Southern Seduction

by Alcorn, N. A.

  She finally puts the files back in their folder and then places it on my desk. Before she can say anything, I hear her stomach rumble. She smiles sheepishly at me.

  “I guess I better feed you,” I tell her, standing up, gesturing for her to come with me.

  A look of uneasiness crosses her face, but she doesn’t decline. She gathers up her things and I lock the office door behind us.

  “It’s just dinner, Cheyenne,” I tell her, hoping to put her at ease. I’m relieved when I see her shoulders relax, and I lead her towards the elevator. “I haven’t been out in downtown Atlanta recently. What sounds good to you?”

  Surprising me, she suggests going back to her place. “My roommates went back to California for the weekend, and honestly, after this long week, I want nothing more than to slip into my sweats and order some Chinese takeout. Does that sound okay to you?”

  “Sounds perfect, although I’ll be a little overdressed in my suit,” I tease her, and my heart swells when she grins at my comment.

  “I might be able to raid Bryan’s closet to find something suitable for you to wear. Suits and veggin’ on the couch don’t exactly go hand in hand though, so you’ll have to make do with whatever I can find.”

  “I have no problem with that. Hell, half the time I hang out in my birthday suit, so you know I’m comfortable with anything,” I say jokingly, sighing with relief when she smiles back at me. “I just want to hang out, Cheyenne. To get to know you again. Is that really such a hard pill to swallow? We started out as friends a long time ago, and I don’t see any reason why we can’t be friends again. I promise, no funny business. I just want to spend time with you when you don’t have your nose stuck in a sales report or production analysis.”

  She seems to consider my words as we ride the elevator in silence. When we get to the ground floor, she turns to me. “Oh, what the hell. You’re right. Plus, we’ve been working together just fine. I don’t see any reason why we can’t be friends again. In fact, I’d like that, Sawyer.”

  Thank Christ. I was all prepared to beg. Hearing her finally admit that we could be friends is a relief. Does part of me wish we could be more? Hell yes, but I’ll take what I can get for now. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not looking to get involved romantically with her. I’m not sure my heart could take it, but there’s just something about her. I’m as drawn to her as I was before, and at the end of the day, I can’t get her off my mind. I think I’ve spent more late nights in the office this past month than I have since I started working there.

  “Friends it is,” I agree, shooting her a smile that she returns. “Want me to follow you?”

  “Sure, but let me write my address down for you just in case. You never know how the crazy Atlanta traffic will be,” she says, pulling a pen out of her purse. “I’ll go ahead and call in an order so I can pick up. Anything specific you want?”

  Before I can answer, she hands me her address, and my heart flips like she’s just handed me the winning Powerball lottery ticket. She has no idea what she’s just done by allowing me to find out where she lives. She mentioned once that she lives in Five Points, and while part of me wanted to crack into her employment info, I was able to stop myself. As much as I wanted to know exactly where in the neighborhood she was, I figured breaking tons of ethics guidelines was the wrong way to go about it.

  The thing is that I also live in Five Points, and one of my favorite taverns is right in the heart of the neighborhood. I won’t lie; I have found myself going there more often this past month than usual, hoping to possibly catch her out sometime. I know, I know. It sounds creepy and stalkery, but you try going six years without seeing the first girl you ever loved and then having her suddenly show back up again. Seeing her just at work hasn’t been enough, so if I have to resort to stalker-like methods—albeit unsuccessful ones—then that’s what I’ll have to do.

  “Sawyer? Dinner? I know Shiloh Grove wasn’t exactly crawling with Chinese restaurants, so I have no idea what you’d want,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. We’re standing in the middle of the lobby, and she’s looking at me, waiting for my answer. I’m trying to suppress the huge grin that wants to spread of my face at the thought of sitting in her apartment, alone, getting to know her again. “Sawyer!”

  Dammit. I realize I still haven’t answered her, and she’s looking at me like I have two heads. “Sorry, I just had a thought. Get whatever you want. I’m not picky.”

