Bo & Ember

by Andrea Randall

  Bo squeezed his arm around my shoulders and I could almost feel his muscles vibrating with excitement. “Better. I’m sure of it. God, that was exciting. I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

  Just as we were starting to look around, wondering what we were supposed to do with ourselves, Jan rushed up to us with a cabernet-laced smile on her face. “Wonderful job, you three. Truly.”

  Bo stuck out his hand, never losing his deeply ingrained professionalism. “Mrs. Lieberman—”

  “Please,” she waved her hand, “just Jan. I dropped the Mrs. when I dropped my ex-husband.”

  He grinned and I caught Georgia rolling her eyes from beside Regan. Georgia was the only person I knew who rolled her eyes more than I did. She thought everyone was always flirting with Bo and Regan. Mostly because everyone always was, though I didn’t think that was the case with Jan.

  “Jan,” Bo continued, “thank you for this opportunity. You’ve got a great event here.” He gave her hand a firm shake.

  She turned her attention to me. “Ms. Har—Cavanaugh—sorry, I must say, you have an incredible stage presence. So relaxed, yet beaming with energy. You remind me a lot of your mom. That’s her guitar, isn’t it?” She pointed a finger at the instrument in my left hand.

  I smiled as a sinking feeling took over. This was an old guitar she never played anymore. “It is. Have you listened to The Six for a long time?” I questioned. Hoping.

  “I hadn’t listened to them much until the tour last summer. But, once I saw all of you on stage, I did my homework. You’re a spitting image of both of your parents. A gorgeous young lady.” As Jan continued rattling off the things she’d learned during her research of The Six, air returned to my lungs.

  Now, I know that more times than not, it’s who you know that gets you somewhere in this business. Hell, that’s why Bo, Regan and I had the opportunity to play with The Six at all. But, I’d been hoping there hadn’t been any favor-calling to get us into this event. I was hoping—and right, it seemed—that our hard work over the last couple of years was garnering the right kind of attention.

  “So,” Jan continued, “we’ll see you tomorrow afternoon with The Six. I’m so looking forward to that performance.”

  With a quick kiss on all of our cheeks, Jan swept herself back to the stage to introduce the next act. A top-40 artist I’d fallen in love with over the last year. I studied her body of work like it was the vocal Bible. Just a girl and her guitar, and I loved that. Though, if I were to be completely honest, performing with one of my best friends and my husband kind of took the cake.

  Best friend.

  “Where are you?” Bo whispered into my ear as he kissed the still-excitable skin of my neck.

  I turned to him, my eyes misting over with a mix of emotions. “I miss Monica. I need to call her. Give me a sec, okay?”

  Bo nodded as I slipped away to my guitar case, where I’d left my cell phone. Smiling as I picked it up, I saw that I’d missed five calls. All from Monica. I dialed her back as quickly as I could.

  “How could you possibly sound better every fucking time you sing? Does your vocal perfection know no bounds?” Monica was rarely one for your standard hello.

  I laughed, sniffling as I realized how much I missed not just the sound of her voice, but her presence in my daily life. “How did you hear it already?”

  “I listened to it on that satellite station. Trust me, I tried to find a live video feed, but they seem to have a mobile lockdown on the event.” Monica sounded entitled and annoyed. I loved her.

  “Did you hear the whole thing?”

  She clicked her tongue as if I were a misbehaving toddler. “Of course I did. I’ve done nothing else all day. Finnegan’s sends their congratulations.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows. “What?”

  “I used my in at Finnegan’s to have everyone shut the hell up so we could blast your set through the bar. The place went nuts.”

  “Well, thank Josh for me, huh?” Monica’s husband, Josh, was the manager of Finnegan’s and had always been a soldier on the front lines of good music.

  He was the one who drove all the way to Concord, NH two years ago to scope out a potential act for the Barnstable, MA pub.

  That “potential act” snaked his arms around my waist and kissed the top of my head as I conversed with my best friend.

  “So,” I continued, wrapped in Bo’s arms, “when are you coming out here again?”

