Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)

by Andrea Randall

  Monica.

  I look up and find her kneeling beside me, her eyes brimming with understanding and no judgment.

  “I brought makeup,” she states plainly.

  Breaking into soft laughter, I let her lead me up from the ground. “Thanks. You’re the best.” She opens the door and I hesitate.

  “He’s gone. I stayed in my car until I saw him leave. Rachel’s in the meeting room. I met her in the hallway and she pointed me out the back door. She’s awesome. We’ve gotta hang on to her.” Monica smiles as we head into the bathroom.

  I take several deep breaths as I touch up my makeup, and pray the remaining red splotches leave my face by the time the meeting starts.

  “Do we have a few minutes to get our shit together in a spare office?” I ask Monica as we head out of the bathroom.

  “Yeah, I brought our stuff in there. Follow me.”

  We spend ten minutes preparing our notes before heading to the large meeting room. I see David Bryson, Carrie, Rachel, and what I assume is the legal team—including Adrian. Carrie and David carry on a quiet conversation, Rachel randomly shuffles papers, and Adrian watches my every movement until I meet his stare dead on. I give him a nod and a smile, but his smirk tells me he doesn’t buy it. We’ll be talking about this later.

  The meeting goes smoothly. I don’t have to say much, since Carrie and David do most of the talking; and David and I have already met, so he knows what I do. David directs our attention to the legal team, who formally present the contracts we’ve all already gone through. It’s the first time I’ve seen Adrian on the job. I like it, he seems proud. He should be, he has an incredible game face that wouldn’t lead anyone to believe he knows anything about the giant elephants flying through the room. It’s decided that Monica, Carrie, and I will spend three days a week in Concord helping to develop and open the new DROP community center.

  “This is the center Spencer plans to equip with a music studio ...” David’s voice is drowned out by the memory of that very conversation Bo and I had when he first drove me around Concord. I like that David calls him Spencer. I catch Rae and Adrian staring at me, each seemingly unaware of the other, and I refocus my attention on David.

  When all the contracts are signed, David speaks again. “I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Adrian Turner, a contracted member of our legal team, for aiding in the success of this collaboration. I wish we could pay you enough to stay on full time, Adrian. We’re sorry to see you go. It’s been a real pleasure working with you.”

  Adrian nods and starts a speech of thanks.

  I’m trying to listen to him when Monica nudges my arm and slides me a note. It reads, “I’m going to kill you for not telling me.” I stifle a laugh and shrug in response. She kicks me under the table.

  As people file out of the meeting room, I’m overcome with a twinge of guilt for what happened between Bo and me outside. I really wanted to talk things out with him boundary wise, but seeing his face and those eyes made it impossible. He respected me enough in my moment of tears to leave me alone, but I can’t leave Concord without another go at it. I thumb through my phone to the last time he called and text the number.

  Me: Meeting’s over. Can we talk somewhere private?

  Bo: Yes. Meet me at Les’s Diner. It’s on Main.

  Me: Be there in ten.

  “I didn’t know you were planning on leaving DROP, Adrian.” Monica’s voice pulls me away from my phone. It’s seductively accusing.

  He shakes his head and shoves papers into his leather messenger bag. “Get that grin off your face, Mon. Like I’d stay here after all that ...”

  “Uh huh ...” Monica’s grin elicits an eye roll from Adrian. “Ready, Em? We’ve gotta get back home so you can practice for the show tomorrow.”

  Adrian’s brow furrows. “Won’t all of that singing and playing stuff just remind you of Cavanaugh?”

  While he has a decent point for a guy, it annoys me—especially since I already told him about the band and the show. “You know what, Adrian? Maybe. If I sing and play it will be because of him in some way; but if I stop it will be all because of him. I like it, so I’m going to keep doing it.” I take a careful pause before turning to Monica. “We’ve got to head to Les’s Diner on Main first. I’m giving my chat with Bo another try.”

  “What?” Adrian spits out as Monica’s eyes widen.

  “Mon, can you give us just a minute?” I ask, one peg below pleading.

