Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance) (3 page)

Chapter Three

"—And I'd love to take you out sometime," Vernon
finishes.

"Oh! Yes, that would be lovely," I reply, caught
off guard. He hands me his cell phone and I type in my number. I feel my cheeks
flush, wondering if Boone is still observing me. "Well, I'll talk to you
soon," I say with a polite smile, and head toward the house. I glance
around, but Boone is nowhere to be seen.

I quickly locate the bathroom that Lynn was talking about,
and she opens the door after I knock. "I met your brother," I tell
her as I sit on the closed toilet. She lights the joint and takes a hit, then
blows the smoke carefully out the open window. "I think we're going to go
on a date."

"Yeah? What you and Boone Tillman?"

"There is no me and Boone Tillman. Though
actually..." I pause as I inhale the smoke. "Maybe this sounds
conceited, but I thought I saw him looking at me outside."

"Doesn't sound conceited at all," Lynn replies. I
smile. She has such a refreshing straightforwardness.

"Really? Not that anything ever could happen, even if
he were interested in me. My father would absolutely die! I'm still his sweet
little daughter. What about you? Seeing anyone?"

She grins. "There's a girl. But she's a little weird
about the fact that I'm not out to my family. God, it feels good to be able to
talk about this with someone around here."

I laugh. "I'm glad you're here, too. The girls I used
to know in high school were so...proper."

"It's funny, you seem proper at first, but here you are
smoking a joint with me in the bathroom!"

I wiggle my eyebrows. "I have a well-developed
disguise." Lynn takes the last hit, and I stand up so she can toss the
butt in the toilet. "Oh man, is it obvious what we've been doing?" I
ask, glancing in the mirror.

"No, no, we're good. We're so good," she giggles.
"I'll go first." I nod and take a deep breath as she heads out. I
intend to count to sixty, but I get distracted about halfway through. Figuring
it's been enough time, I open the door and peer out. It's quiet in the house,
though I can still hear the party from outside. I wander over to the fireplace,
admiring the woodwork, then glance over to an open door to my right. There's a
rope in front of it, but it's not like I'm going to steal anything...

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I slip inside. The lights
are off in here, and I take a second to let my eyes adjust. Before they fully
can, I hear voices coming from behind me, clearly headed into this room.
Shit.
I panic, and duck behind a heavy damask curtain next to the window. Just as
I step behind it, I hear the door shut, and then the sound of heavy breathing.
A smile spreads across my face as I fight back the giggles.

"Boone, you promise you're gonna call me
tomorrow?" a plaintive female voice asks.

"Of course, darlin'," comes his deep-voiced reply.
I slap my hands over my mouth, but I can't prevent it. A loud guffaw bursts from
my lips.

"Oh my god, there's someone in here!" the woman
cries. "I'm so embarrassed!" I fight to hold back more laughter as I
hear her rush out the door. There's a pause, and then the click of a lamp being
turned on. Light peaks in from the sides of the curtain, and I bite my lip.

With a
whoosh,
the curtain is pulled aside. Boone
stands in front of me, a frown cutting across his tanned forehead. As he sees
me, a look of surprise registers across his face, and then confusion.

"Sorry," I gasp, before I'm taken over by another
set of giggles.

"Just what exactly is so funny?" he asks, his arm
still raised above his head, holding the curtain back.

"That line...
darlin'...
" I try to explain.

"You don't think I was telling the truth?" he
asks, raising his eyebrows.

"No one in this room thought you were telling the
truth. She just wanted plausible deniability, so later when she tells her
friends she won't sound like she gave away the milk for free."

"
Plausible deniability?"
he repeats, mouth
open. "Who are you?" he asks, leaning forward and peering at me.
"Have we met before?"

"I've seen you around," I reply cagily. As I
finally get a deep breath of air, I start to realize how close to each other
we're standing, and how delicious he smells. He's even better looking up close.

"You're high," he realizes, and a grin slides
across his face, dimples appearing beneath the short scruff on his cheeks. I
shrug. "Well, at least someone's having fun at this thing."

"You're not?"

"Well, I was
trying
to." Transfixed by his
golden, hawk-like eyes, I don't see his hand move forward, but my lips open as
he slides it gently around my waist. He leaves it there for a moment, moving
just his index finger back and forth, and I fight to keep my breathing even.
"Why don't we get out of here?"

Holy shit. Boone Tillman wants me.
But still...
"You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"You were just in here with another woman!"