  “Uh-uh, sister. When are you coming here? You’re not West Coast, you know. You’re too pale and broody for that shit. Come back and touch down on your roots for a hot minute, would you?” While she brushed a powder of sarcasm over her words, I could tell she was serious.

  I’d only been back to Barnstable twice since I moved to San Diego a year and a half earlier. Bo and I had gone to New Hampshire two or three times, where all of our things lay in wait at his family’s estate, but that was largely for DROP business and fundraising. Monica was right; I needed some Atlantic air in my lungs.

  “After this weekend I’ll see what our schedule looks like. I really need a trip back there—”

  “You know I’m just giving you shit. If anyone out there was listening and has a brain in their head, they’re going to offer you a recoding contract. Wouldn’t that be insane? Jesus, then you’d be all over the place!”

  I laughed nervously, not wanting to put too much pressure on myself. “Tell me something about you. I’m tired of talking about myself.”

  “I went off the pill two months ago,” Monica blurted out nonchalantly.

  My eyes grew wide. “Yes!” I shouted. Bo had been holding onto me through most of the conversation, but dropped his arms as I cheered and spun around, addressing him. “They’re gonna start trying!”

  Bo scrunched his eyebrows and tilted his head.

  “They want to have a baby!” I squealed, bouncing on my toes.

  A smile rose from his toes to his eyes, and he nodded once in approval.

  “Yo, Ember, over here,” Monica shouted into the phone.

  “Sorry! I’m so excited. Shit, see … I should be there for this…”

  She snorted. “No, not for this part you shouldn’t.”

  I laughed harder than I had in days. “Not that part, ass. Just … baby stuff! We’re supposed to, like, live our lives together. Isn’t that what best friends do?” My tone grew somber as I ended my sentence.

  “We do get to live our lives together,” Monica reassured me. “You get to go be a rock star for a few years, I’ll have a few kids, then you’ll have some, and we get to experience everything together. It’ll be okay. I promise. Okay, I gotta go. It’s getting loud in here and it looks like Josh’s bartenders are just learning how to tie their shoelaces so I’ll have to get behind the bar.”

  “I love you, Mon.”

  “Love you, too, Ember. Call me when you get your record deal.”

  I pressed “End” on my phone and looked around, finding Bo, Regan, and Georgia ready to go. I snapped the guitar in its case and walked to the parking lot, wondering what the next several months of my life would look like. For me and the people I loved so dearly.

  Ember

  “You got quiet. Are you missing Monica?” Bo reached across the center of the car and grabbed my hand, bringing it to his mouth so he could plant a soft kiss on my knuckles.

  I nodded. “I do miss her. I’m hoping to carve out some time soon to go visit her. You did awesome tonight, hon.” I leaned over to him, kissing his cheek.

  “Likewise, Mrs. Cavanaugh.” He grinned like a fool every time he called me that.

  Regan cleared his throat from the back of the car. “Sergeant Kane reporting from the back seat. I’d like to add that we fucking rocked that. That’s all. Over and out.”

  The four of us laughed, all clearly relieved the nervousness of the set was over, but still riding on adrenaline. Even though Georgia wasn’t in the band, she was as active a member as the rest of us. Excellent in her marketing skills, sh
e knew how to get us noticed wherever we were. And she kept us well fed, which the guys were especially grateful for.

  “Hey, where are we going? The exit for the campground was back there.” Georgia stuck her head between Bo’s and my seats. The Six always parked their RVs at campgrounds during tours, opting for as “natural” an experience as possible.

  Regan tugged Georgia into the back seat, hooking his arm around her shoulders. “Despite our close living quarters, we can still have some secrets.”

  I whipped my head around to look at Bo and Regan at the same time. “What secrets?”

  Bo’s lopsided grin took over the entire car. “Regan and I were able to book a bed and breakfast up here for the weekend. Just us.” He looked out of the corner of his eye at me. I may have melted just a little. I knew deep down he would always make me melt.