  “Yep.” With raised eyebrows she leaves the room, but not before giving Adrian a careful once over.

  Adrian paces toward me and then leans against the table a few inches from my body. “You talked to him already today?”

  “We tried. I cried all over the brick wall ...” I sigh, and in an instant Adrian’s hand is on top of mine.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to talk to him right now.” He squeezes my hand.

  “I do. I’ll be spending half of every week up here from now until god-knows-when. Even if I’m not going to be working with him directly, I’m still in his friggin building. We need to set boundaries.”

  Wow. That sounded professional.

  “I’ll come with you.” Adrian interlaces his fingers with mine as we walk to the door and I don’t pull it away. My own reaction confuses me.

  “Adrian, please.” I roll my eyes. “It’s fine. It’s just a diner, and no matter what he was trying to talk to me about earlier—it can’t happen.” I recall the hope in Bo’s eyes when he first saw me in the hall.

  “You’re right. Sorry. I’ll be there tomorrow, OK?” His tone is brighter.

  “Of course. See you then. Have a safe drive home.” I squeeze his hand once before pulling mine away.

  He heads down to the back offices as I turn for the door. Rachel is standing in the hall a short distance from where Adrian and I were talking. I briefly wonder if she saw anything, and then realize it doesn’t really matter. I wave politely and head for Monica’s car. We head to Les’s Diner without a single word passing between us.

  Chapter Five

  Monica parks in front of Les’s Diner and both of our heads turn to Bo’s car, which sits empty. He’s inside already.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Adrian leaving DROP?” She asks as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

  “Why do you assume I knew?”

  “Because you didn’t so much as bat an eyelash when they said goodbye to him.”

  I sigh. “Monica, he told me on Wednesday when we had dinner. He knows I’m not the ‘surprise’ kind of girl these days.”

  Understanding spreads across her face. “Just don’t be into him because you’re trying to get away from Bo.”

  “You’re awfully bossy the last few days. Give it a rest. Are you coming inside or staying out here?” I change the subject as I exit the car.

  Monica chuckles and shakes her head, giving me a mocking look as she kills the engine and crosses her arms. Given her fiery temper, she’s been quiet about the ‘Bo situation,’ as she’s come to call it. I’m sure it has more to do with the fact that she doesn’t have all the details because, well, neither do I.

  “Thanks,” I mumble as I get out and shut the door.

  Steam from greasy cheeseburgers assaults my nostrils as soon as I open the door. I pretend to scan the restaurant, but I spot him before the door closes. Bo Cavanaugh stands out in any room he’s in. He nods as soon as I let my eyes meet his, and I head to the table. There’s a glass of water with lime waiting for me and an internal smile allows me to acknowledge his thoughtfulness. He pushes back from the table and crosses to my chair, pulling it out for me as I reach the seat.

  “Thank you.” Sandalwood still trickles through his pores. I have to close my eyes for a second and breathe through my mouth to regain my equilibrium.

  “How’d the meeting go?” he asks as he sits back in his chair. His smile is present, but his voice is distant.

  “Fine, the ink’s drying as we speak. We�
�ll be up here three days a week until the project is complete.” I chuckle. “Though, I suppose you knew that since your signature was already on all of the contracts...and it’s your organization.” I roll my straw between my thumb and index finger, watching the ice bob around the limes.

  His heavy sigh pulls my eyes upward. “November—”

  “I’m sorry about what happened this morning,” I cut him off. “I just ...” I pause to breathe and slow myself down, preventing a ramble.

  “No, it’s OK. I was surprised to see you. Honestly, I hoped that I would but—”

  “You hoped you would? You said you wouldn’t even be at the meeting ...” Oops. He wasn’t supposed to know I saw the email. “Carrie told us it would just be David and Rae,” I add in quickly.

  “I thought I should try to avoid you at first because I was scared of hurting you again. Then I made you cry anyway ...” As he trails off, he reaches across the table and grabs my hand. His heat travels to my heart and a million memories of his touch flash through my brain. I pull my hand away and anchor it on my lap before my resolve passes out.

