He stands behind his open door. “What’s wrong?”
“Thanks again for coming. Also, thanks for everything back there.” I hitch my thumb toward the bar.
“Of course.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “It was really beautiful watching you sing.”
“Damn, and this whole time I thought you meant it was me who was beautiful.” Grinning, I step around his door. He drops his hand from the door and takes mine.
“You are beautiful...I just ...”
“No, I get it. I was teasing. Thanks for not making things weird with my parents and Monica. Have a safe drive home.” I lift myself onto my toes and kiss his cheek.
Without a moment’s hesitation, his hand cradles the back of my neck and he pulls me into his mouth. This is a real-deal Adrian Turner kiss. I dig the pads of my fingers into his shoulders as my tongue is granted entry into his mouth. His hands work down my sides, igniting the goosebumps I thought may have gone away for good. Pressing my hips into his, I force his back against the door of his car. He can’t hide his want with my body pressing into him like this; his throaty groan echoes his need. I suddenly love knowing I do this to him. You’ve still got it. I don’t want to stop—he’s a delicious escape—but I know we have to. As my hands beg access to his belt, I pull away.
“See you Friday?” My lips feel drunk as I speak.
Adrian squeezes my hips as he rests his forehead on mine. “See you Friday.”
My wobbly legs carry me back into Finnegan’s, where Monica flags me down at the bar. The place is still crowded and once my ears clear themselves of Adrian’s lust-filled air, they tune into a fiddle on stage. She hands me my beer, and I try to keep the grin off my face as I evaluate the tall drink of water swaying on stage.
“What the hell? Is he playing “Smooth Criminal?” On his fiddle?” The well-over-six-foot beauty on stage has his brassy-red hair pulled back in a short, messy ponytail. Typically I hate when guys have long hair, but this dude is hot.
“Yeah, isn’t he amazing? That’s C.J.’s cousin,” Monica whispers.
The crowd is completely mesmerized by the rock music floating from his strings. I’ve heard people play rock music on classical instruments before, but hearing it live is intense. His body moves slowly side-to-side as the bow races across the strings with passion.
“That’s Regan? Holy shit.”
“Right? He’ll do in a pinch.” Monica giggles, making her chocolate ponytail swing side to side. Josh elbows her.
“Take it easy, Mon,” he teases.
When Regan finishes, the crowd hoots and hollers wildly, then filters out the various exits to enjoy the warm June night. C.J. and Regan approach the bar, and C.J. introduces us.
“November, this is my cousin, Regan Kane.” C.J. steps aside and Regan shakes my hand with a sexy smile overtaking his face, promptly heating mine.
“Nice to meet you, November. I’ve heard great things about you.”
“From who? C.J.? Don’t believe a word of it.” I laugh. “You don’t really have an accent.”
Regan smiles as he stretches his arms over his head. “I’m not from Ireland, I just live there. The accent is easy for me to turn on and off.” He shrugs and thanks Josh, who hands him a beer. “You were great up there tonight.”
My face ignites. “You were here?”
“Yeah, your voice is full, it has depth. You’ve been singing a long time.” He says this with authority.
“I guess.” I shrug. “Listen, I’m exhausted, and I have a long week of work coming up. Are we still playing here every other week?” I question Josh. I want to make sure I can hang out with Adrian this weekend.
“Yeah. Let’s rehearse Tuesday, since you’ll be in Concord Wednesday through Friday. Sound good, Regan?” Josh nods in Regan’s direction, whose studious eyes never leave mine.
“See you Tuesday.” Regan smiles through his words as I walk away.
Monica follows me to the parking lot, but I don’t notice until I’m almost at my car.
“Ember.”
I turn around to find her standing cross-armed. “Yeah?”
“What’s going on with Adrian?”
“What do you mean?” I walk back toward her.
“Don’t treat me like I’m dumb—I’m your best friend. I see what’s going on, but I don’t know why you’re not telling me.” Her face twists in hurt.
“Monica,” I sigh, “I’m not intentionally keeping anything from you. I just don’t know what’s going on yet, so there’s not really anything to talk about.”
“Can we talk about the fact that his car was in front of your apartment this morning?”
Damn.
“We can, but nothing happened. I swear. Look, Mon. It’s comfortable with him. There aren’t any surprises and we’ve got history.” I leave out the part about our hot make-out session in my living room.
“Fine. Now, I get that you’re all guarded now because of what happened with Bo, but you can’t keep stuff from me. That’s not what best friends do.”
She’s right.