  Georgia and I squealed in unison. While Bo and I were used to trying to sneak private moments while on the road, since “free love” wasn’t in the cards when the rest of the band consisted of your parents and their friends, it was different for Georgia and Regan. They didn’t get to spend nearly as much time together as Bo and I did, given Georgia was burning the candle at both ends at her bakery, Sweet Forty-Two. When they got together they desperately needed privacy that was at a premium.

  Georgia leaned forward again. “Wait … when you say just us…”

  I furrowed my brow, not knowing what she was getting at.

  “Just us,” Regan reiterated, an impish grin growing on his face that reminded me he was genetically related to our womanizing percussionist friend, CJ.

  “The whole place?” I asked, spelling out my disbelief.

  “Hey, we’re rock stars,” Bo shrugged unapologetically before cracking into laughter. “Seriously, Regan and I have been planning this since we got the vineyard gig.”

  I nodded, a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “Well played, Cavanaugh.”

  Twenty minutes later, we were checked into The Cottage, and each couple retreated to their own rooms, which were at opposite ends of the thankfully lengthy hallway. As I closed the door to our room, I noticed a small fire crackling in the fireplace, and an unopened bottle of Prosecco chilling in a bucket at the foot of the bed.

  “Is it bad that the Prosecco got my attention first?” I sighed, wandering over to the bed and picking up the cold bottle.

  “That was intentional. It’s been a hell of a few … months? Years?” Bo slinked over to me, taking the bottle and aiming it away from us as he popped the cork. I held out the glasses and he filled them nearly to the top.

  I took a sip, sighing as the bubbles worked their way down my throat. “It’s always a hell of a ride with you, Bo. In the best ways. I’m so happy we’re doing this together. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Regan and Georgia.”

  “You’re stunning.” Bo stared into my eyes, seeming to ignore my words.

  My breath grew shallow as I set my glass on the table at the foot of the bed. I never pulled my eyes from his. “You …”

  Bo shook his head as I searched for something measurable to say. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me admire my insane luck. My wife.” He set his still-full glass next to mine and cupped my face in his hands.

  I rose on the tips of my toes as Bo bowed his head. Always working in time with each other, our lips pulled us to meet in the middle. A luxurious kiss that pulled a soft groan from my throat.

  “Can I say something now?” I whispered as I pulled away.

  Bo only shook his head again. Grinning as he bit his lip, he lifted me by my hips and set me on the bed. I wouldn’t have been able to speak in that moment if I’d tried. Bo took a step back as fire seared through his eyes. Though I was fully clothed, I felt exposed under his gaze as he removed his shirt.

  I arched my eyebrow and shot him a sly grin.

  “See something you like?” Bo teased as he reached for the button on his jeans.

  “Keep going. I’ll let you know,” I teased back. Once he stepped out of his jeans and stood in front of me in his dark grey t-shirt and tight black boxer briefs, I spoke again. “Bingo.”

  His instant lopsided grin turned my temperature all the way up.

  “What?” he asked. “You look so serious all of a sudden.” Bo sat next to me on the bed and brushed my hair aside, allowing him to untie the string of my halter top.

  “I’m the lucky one,” I remarked as his fingertips trailed down my back.

  Bo’s lips grazed my shoulder. “Hardly.”

  I’d intended to protest, to tell him what I’d been meaning to say to him all night. But, here’s the thing, when Bo Cavanaugh breathes across the back of your neck, the rest of the world disappears. The only colors are black and blue: the color he looks best in set against the wicked hue of his eyes. The only sounds are the moans escaping with your sigh.

  “I love you so much,” I whispered as I slid out of the rest of my clothing.

  “Damn.” He grinned and licked his lips. “I don’t know why the hell married people complain about their sex lives so much. I’ll never get tired of this.”

  I crawled over him, pushing him against the pillow with the pressure of my kiss. Bo reached his hands to the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion that left me staring at his solid chest and abs.

  “And I’ll never get tired of this.” I brought my lips to the space between his pecs and kissed a straight line down to his belly button, enjoying the shifting of his hips.