  “Bo. Stop. We can’t do this. You hurt me. And, now, I’m kind of your employee. We can’t go back. I just came here to tell you I’m fine. I’m ready to work with you, but only if you’re ready to work with me. What happened two weeks ago was a fling and we both could have gotten into a lot of trouble for it. I hope sometime we can sit down and really go through everything that happened, but today’s not the day.” I push my chair back from the table.

  I actually believe the words I’m saying, and that scares me. It scares him, too, judging by the white pallor that’s overcome him.

  “November, wait.” He follows quickly behind me as I make my way through the diner. When I open the door, he reaches in front of me and pulls it shut; the loud jingle of the bells forces gazes in our direction. Bo leans forward until his mouth is an inch from my ear. “I’m not going to stop trying to make this right,” is all he whispers before opening the door again and releasing me into the humid Concord air.

  I turn back to look at him. I stare for a second too long; my memory feels his hands on pieces of my soul that no one else has touched. I part my lips to say something before realizing there is nothing I can say—sometimes when you fall head over heels in love you end up with a concussion. I force a well-meaning smile before turning back around and heading for Monica’s car.

  * * *

  Once back on the road, Monica gives me about a minute and a half before launching in.

  “Go ahead,” she states, as if I’ve asked her permission to discuss what happened in the diner.

  “That...did not go as planned, per se. He said he wasn’t going to stop making “this” right ...”

  “You two haven’t talked about that night at all?” She takes her eyes away from the road to give me an accusing look.

  “Not really. I’m not sure what it is that he could say. He admitted in the hotel that he knew it was me and basically panicked—didn’t say anything until I was attacked and he was forced to.” I try to force a strong tone through that line, but it doesn’t work. I rest my head against the window in frustration.

  “I’m sorry, Em. But we haven’t really talked about it ...” Monica reaches across the car and puts her hand on my knee.

  “I just don’t know why in the hell he wouldn’t say anything.”

  “What would you have done if he did?” She resumes a two-handed grip on the steering wheel.

  I hadn’t considered that. “I don’t know...I mean how hard would it have been for him to share the revelation as soon as he had it? Like ‘Oh holy shit, that was you? Listen—‘ and tell me the story.”

  “No, I get it. It’s just bullshit. I really liked him for you. I’m sorry, November.” Monica rarely calls me November.

  “I know you are. I’m just glad Josh has this house band thing lined up to help me take my mind off of everything. Adrian’s going to come to the show tomorrow.” I don’t really know why I’m smiling, but it feels good.

  “Mmhmm ...”

  “What?”

  “Just watch your ass with him, OK? The end of that relationship did a number on you—”

  “Give it a rest, Monica,” I sigh.

  Her sideways glance says more about her feelings than her silence does.

  * * *

  “Ember, I’m glad you came!” Josh jumps off the stage and greets me with a hug.

  Things are better than normal between him and Monica. The two-day separation is never discussed, and their beautiful love story has resumed.

  “Of course I’d come, this is a great idea!”

  “Where’s your guitar?” Josh asks as we head up on stage.

  I give him a cautious smile. “Funny. Unless you were planning on having us play the single song I know, my guitar playing is out of the question without lessons. Do you want to teach me?”

  He slaps my back. “Of course I’ll teach you, November. What’s taken you so long to ask?”

  Josh and I go over the playlist for tomorrow with C.J., the drummer. C.J.’s our age and has lived in Barnstable since he was ten. When he holds a pair of sticks it’s pure magic. With hands and abs like his, he could have any girl that graces this bar. I think he does, too—one night at a time, anyway.

  “Josh, did you tell November about my cousin?” C.J. asks as he moves parts of his drum set around.

  Josh turns to me with giddy hope in his eyes. “C.J.’s cousin, Regan, lives in Ireland. He’s flying in tomorrow to spend the summer here. He plays the fiddle like nothing I’ve ever heard—we Skyped the other night.”

