Reckless Abandon (30 page)

I smile wide at the thought of next weekend’s nuptials. “Congratulations! My best friends are getting married next weekend.”

Ryan plants a soft kiss on Elizabeth’s head. “I hope they’re as happy as we are,” he says through a charming grin.

“It was nice to meet you, November. I hope to hear from you soon.” Elizabeth and I shake hands one more time before she and Ryan leave.

Still in shock, I wander to the bar.

The regular bartender, Dane, senses my daze. “What’s up, Ember? You OK?”

“Yeah, just talked with a woman named Elizabeth Cantwell. She wants me to do a concert or something. Anyway,” I shake my head, “you’ve got my money from tonight, right?”

He nods and waves an envelope. “I sure do. You want it all to go to DROP again?”

I nod. Delta Blue insisted on paying me when, two months ago, they got feedback that people were coming in “droves” to see me. I put up a fight, saying this was all just for fun, but relented when they agreed to send my money directly to DROP, in Rae’s name.

“Why don’t you just give it to Bo Cavanaugh yourself?” Dane says as he puts the envelope in the register.

Keep your poker face.

“You know Bo Cavanaugh?”

He chuckles. “Sweetheart, everyone knows Bo Cavanaugh. I meant, you could just give it to him here.”

I feel my face flush. “Here?”

“Yeah,” Dane drags a rag across the wet bar, “he’s been coming in here for like three or four weeks—”

“What?” Suddenly, I’m extremely lightheaded. Thankfully, an empty stool is nearby.

He stops mid-swipe. “Relax, Ember, it’s not like he’s a celebrity or something. Just a good-doer socialite.”

“No...no...that’s not it.” I lean over the bar, grab a bottle of tequila, and pour myself a shot.

“What’s this all about, Ember?”

The tequila sets fire to my insides. “Was he here tonight?”

“Of course he was, he comes in—oh. Shit.” Dane seems to be calculating something.

“What, Dane?” I stand and grip the bar.

“He’s the ex-boyfriend, isn’t he?”

“How’d you put that together?” I mindlessly twist the cuff around my wrist. “Never mind that, what were you saying before? He comes in and what?”

“He comes in just before your set and leaves right after. Every time. The first time I thought he was just late.”

My cheeks burn. “Was he here tonight?” Dane swallows hard. “Dane, was he here tonight?”

He nods.

“Shit.” I race away from the bar, knocking over the stool.

My heart is beating mercilessly against my chest as I run outside. Without thinking, I yell.

“Bo?” I look around, a few people turn in my direction, but most ignore me.

I circle the small parking lot, looking for signs of his car, or him. There aren’t any. He’s gone. As I stand in the middle of the lot with my hands on my hips, breathless from frustration, Dane comes outside.

I launch in, “What the hell? He’s been coming here for three or four weeks and he can’t come up and say
hell
o
?
I would’ve liked to—”

“Whoa, what are you talking about? What happened with you two?” He grips my shoulders.

“Psh,” I huff, “you got four months?”

And, for no good reason whatsoever, I give Dane a rather horrible Cliff’s Notes version of our story. For the love of God, we have a story.

When I finish, we’re still standing in the parking lot and Dane has a stupid grin on his face.

“So?” I ask, bugging my eyes for effect.

“So,” he shrugs before squeezing my shoulders, “what the Christ are you doing here talking to me about this? Go get him.”

Forty-five minutes.

That’s all that separates me from Bo—if I decide to turn left. Home lies an hour and a half to my right. It’s a drive I’ve done every week for the last two months.

Left it is.

Buzz. Buzzzzz.

The sound from the call button on the gate barely drowns out the buzzing of my nerves. It’s 1:00 AM, so I determine—after pressing the buzzer two more times—that Bo is either not home, or he’s ignoring me. The latter is certainly not acceptable after finding out he’s been sneaking around and watching me perform for the last month. I smile, biting my lip. He’s been watching me. I should have known. The last few weeks I’ve felt so good, so alive, on stage. I realize it’s not just because I feel at home on stage—it’s because I feel at home with him.

