day of introduction,” she teased. “Let me know if you want pie or something.”

“My dad’s a lawyer,” Lyn said. “I know all about them.”

“Oh really now,” Taylor said. “Then I’d better speak with the side of my tongue that isn’t forked.”

“To put it mildly,” Lyn said.

“To put this mildly,” Taylor said, “would you like to have dinner or something, say, tomorrow night?”

Lyn smiled. “I could be interested,” she said, “if you promise to keep that nasty side of your forked tongue away from me.”

“Promising is easy,” Taylor said, “but having conditions sometimes causes a person to miss out on a lot of fun.”

Lyn raised her brows, but didn’t say a word.