  My eyebrows shoot up excitedly. “Really? Is he interested in playing with us?”

  “Yeah, Rapunzel, he is. That’s why we’re talking about it.” C.J. shakes his head. He’s called me ‘Rapunzel’ since we met last winter and I don’t know why. I think it has something to do with my hair, but who knows? I hate it. He knows that. He’s a bit of an ass—as any good drummer is, I suppose.

  “Call me that again and I’ll send you on a self-guided cavity search for your sticks.” I throw his sticks at him.

  “Guys, let’s not have ‘Behind the Music’ drama on our first night, K? Let’s play.” Josh teases as he takes his seat on the stool and starts strumming his guitar.

  It’s the first time I’ve heard a guitar since the night Bo and I played together on stage. I feel my brow furrow for a second before I discard the memory. Music was in my bones long before Bo Cavanaugh, and I won’t let one fracture ruin it for me.

  We go through a few Sheryl Crow, The Script, and The Avett Brothers songs before calling it a night. C.J. and Josh have played together for years, and I know all the lyrics to the songs we sing. It seems like it’s a good fit. When C.J. leaves, and Josh and I are alone in Finnegan’s, the awkward silence takes its toll on me.

  “It’s OK to talk about it, Josh,” I offer.

  “I don’t really know what to say. I’m sorry.” Josh hands me a beer and we sit on the stage, our legs dangling over the edge.

  “I just want you to know it’s fine. Bo and I just went way too fast and ignored important things. We just got...wrapped up. He’s my superior now, lines are clearly drawn, and we can each move on.” Each time I say it, I’m reminded of its truth.

  Josh puts his arm around my shoulders. “I think you’re right, about it moving too fast. That was fucking intense with you two—” he cuts himself off as the main door opens. Just as he’s about to launch into his “Hello, we’re closed!” speech, in walks Adrian.

  “Adrian?” I slide off the stage and walk toward him.

  “Hey you.” He smiles broadly and pulls me in for a hug. Mmm..

  “What are you doing here? I thought you were coming down tomorrow.” My mile-wide grin doesn’t shock me. Things feel so comfortable with him, so easy.

  “I have some time and didn’t want to wait till tomorrow to see you.” As we pull away from our hug, he slides his hand down my arm and
brushes my fingertips.

  “I’ve got to finish cleaning up with Josh, I’ll be out in a minute.” I turn and walk back to the stage, noting the question on Josh’s face.

  “I’ll wait outside for you. Nice to see you, Josh,” Adrian says as he exits the bar.

  As soon as the door clicks, Josh’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

  “Shut up, Josh. It’s just Adrian.”

  Just Adrian ...

  “What’s with the hugging and hand holding and all of that?” Damn Josh, he’s not afraid to just get right in there and ask what every other guy might be thinking.

  “I don’t know.” I don’t really know what I’m doing. I don’t know why being around Adrian feels good. “Don’t you dare say a thing to Monica about this.” I never keep secrets from Monica, but I don’t know yet if Adrian is a secret.

  Josh puts his hands up in mock-defense. “Your secret is safe with me…Rapunzel.” I punch him in the arm as he laughs.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. What time should I be here?”

  “Seven’s good. We can get some last minute practice in before the masses descend.” He winks and gives me another pat on the shoulder as he locks the door behind us and heads to his car.

  I turn my attention to Adrian, who parked his BMW next to my Outback. He’s leaning his side against his car, with his hands casually in his khaki shorts’ pockets. How he always pulls off looking like a model is beyond me, but I’ll take it.

  “So, what do you want to do after driving all this way?” I try to make my grin match his as I lean against my driver’s side door.

  “I just want to hang out with you. We spent so much time together last week that it was weird not seeing you at all this week.”

  “I don’t think I properly thanked you for last week.” I step toward him, and he removes his hands from his pockets. “It was really comforting having you around. You didn’t ask me any questions, didn’t hound me about how I was feeling ...” I take another step toward him, wrap my arms around his neck, and set my chin on his shoulder.