“Okay,” Paloma said, in a tone that communicated she did not believe this and was choosing, as a mercy, not to push it. “I have to head to work. Don’t let yourself be seduced while I’m not there to slap some sense into you.”
“Mhm. Bye.”
Don’t let yourself be seduced.
Nellie repeated this mantra to herself twenty times before her conscience gave in.
She emailed Sawyer’s office—a professional email, written in five minutes, read back fifty times to confirm it contained no hint of swooning
Nellie Fuller:Thank you for the package. The ice pack is very useful. I appreciate the thought.
She hit send and went back to her maps.
A reply arrived in under four minutes.
Sawyer Alburn:The cookbook was Martha’s idea. She’s convinced that your penchant for van-life means you only eat food from a packet.
Nellie read it three times but detected no seduction. She was certain by this point that Paloma had been barking up entirely the wrong tree. The realization was inexplicably disappointing.
So the ice pack was yours?she typed. The email was sent before her brain caught up with what she’d just done.
“Ah, fuck!” She pushed her chair away from the table and began to pace across the kitchen, raking her fingers through her already disheveled hair. “Don’tbegher to flirt with you, you sad little loser!”
The ping of a reply had her diving back into the chair with such enthusiasm she almost toppled it.
Sawyer Alburn:Don’t read into it. You sprained your ankle on company property. Basic liability.
Nellie Fuller:Sure. Very sensible. I promise not to sue.
Sawyer Albun:I appreciate it. The press would have a field day if they caught word you’d suffered a mysterious injury after I’d followed you into the woods.
Nellie Fuller:Can’t have that now, can we? Alright, no more injuries and I promise not to starve to death on your property either. Tell Martha thank you for the book.
SawyerAlburn:Tell her yourself. Her email is on the Alburn Systems website.
Nellie Fuller:I prefer this channel.Better response time.
The reply took slightly longer this time—long enough that Nellie refilled her coffee, came back, and it still hadn’t arrived, and then it did.
Sawyer Alburn:I wouldn’t count on it. I’m a very busy person.
Nellie Fuller:Of course. Very busy doing billionaire stuff. Are you off to the golf course or the health spa this afternoon?
Sawyer Alburn:I’m going to stop responding now.
Nellie Fuller:Okay.
She chuckled to herself and took a long sip of cold coffee. Barely a minute passed before another response popped up on her screen.
Sawyer Alburn:How’s the ankle? Are you in need of a health spa?
Nellie dropped her head back and cackled at the ceiling.
She typed back:Better. The ibuprofen is earning its keep.
Sawyer’s response did not come in for a long while. More than likely she was on the phone or in a meeting or doing some other important thing that CEOs have to do to grow their billions into more billions.
Still, Nellie couldn’t shake the hope that Sawyer was also staring at her screen and laughing to herself. Perhaps she was trying to find the perfect words that could be read as flirting while maintaining the plausible deniability of being deadpan.