  Suddenly, teasing was too much for me to handle, and I had to free him from the rest of his clothes. I softly dragged my nails against his skin as I hooked my fingers around the waistband of his boxer briefs, waiting. Silently, he did as he knew I needed him to, lifting his tight backside off the bed, allowing me to slide the useless fabric down his legs and onto the floor.

  Bo’s hair was a carefully crafted mess held in place by very expensive hair wax. That didn’t stop me from ruffling it further, causing him to chuckle and grab my wrists.

  “Come here.” He pulled me flush on top of him and invaded my mouth with his sweet tongue, causing my hips to move back and forth on their own volition.

  “Mmm,” I moaned into his mouth as I began to throb between my legs. We hadn’t been alone in days and I was ragged with desire.

  Bo growled and looked to the ceiling. “You drive me crazy with that noise, Ember.”

  I shifted my hips down his body and slid slowly and easily onto him, never breaking eye contact. I reveled in his eyes rolling back in his head as his teeth clenched. My poker face only lasted as long as it took for him to fill me completely. When he was as far in as he could go, I threw my head back and groaned.

  “Jesus, Bo.”

  He responded by wrapping his hands around my hips and pushing me down further, causing me to lean back slightly so he could go deeper. I closed my eyes and let myself feel him. All of him. Off the edge of the bed, I heard my cellphone buzz and ring with an incoming call, but answering was not an option.

  Suddenly, Bo and I were face to face as he sat up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as our lips worked into smiles against each other.

  “Roll over,” Bo commanded, his eyes piercing into mine with greedy intensity.

  As I readily complied with his demand, his phone rang from his jeans pocket on the floor. It cut off after the third ring and immediately rang again.

  “Ignore it,” I begged, needing him inside me again.

  “As you wish.” Bo winked and wasted no time pushing into me, resuming his earlier rhythm.

  It was short-lived. Bo’s phone cut off and mine picked up seconds later. Ringing twice, cutting off, and ringing again.

  “What the hell?” Bo looked over his shoulder, pulling out of me as I sat up.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, scrambling to the edge of my bed, semi-panicking that an emergency was waiting for me.

  “Jesus, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I was out of
breath from my interrupted sexual encounter with my hot-as-hell husband.

  “What?” Bo asked, sounding as annoyed as I felt.

  “Willow!” I shouted as I answered the phone. “Is someone dead?”

  Bo put his hands over his face and fake-cried as he lay face down on his pillow. His frustration made me grin, though hearing the loud thumping of bass and music blasting in my ear wiped all amusement from my face.

  “Willow?” I repeated, praying for her sake that this was a butt dial.

  “Ember?” she shouted to hear her own voice over the drunken noise, causing me to hold the phone a couple of inches from my ear.

  “Willow?” I repeated, growing more annoyed by the second.

  “Where are you?”

  “Excuse me?” I slid off the edge of the bed and paced around the room. “I’m at a lovely bed and breakfast with my husband, enjoying some privacy.”

  “Shit, I thought you’d be at the campsite with the rest of the group. Well, uh … hate me later if you want, but for now you’ve got to get your ass to Sand Castle.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks, turning to Bo with my mouth gaping. He had flipped to his back and was openly gawking at my nudity.

  “What?” he whispered.

  I shook my head. “Willow, I don’t have time for this. We’ve had a long—”

  Ignoring all the information I’d given her about where I was, and who with, Willow continued. “I just got into town for your show with The Six tomorrow. Some friends of mine do some production work for Live at the Vineyard and had me meet them here. All the execs who were there tonight, or listening, are here … and they’re talking about you guys.”

  “Us guys…”

  “You, Bo, and Regan. Listen, I’m not asking you to come here for some contrived meeting. You need to get your asses down here to be seen. All of you. Rub elbows. Keep yourselves on their radar for tomorrow. This is a big fucking deal, Ember.” While she was still shouting, Willow was definitely sober enough for me to take her seriously.

  “Shit … I’ve got … Jesus, Willow, okay. Look, text me directions. I’ve got to get dressed, then go get Regan.”