"So another night, then."

"Can't," I breathe, even as my whole body aches to
just press a little closer to him.

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions," I reply. Between the
pot and my proximity to him, my head is spinning. He raises his eyebrows.
"It's complicated." I lean out of his grasp and head for the door
before my will power completely breaks down.

"At least tell me your name," he presses me,
turning toward me at the door.

I smile wryly. "You'll figure it out soon enough."

The door opens just as I reach out my hand. "No one's
supposed to be in here," says the women with the clipboard.

"Sorry about that. Just got turned around." I step
out quickly, before she can register Boone in the room behind me. When I reach
the front door of the house, I waver. Should I head back to the party? It just
doesn't seem like the right time. I don't want to have to meet Boone officially
with my father looking on, and his date beside him. I don't know if my system
could handle it right now.

I continue out the door, inhaling the fresh air with relief.
A walk home is exactly what I need. My mind is still a little fuzzy, but I
think I'd have trouble comprehending what just happened anyway. My waist is
still tingling where he laid his hand. And he looks
good
. So good it
makes my body ache just thinking about him. There was something almost too
pretty about him when he was younger, but now his features have settled into
ruggedness. I wonder if later on tonight, he'll realize who I am, or maybe my
dad will mention something at the office.

I giggle to myself as I head down the sidewalk. Even though
nothing could ever happen between Boone and me, it's still incredibly
validating to know that he wants something to. My teenage self would hardly
believe it.

Chapter Four

I blink blearily at my oatmeal. I've dreamt of Boone for the
last three nights, waking up after each torrid dream in a tangle of sweaty,
cotton sheets. It's like I'm going through withdrawal after being in his
presence for a mere five minutes.

"Did the Dunleaf boy call you yet?" my father asks
from across the breakfast table. It's strange to be up with him, both preparing
for work.

"Not yet," I sigh, wishing I hadn't told him that
he'd asked me out at all.

"Well, make sure you call him back in a timely manner.
His father is the mayor, you know."

"You've mentioned it," I reply grumpily.

"Never hurts to have another politician on your
side," he says.

"I'm friends with the Dunleaf
girl
, you
know," I say, taking another bite of oatmeal.

"They have a daughter? Huh, they don't talk about her
much."

"I bet."

"You are in a
mood
, this morning," my
father remarks. "First day of work jitters?"

I sigh. "Maybe a little."

"Well, if you'd used my name, then you wouldn't be
starting as just an intern."

"Dad, I want to earn my way up, not just have it handed
to me because they want your business." He smiles, and I frown.
"What?"

"Oh, nothing. You're not the only one with
secrets." I stare at him as he stands and puts his bowl in the sink. That
can't be good.

* * *

With only one call to the IT department, I finally have my
computer up and running. I glance around the office furtively, wondering how
I'll fit in here at Upland Designs. The HR representative who showed me around
seemed nice, but now she's back in her office.

I'm seated with the creatives. The big bosses are the floor
above us, but down here the higher-ups have offices around the sides and the
assistants and interns, like me, sit in glass-walled cubicles in the center. I
stare up at my name plate, printed in neat, block letters and hung on the wall of
my cubicle: Callie Keene. It has a nice ring to it, but I'll have to get used
to using my mother's maiden name. Not that anyone is likely to refer to me by
my last name anyway.

I glance into Charlie's office. He's my direct superior, but
he's been on the phone ever since we first met earlier this morning. I want to
be proactive, but I'm not sure if it's alright for me to ask other people what
I should be working on. I open my Outlook, and consider emailing Lynn.

"Nothing to do?" I jump as Charlie appears behind
me.

"I didn't want to disturb—"

"I'm on my way to a meeting with a new client. You
should come, see how it all works. Don't say anything, and sit in the
back."

"Right."

"Notepad?" he asks, raising his salt-and-pepper
eyebrows as I begin to follow him empty-handed.

I turn back and fetch a pad and paper from my desk,
marveling at how quickly I seem to have started off on the wrong foot with my
boss. I follow him silently to the stairwell, and we walk one floor up to a
large conference room with views of downtown. Charlie sits on one end of the
long, Lucite table, and I split off and find an empty chair in the corner.

Before long, the conference room has been filled, though the
head chair and the one next to it remain empty. I open my notebook, remembering
my father's instructions to make myself useful in whatever way I can. Other
people have notebooks, too, but maybe Charlie would find it helpful if I take
detailed notes and then email them to him later.

