The Heart of the Cowboy's Violet-Eyed Farmhand

Once I returned to my apartment, I tossed my stuff on the sofa on my way to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge before sitting at the kitchen table to call the number for Sawyer King. On the second ring, a lady answered, “Hello, this is Sawyer King’s residence.” I took a deep soothing breath, “Hello, I’m calling about the job advertisement for a farmhand.” The lady replied, “Oh, yes, the advertisement. What’s your name, dear?” “Cheyenne Moore,” I replied nervously. The lady replied, “My name is Sylvia, and I’m one of the other farmhands, but I deal mainly with the crops.” There was a slight pause before she said, “I’m sorry, dear. I tend to talk a lot; please hold on a minute, Ms. Moore, and I’ll get Mr. King for you.” I giggled, “I talk a lot sometimes, too, but please call me Cheyenne or Chy.” I paused before I said, “I’ll be happy to hold.” I stayed on the line for a few minutes before a man spoke gruffly, “Hello, this is Sawyer King.” His voice was sexy and deep and could make any girl slick between her thighs. My panties were damp from his voice alone. It took me a minute to speak since his voice through me off-kilter, so I took a breath before I said, “Hello, Mr. King, my name is Cheyenne Moore, and I’m calling regarding the ad I found for a farmhand. I was wondering if the position was still available and if so, would I be able to get an interview?” Mr. King’s mesmerizing voice came over the line again, “The position is still open, Ms. Moore. Would you be able to come to the farm the day after tomorrow, say in the afternoon around one?” I quickly responded, “Yes, thank you, Mr. King; I’ll be there, but please call me Cheyenne or Chy. Can you please give me the correct address?” “Sure thing, Cheyenne. See you then,” he replied with a hint of a chuckle as he quickly rattled off the address before he ended the call. _______________________________________________________________________________________________ My cheeks were flaming hot when I said, “Sawyer, I’m sorry, I don’t think this would be a good idea.” By the time I finished my argument, Sawyer was out of his seat, kneeling in front of me with his hands on each arm of my chair. Sawyer whispered, “Why isn’t this a good idea, Chy?” Warning: 18+ explicit content