When he doesn’t answer, I tentatively punch in the code he gave me months ago. It works. With nervous energy, I jump back into my car and head down the long driveway. My heart races when I find the lower driveway empty.
He’s not here?
He left Delta Blue long before I did. It didn’t occur to me he’d make other plans for the night since it’s already so late.

Wait for him.

I sit on the front steps for ten minutes; hope sinking with each changing number on my cell phone clock. I screwed up. Not recently, but five months ago, when I flipped my hormonal shit and kicked him out of my life. I rejected Bo’s advances, dove into an ill-fated relationship with Adrian—a decent guy who didn’t deserve my mess any more than I deserved his expectations of me—and I, worst of all, left Bo after Rae’s funeral. Shit, I
left
him. Yeah, he asked me to, but what would have become of us if I had held onto him?

I panic, wondering briefly if it was some test—some grief-soaked test of my faithfulness to ask me
to go. When he needed me most.
Shi
t
.
I jump to my feet and head for the front door—I know it’s not locked.

“Bo?” I try, even though I know he’s not home. You can’t enter a house and say nothing.

On a whim, I decide to call Regan. I know he was meeting up with Bo earlier today—maybe they’re drinking together somewhere now.

Regan answers, sounding exhausted. “November? What the hell? It’s...Jesus, one AM.”

“Shit, Regan, I’m sorry, were you sleeping?”

“Trans-Atlantic shit, remember?” He laughs.

“Sorry. I was just wondering, do you know if Bo had plans tonight?”

Awkward silence.

“Regan?”

“Uhh ...” He sounds conflicted, making me laugh.

“Well, besides hiding in the back of a bar while I performed?”

Regan suddenly sounds more awake. “Did you see him?”

I explain the night’s events to Regan, ending with me standing in the empty foyer of the Cavanaugh house.

“No,” Regan answers, “we met for lunch today, but he didn’t mention anything about his plans for the rest of the night. Sorry, Em.”

“It’s OK, just thought I’d give it a shot. Go back to bed. This was all a dream.” I laugh and hang up.

I quickly decide that I’ll stay here all night if I have to, but I’m not leaving until I talk to Bo. I can’t walk away again without telling him how I really feel. Not again. I decide to wander down to the studio, where I find evidence of Bo scattered everywhere. His guitar. Sheet music with his handwriting. God, even his smell circulates through the eerily silent studio. Sandalwood and sex. I chuckle thinking about the first time I really smelled him, out on the beach behind Finnegan’s five months ago. I glide my fingers across the tops of the piano keys, letting the sounds of a broken scale fill the anxious space around me.

“November?” I jump at Bo’s voice as his heavy footsteps race through the first floor. “Ember?” He calls me again from the top of the stairs. Bo doesn’t wait for my reply as he runs down the stairs. I’m afraid he’ll fall going at that pace.

Only the hall light is on as I wait in the darkness of the studio. I straighten my back and pray that he’ll hear me out when he walks in here. In a second, his broad shoulders fill the doorframe. He flicks a switch that illuminates dim track lighting just above the piano. A second flick turns on a light above his head. I’m breathing through my mouth as he walks slowly toward me.

“You’re here,” he whispers.

I nod. “You watched me sing tonight.”

He nods back.

“And the last few weeks?” I question, knowing the answer.

“Yes.” He shifts side to side and puts his hands in his pockets. With his chin lowered, he looks at me through his thick, gorgeous lashes. “You’re smiling?”

“You make me happy,” I whisper.

I step forward, reaching for his chin with my hand. When my skin connects with his, his lips part with a gasp. His eyes meet mine, and he slightly furrows his brow when he speaks again.

“You’re not mad?”

I smile. “No. I spent months trying to be mad at you for something so stupid, Bo, and I was miserable. Irreparably miserable.” I swallow hard and put my hand down, remembering why I’m here. “I’m sorry, Bo.” My chin quivers as I struggle to maintain composure.