The room goes suddenly quiet and I glance up as the people
around the table stand. I peer through their bodies and freeze as I see Boone
walking through the doors. Martha Horne, Upland's steely Creative Director, is
shaking his hand, and motioning him and his assistant toward the head of the
table.
Shit
. If I thought meeting Boone at the party would be awkward,
this is ten times worse. I should have just pulled off the Band-Aid.

Martha is greeting Boone and telling him how excited Upland
is to have a chance to work with such an old Savannah company like Woodall
& Sons. I slide down in my chair and force myself to take notes like I
intended.

"Well, I'm glad to be here," Boone says with a
smile. I glance toward Martha and am surprised to see her blush. Seems no woman
is immune to his charms. "I've been trying to get the Woodall of Woodall
& Sons to rebrand for some time now, but he's resisted until just
recently."

I frown. That's what my father meant by having his own
secret. He only decided to rebrand after I got this job. He just couldn't resist
the urge to interfere in my life.

"As you may already know," Boone continues,
"Woodall & Sons is a third-generation construction company, and I
don't want to erase the past. Our customers like tradition, and they like the
feeling that they're hiring a company they can trust. With that said, we've
grown over twenty percent every year for the last six years, so we're also a
modern, technologically advanced company that is expanding rapidly. I'd like
our new logo and website to reflect that duality. Roots in the past, but with
the foresight to compete in today's world."

I smile as he finishes speaking. Without notes, and without
seeming preparation, he held the room rapt. No wonder he's proven to be such an
asset to Woodall & Sons. My father may have the name, but I wonder if Boone
is the real substance.

"And I should mention that we are under a bit of a time
crunch. We'd like to unveil the new branding in concert with the waterfront
property, 100 River Street, that we're building on the Savannah River. It'll
have condos, retail spaces, and a performance space, and it's set to open in
just a few months," Boone adds.

"Well, we have a wonderful team here ready to help you
accomplish that goal," Martha says, sweeping her hand across the room. I
have to force myself not to cover my face with my notepad as Boone glances
around. My cheeks redden as his eyes linger on mine for just a moment too long.
He smiles like a predator that's just spotted its lunch.

"Martha, it's important to me to know the people I'm
working with. Would it be alright if we went around the room, and had everyone
introduce themselves?" Boone asks politely, though of course Martha has no
choice but to acquiesce.

"Wonderful idea. Charlie, why don't you start?" I
watch Boone's calm face as the line works its way down toward me. Is it my
imagination, or is he smirking just the slightest bit? By the time it's my
turn, I've managed to chew through two of my perfectly manicured fingernails.

I stand. "Callie Keene, intern," I say. Boone nods
politely, but his eyes are dancing wickedly.

He winks at me. I almost faint.

Thankfully, the meeting gets underway, and he makes no
further notice of me. But as the meeting ends, another hurdle arise. I'm stuck
all the way in the corner and Boone is standing at the head of the table right
by the door, shaking hands as people file out. Despite my best efforts, I'm the
last person out.

"Callie, is it?" he asks as I reach him.
"Give us a minute, will you?" he says to his assistant.

He steps out, and I look worriedly toward the stairwell,
where Charlie is looking back for me. "People are going to get the wrong
idea," I murmur.

"This Saturday. 2pm. Meet me out on Skidaway
Island."

"My boss is watching us," I tell him. "I
don't want him to think—"

"Better say 'yes' quickly then," he says with a
grin, and I feel my insides, and my willpower, melt at the sight of those
dimples.

"Well, I guess—"

"3pm at the stables. See you then." He reaches
forward and brushes my hand with his fingertips, so quickly and softly that I
wouldn't even be sure that it happened, except my skin feels like it's on fire.
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and to give Boone a chance to get to the
elevators, then head out to the stairs. I give Charlie a faltering smile as I
see he's waited for me.

"Just wanted to make sure you find your way back,"
he says quietly. We head down the stairs. He waits until we're standing back by
my cubicle to speak again. "You're acquainted with Boone Tillman?" he
asks, his face devoid of expression.

"Not really, no. He knows my father."
Shit.
I
want to be as honest as possible, but why did I bring up my father?

"Ah," he says. He pauses, and I worry he's going
to inquire further, but he turns abruptly and heads back into his office. I
realize I'm clutching my notebook to my chest and I unclench my fingers and sit
down.