  “If you say so,” she replies, and we leave the building and walk towards the parking garage where we get in separate cars. I open up the favorites tab in my GPS and plug her address in, hoping that it’ll get a lot of use in the future.

  Cheyenne was right when she commented on the traffic. I lost her not long after we left the office. Instead of going straight to her place, I made a detour to grab a bottle of wine. Hey, friends can share a bottle on a Friday night, right? Now that I’m knocking on her door, I’m not so sure and I hope she doesn’t read more into it. I’m second-guessing my decision when she opens up the door and I watch as her eyes widen when she takes in the sight of me. I happened to have a gym bag with fresh clothes in it in my car, and I grabbed it, not exactly wanting to wear some other guy’s clothes. Her eyes run up and down my body as she takes in the sight of me standing here in a suit with the bag slung over my shoulder and a bottle of wine in my hand. Yeah, this probably looks wrong.

  “Make a pit stop, Callahan?” she asks, and I don’t miss that she still hasn’t invited me in.

  Shrugging, I try to act as cool as possible. “I had clothes in the car and figured a nice red would go well with dinner. It’s been a long week and you’ve been working your ass off. I figured we could end the week on a high note. Just sit back and relax. No big deal, Cheyenne.”

  She raises her left eyebrow like she doesn’t believe me, but she swings the door open and gestures for me to come inside. I follow her as she leads us to an open kitchen, where she has placed a couple of plates and several cartons of food. Grabbing the wine from me, she gets out a wine key and opens it before pouring two glasses.

  I take a moment to check her out when she’s not paying attention. She’s wearing grey yoga pants that cling to her ass, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to kill me. The tiny white tank top that covers her upper half is almost see-through, and yeah, she’s definitely trying to kill me because I can tell she’s not wearing a bra. When my eyes trail down her legs, I can see black ink on the top of her bare foot. I smile, seeing that tattoo, remembering how she freaked out when I first suggested one. I move in a little closer to get a peek, and my smile falls when I see what the tattoo is of.

  Clearing my throat, I struggle to tear my eyes away from her. “Is there somewhere I can change? This tie is stifling. I like to get out of them as soon as I can, and I don’t wear anything but jeans, t-shirts, and shorts for the entire weekend,” I tell her, loosening my tie, more than ready to get comfortable. Standing here in her kitchen talking about undressing feels strangely intimate, and part of me is wishing that she was the one doing it for me.

  “Oh, of course. You can go in the bathroom. First door on the right. Or if you want more space, my room’s at the end of the hall. You can change in there if you want. Feel free to grab a hanger out of my closet, too, so you don’t get your suit all wrinkled up,” she says, and I’m surprised that she’s offering for me to go into her personal space, let alone her closet.

  “Thanks. I think I’ll take you up on that.” I walk down the hall and find her room, not surprised that it’s completely spotless. She’s always been meticulous and almost obsessive about having a clean room. I think it stems from all those years she spent doing the household chores instead of her mom.

  Slipping out of my shoes, I change quickly. I feel a little weird going into her closet to grab a hanger, but she did offer. I’m about to close the door when something catches my eye. Bending down, I pick up a small notebook that’s resting on the floor of the closet. I’m not sure if it fell or
if it was already there. I want to open it, yet I know I shouldn’t. The best way to get myself kicked out of here is for her to catch me snooping. It could be nothing, but it could also be private, so I listen to my conscience and set it back down.

  I move over to her desk, which is covered with sketches. Leaning in to get a closer look, I’m surprised when I see that they’re all drawings of swallows. I guess I really shouldn’t be, as it was always her thing, and suddenly I feel like an ass for throwing it in her face that day. I can’t tear my eyes away from the sheets of paper. There are probably twelve or so drawings here, and every single one is practically the same. In each drawing, there’s only one swallow, never two or more.

  Just as I’m about to pick one of the drawings up, I hear a throat clear behind me. “Umm, Sawyer? What are you doing?” I hear Cheyenne ask, and I turn around, seeing her watching me from the doorway.

