Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance)

by Celia Loren

  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.

  Chapter Five

  I can't believe I accepted a date with Boone Tillman. I never thought that he'd be interested in someone like me...an awkward teenage girl. Should I even be interested in someone who dismissed me so easily?

  Those words haunted me for years. I made it my mission to understand what makes a woman beautiful and elegant. Now I can hold a conversation with anyone, know just when to smile and when to playfully chastise. No one could accuse me of being an awkward teenage girl now.

  But sometimes it's almost like I'm two people. One that I've created to fit in, and one...well, one that I don't know as much. Can I really blame Boone for that, though? Hey, maybe I really am awkward!

  And the fact that he's interested in me now is so validating. When he looks at me, I get a high like nothing else I've ever felt. Even though he's my father's business partner, and even though he's a total player, I still can't wait to see him.

  I put a final flick of black mascara on my eyelashes, and head over to my bed to pull on my boots. I'll certainly be warm, but Boone said to meet him at the stables, so I'm assuming we're going riding. As I stand and walk to the door, my cell phone rings from my purse. I pull it out and check the screen. It's Vernon. I wince. He called last night and I forgot to call him back, and now really isn't a good time. I put my phone back in my bag and make a pledge to myself to call him back tomorrow, first thing. It isn't fair to keep him waiting.

  It's just a twenty-minute drive in my dad's old BMW out to Skidaway Island. I let my hand dangle out the window as I cross over the causeway. I know this route well; Mrs. Hunt used to take me out here all the time after school while my dad was still at work.

  I slow down as I reach the road to the stables and peer out the windows. I smile as I see Boone leading a stallion down from a trailer. Of course he wouldn't use the horses they have for the public. I park in the lot and give myself an appraising glance in the rearview mirror. I take just my keys, stuffing them into my front pocket, and leave my purse in the car as I lock the door behind me.

  "Handsome," I comment as I near Boone, who's petting the nose of the stallion.

  "Why, thank you," he replies as he turns around.

  "I meant the horse." Though the truth is, it could more than apply to him. I don't think he's ever looked hotter than he does right now, in just jeans and a white t-shirt. It reminds me of how he used to look when I first saw him, back when he was working on my father's construction site.

  "I know, but I'm taking it anyway. I brought Annalise for you," he says, nodding to the horse chewing on a low-hanging branch. I walk over and let her sniff my face before heading around to her side. "She might be a little tall but—" I stick one foot in the stirrup and easily swing my leg over her back. "So you're a ringer, huh?"

  I laugh. "I used to come down here almost every day after school to practice." Boone swings his leg over the stallion. "How'd you learn?"

  "My grandfather had a small farm, and this one old nag. I loved that horse. Come on," Boone nods toward a trail and I lean forward in the saddle. Annalise steps forward immediately, and soon we're walking next to Boone and his horse under the trees. The familiar movement of a horse underneath me takes away my nerves, and I stroke Annalise's mane as we go.

  "So you're just a lowly intern, huh?" he asks.

  "Well, you've gotta start somewhere, right?"

  "That's true enough. I started out working on one of the Woodall construction sites."

  I smile. "Is that right? How'd you make your way up?"

  "Oh, I was like a mosquito. Mason Woodall would try to swat me away and I just kept coming back. Finally he took a meeting with me, and the rest is history."

  I can't resist... "So, what do you think of him? Mason Woodall, I mean?"

  He grins. "Well, he's traditional, that's for sure. I take small steps, you know, computerizing one system there, streamlining shipments here. But he's been more than generous to me. Really like a second father." I wince, not wanting to think of Boone and I as related in any way. "He's got a serious temper, though, and it's tough to know when he's going to go off."

  "He loses his temper with you?" I ask in surprise. He does with me, and I'm not surprised it carries over to his work life, but it's hard to picture Boone taking it.

  He smiles. "He did once, when I first started working in the office. I made it clear that if he ever spoke to me that way again, that I'd be gone."

  I wish I had that option, I think to myself.

  "Still, sometimes I like to escape out to the sites. I love the challenge of the business side, but I don't belong in an office. And it's nice to head out there once a week or to make sure I stay in touch with what's happening." I steal a glance at the way his abs move to maintain his posture, and he just catches my eye before I hurriedly look away. "I thought I knew everyone in Savannah. You must have just moved here."