“Oh, my God...Ember...no.” Bo grabs my face with both hands.

I stare into his eyes and it’s there. Everything’s there. Kissing him first in the parking lot of Finnegan’s all those months ago, waking up in his arms, and singing “Heaven When We’re Home” when we were just strangers. Though I suppose we were never really strangers—a thousand lifetimes is a powerful thing. And it’s there.

His thumbs trace my cheeks. “I was never mad at you, ever.”

“I left you after Rae’s funeral ...”

“I told you to go. I needed you to go, Ember.” Bo moves one thumb to my chin and presses down on it to stop the quivering.

“But I love you, Bo. I shouldn’t have left.”

His eyes fill with tears as he smiles. “You loved me enough to leave that day, Ember. I needed to grieve and to be angry. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I would have if you’d stayed.” His hands scoop down my neck and grip my shoulders.

I reach up and pull his hands away from my shoulders and interlace my fingers with his. “Why the hell did you hide from me at Delta Blue?”

He bites his lip. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him bite his lip and it’s driving me crazy.

“The first time I went, I just wanted to see if you were OK. Josh said you were doing well.”

“Ha. I should have learned after the ‘thousand lifetimes’ debacle, that Josh Dixon can’t keep a secret.”

“Good point.” His face relaxes for a moment. “Seriously though, when I saw you, it took my breath away all over again.” He lifts his head and chuckles a little. “You sounded perfect. I just thought...I don’t know...I didn’t want to ruin you.”

“Ruin me?”

“You just looked so happy. I guess I was kind of afraid that if I barged back in ...” He puts his hands back in his pockets and takes a step back.

“Bo Cavanaugh, you don’t get to decide what’s good for me and what’s not.” I keep my tone light. “You. You’re what’s good for me. I spent the last few months getting healthy for me, but I wanted to make sure that if—like you said—you and I ever got our chance again, that I was perfect for you. For us.”

“I’m sorry about the night of Rae’s funeral.” His voice breaks slightly over the word
funeral
.

“You needed me. What’s there to be sorry about? I spent five agonizing months trying to be mad at you, but all I did was end up falling deeper in love with you than I even thought I was before. I needed you that night, too.”

He’s standing there, shaking his head with a sexy, crooked grin on his face. I can’t stand it anymore.

Bo

“I needed you that night, too.” Ember lowers her eyes for a fraction of a second, and I grin in disbelief.

We were madly in love with each other this whole time, and both did just enough to screw it up without blowing it into total disrepair. When she looks up, her eyes are ignited with a look I’ve waited months to see cast back in my direction. She arches her eyebrow—always the left one—and steps forward so we’re standing hip to hip. She’s got these crazy-hot knee-high boots on over her jeans that have a heel on them, putting us about eye level with each other. My mind calculates how I could get away with taking those jeans off while leaving the boots on.

Before I can plot any further, she hooks her thumbs through my belt loops—God, I love it when she does that—and tugs so our hips grind into one another as she leans up and kisses me. Hallelujah, Ember is kissing me. She immediately releases her thumbs and weaves her fingers across the back of my neck and through my hair. I’ve never felt anything like her kiss before. If I could feel one thing forever it would be this.

I let her take the lead on this as I slide my hands down her sides and grab her ass with both hands. A hungry sigh leaves her mouth and finds its way into mine. She steps back slowly, begging me to follow as her hands move to my belt, then down the outside of my jeans where she grabs me. I can’t hide how hot she makes me, and I don’t want to.

She backs into the piano, causing my knuckles to pound against a few high keys. Neither one of us pays them any attention. I turn slightly and sit on the bench behind me, pulling her onto my lap. I need the pressure of her body on me. Pulling away from my mouth for the first time, she doesn’t break eye contact with me as she takes off her shirt and lets it fall to the floor. Her breasts are perfect. Everything about her is, but damn, those breasts ...