  “Uhh, sorry. I was just checking out your drawings. I didn’t know you still did it,” I admit, figuring that I might as well be honest since she caught me.

  She shrugs and gestures for me to follow her. “I stopped for a while. I didn’t get to do a whole lot of bird watching during college. I guess something about being back in Georgia inspired me to start back up again. Come on. I’ve got dinner all dished out,” she says, walking out of the room.

  I’m trying to process her admission, and I wonder if I have anything to do with why she’s drawing swallows again. Even further, I wonder if I’m the reason she’s drawing lone swallows. Is there some part of her that still cares about me? That remembers how good we were together? If so, I need to do whatever I can to tap into that part of her, but I have to do it delicately or else she’s going to just run away.

  Snapping out of it, I follow her down the hall and find her in the living room, where she’s set everything up.

  “I figured we could eat in here and watch T.V.,” she says, turning on the television and flipping through the channels to find something to watch. I’d honestly prefer to talk, but if she needs it on for background noise, I’m okay with that.

  She settles on a rerun of some action flick as we dig into our dinners. I figure I’ll start out easy, so I ask her about school. Her eyes light up as she tells me about her four years at Berkeley, and I don’t miss that she never mentions her mom or coming back to visit. While I’ve gotten a little closer with my dad since I graduated college, I still haven’t really warmed up to Sylvia and I never felt comfortable asking about Cheyenne, so I never knew how or where she was. Hell, for all I know, Sylvia might not have known either.

  “What about you?” she asks as she licks her fork clean. “How was the rest of your time at Auburn?”

  “Pretty uneventful. When I got back that fall, I decided to switch my major. I had to bust my ass to catch up so I could graduate on time. I spent the next couple of summers going back to the farm and helping Wyatt out. I still go back whenever I get a chance.”

  She looks at me in surprise. “You still go back to Shiloh Grove?”

  Setting my plate down on the coffee table, I turn so that I’m facing her. “Of course I still go back. Wyatt taught me a lot that summer about responsibility and becoming a man. I owe him for everything. Plus, I like hearing the stories about my mom that he tells. I feel like I’ve gotten to know her more, too. And it doesn’t hurt that all that hard work still helps shape my bad-ass muscles,” I say, grinning at her, and she smiles back at me warmly.

  “I guess that makes sense. Sometimes I wish my dad hadn’t been an only child. I don’t have anyone to talk to about him, and it gets lonely, you know?”

  “Lonely? Yeah, pretty girl, I know exactly what you mean,” I whisper, sliding closer to her on the couch so that only about half a foot separates us.

  “Sawyer,” she whispers, sounding sexy and slightly nervous.

  “So you got a tattoo, Cheyenne?” I ask, wanting her to confirm what it is. She nods, and I sit back. “Let me see it.”

  I watch as she swallows hard, but she does as I ask. Bringing her foot up onto the couch, she sets it down in front of me. I slide her pant leg up so her foot is fully exposed, and I inhale sharply when I see that she really does have a swallow tattoo on the top of her foot. I look up at her, and see that she’s watching me nervously, biting her lower lip. She pulls her foot away from me and slides it under her, not letting me get a closer look.

  “When did you get this?” I have to know, to find out if it means anything to her like it does to me.

  “My first week of school,” she admits, and I’m caught off guard. That would’ve only been a week or so after she left me. What does that mean?

  “You got a swallow tattoo right after you left me? Right after you left home?”

  She nods, and I notice the tears in her eyes. “Sawyer, you know that wasn’t home for me. You also know how much swallows mean to me. It just made sense. I may not have had a home, but every time I looked at the swallow, I felt home. I felt you.”

  My heart’s racing as I listen to her finally admit that she felt something for me. That when she left, she still wanted me. “Yeah, pretty girl. I remember how important they are to you. I remember all of it, and it’s haunted me for years.”

  I watch as a couple of tears spill onto her cheeks, and when I lean in to wipe them again, I hear her breath catch. Looking down into her eyes, I see the emotions she’s fighting, and I’m tired of letting her push me away.