  "Just graduated from college."

  "Where'd you go? Massachusetts?"

  "Massachusetts?" I repeat, confused.

  "Your accent...it sounds like you've spend time up North."

  "Oh no, does it? I spent some time in Maine," I acknowledge, "with my mom."

  "My parents are divorced, too." He pauses. "Well, technically, they were never married." To my surprise I see him smile, and give him a questioning look. "It's funny, I usually don't tell people that."

  "I'm not one to judge," I tell him gently.

  "Maybe I could sense that," he replies. "Plus I did find you high as a kite at the Historical Society party, so I could always blackmail you to keep quiet."

  I laugh. "That wasn't like me, honestly! Or maybe it was, I don't really know. It was Lynn Dunleaf's fault. You know Lynn?"

  He grins. "I've seen her around. She's a kick. She's quiet, but every now and then she'll just say something that's so spot on."

  "I like her, too. So, how'd the rest of your night turn out?"

  "You asked that so innocently!" he laughs. "You know, it seemed that the moment had sort of passed, and we went our separate ways."

  "You struck out, huh? I can't imagine that happens often."

  He grins, and I shiver as I see his dimples appear on his cheeks. "Not too often, no."

  "So, am I getting the Boone Tillman experience right now?

  "What does that mean?"

  "Oh, come on," I reply, leveling my gaze at him until he grins.

  "I mean, maybe horse-back riding is one of a few ways to—"

  "—Get a woman in the saddle?" I tease him.

  "Not that that's what I'm—" I nudge Annalise toward a narrow break between the trees before he can finish talking. I don't want to walk along the same path he's taken all those other women on. Literally.

  "Callie, where are you going?" he yells after me, as I urge Annalise into a trot.

  "Come on!" I yell over my shoulder, and lean forward in the saddle.

  "That's not a trail!" he protests. Even after all these years, I still know these woods better than he does, and just as Annalise begins to canter, we break out into an open field. I push her into a gallop, winding along the tree edge in a circle. I hear Boone let out a loud whoop behind me, and soon his more powerful horse catches up with me. We let our horses run side by side, free and stretching their muscles to the fullest. Annalise gradually begins to slow down, and Boone gently reigns his horse in to match her.

  "This way," I tell him breathlessly, guiding her at a trot through a break in the trees on the opposite side of the field. He follows, and soon we arrive at a stream. I hope off Annalise, and let her drink, patting her sweaty flanks.

  "You reall
y know your way around," Boone says, meeting me in between our horses.

  "I want to show you something," I tell him.

  Chapter Six

  I lead him up a gradual rocky incline. The trees grow sparser, until finally we're standing on a broad rock overhanging the marshy land below. From here, we have a perfect view of Skidaway River, and a narrow strip of beach below.

  Boone whistles. "How'd you know about this place?"

  "After I learned how to ride, the instructors kind of let me do my own thing. It was nice to just explore and be by myself. This is probably my favorite place in the world. I can hear myself think out here."

  "Sounds like you were a loner."

  I laugh. "Not by choice, exactly."

  "What do you mean?" he asks, looking confused. His eyebrows have a perfect little crease between them, and I look away to avoid getting lost in his golden eyes.

  "I wasn't the most popular girl at my school. I was sort of nerdy, and, well, weird," I admit.

  "I have a hard time picturing that," he says with a grin.

  I shrug. "I don't know if there's an equivalent for boys, but with girls, around sixth grade it was like they all got this secret message. Time to stop acting like a kid. Time to be ladylike, to stay quiet when boys are around. And I didn't really understand what was going on."

  "Seems like you understood eventually," he observes quietly.

  "Well, I decided it was important for me to understand," I reply, staring out over the river, and thinking of how his rejection was one of the reasons why. "Plus, I went to live with my mom, and she was more than happy to teach me," I add, rolling my eyes.

  "So you took your inner wild child and locked her away," he says. I turn to look at him. His tone was light, but his gaze is serious. He steps forward, and I almost lose my balance. "I like the wild child. I'm guessing she's the one who sneaks off to smoke pot at parties and can give me a run for my money on the back of a horse."