  I start to lean in, and just as my lips brush hers, she closes her eyes. At first, she doesn’t kiss me back, and I don’t force it. My lips softly caress hers, and I wait patiently for her to give in. It’s not long before I can feel her lips pressing back against mine as she slips her arms around my neck. We kiss slowly, and I savor the taste of her lips on mine. She surprises me when she parts them and her tongue moves against my lips, breaking them apart so she can find my own. Her arms tighten around my neck as she pulls me in closer, her tongue working mine over furiously, as if she’s been starving for this, for me.

  Finally. Finally, it all makes sense. The appeal of the swallows and the legend. Because right now, kissing Cheyenne, having her in my arms again after all this time, is just like she said. It feels like coming home, and I realize that time and distance haven’t done a damn thing to change my feelings for her.

  As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I feel her lips leave mine as she pulls away from me, removing her arms from around my neck. We’re both breathing heavily, and before I let her say anything, I lean in and press my forehead against hers. “Don’t, pretty girl. Don’t get all in your head and start pushing me away. I know you remember, too. How good we were together. How good we could be again.”

  She closes her eyes, sighing, and I wish I knew what she was thinking. Or how to get her to stop thinking. “You’re my boss, Sawyer. This can’t happen.”

  “Why do you always find an excuse for us not to be together? First it was our parents. Now it’s our jobs? It’s not that big of an issue. We can figure it out when it comes to work,” I tell her, knowing I probably sound like a desperate pussy. Well, I kind of am right now, at least where Cheyenne’s concerned.

  She pulls away from me, standing up, and I watch as she starts pacing the room. “Exactly, Sawyer. There’s always something in the way. Obviously, fate or the universe doesn’t want us together. We have way too much history between us, and I’m not going to risk my brand-new career over something that probably won’t work out in the long run. Please, let’s just keep this professional.”

  Fuck this. Crossing the room, I grab ahold of her arms and press her back against the wall. Before she can stop me, I lean down and kiss the fuck out of her, and I don’t miss the way she responds. When I pull away, I’m feeling smug and satisfied as desire flashes in her eyes.

  “Fine, pretty girl. We’ll play it your way. For now. You might think I’m not worth the risk, but I know better. And one of these days, I’m going to prove it to you, too.”

  Without saying anything
else, I push back from the wall and head towards the door.

  “Sawyer,” I hear as I open the door, pausing to turn and look at her, but she doesn’t continue.

  “Someone once told me swallows are together for life, and I’ve been holding on to that belief for a long damn time. Fate, the universe, whatever bullshit you want to believe in, Cheyenne. Whatever the hell it was, it brought you back to me and I’m not giving up without a fight this time.”

  March 2014

  Cheyenne

  What the hell just happened? I’m still watching the door, silently hoping that Sawyer changes his mind and comes barging back in to put up that fight he just promised me. Sliding down the wall, I lean my head back against it as I try to process everything that happened since we left the office. I have no frickin’ idea what I was thinking inviting him back to my place, especially with Cori and Bryan being gone. Sure, he’s been nothing short of a gentleman since the day he gave me that picture, and if I’m honest with myself, I can admit that it’s kind of been bugging me.

  After the initial holy-shit-Sawyer-Callahan-is-my-boss reeling subsided, I actually found myself enjoying working with him on a daily basis. He’s extremely intelligent, and whatever Wyatt did to him that summer apparently worked because he’s one of the hardest working executives I’ve ever met. Instead of relying on his department to do everything for him, he’s a very hands-on boss, and I can tell that his employees respect him for it. I know I do.

  He never asked me what I did with that picture, and I’m glad I had the fortitude to hide it before he got here. I’m still wondering where he got it and what it means that he’s been keeping it in his office for who knows how long. I’d tried to convince both Bryan and Cori that our working relationship was fine and that there was no way Sawyer still harbored feelings for me. Now I don’t know if I was trying to convince them or myself.