He jumps at the sound of my voice. “Calm down,” he laughs, “I’ve got your ‘I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-meat’ crap right over here.” He slides a plate across the island that’s piled with fruit and my fake bacon.
“Aw, you remembered,” I exaggerate while batting my eyelashes. I don’t eat this overly processed crap, either. But I’ll make an exception for Adrian; he’s trying.
“You’re unforgettable. How’d you sleep?” He crosses over to me and kisses the back of my neck as I settle myself onto a stool.
When breakfast is over, he asks the question I was hoping to somehow avoid. “What are your plans for today and tonight?”
“Well, since Josh and Monica are away, I told them I’d hang out with Regan, a fiddle player for the house band, and watch some of the acts with him tonight.”
One act. There’s only one act. In an uncharacteristic mark of betrayal, I feel heat spread through my cheeks and ears.
Adrian takes our dishes to the sink. “Isn’t Cavanaugh playing tonight?”
“Yeah. I told Josh and Bo it was fine because they were acting all weird about him still playing, but the crowd adores him. I said I’d be there, but I wouldn’t sing with him. Boundaries.” I shrug and smile into my coffee mug.
“Sing with him if you want.” Adrian shrugs back and loads the dishwasher.
I’m instantly annoyed at his assumption that I said I wouldn’t sing because of him and not because of my own comfort level. His “permission” has me fuming.
“I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t because of you; therefore, I don’t really need your permission to do it.” I slide off the stool and head to the bedroom to dress.
“Ember,” Adrian calls after me down the hall.
“Look, Adrian,” I say as he enters the bedroom, “this past week was really hard. I was as professional as I could be while working fifty feet from someone who broke my heart. He says we can be friends, but I don’t think he means it in the same way that I meant it when I agreed. I had an amazing time with you last night, and I don’t need you fucking it up by trying to dictate my actions.” I sit on the bed in a huff.
“November, I didn’t mean that. I just meant do what you want. Don’t worry about me, him—or Monica, for that matter. Just do you, Blue.” He sits softly next to me.
“Oh. Sorry.” The heat leaves my face.
“Want me to come tonight?”
Is he serious?
“No. I just...I haven’t said anything to Monica about you, even though she suspects something’s going on anyway, and she’ll find out if we were there together. It’s just...I kind of like having you to myself right now. I need to not have people in my business for a while.” My ramble is honest, and Adrian’s eyes show me he appreciates it.
“I get it. Here’s the deal, you come see me as many Fridays as you can on your way home from Concord until we’re comfortable with whatever’s going on here, and I’ll play by your rules.”
Two men, two deals. God, if you exist, help me.
“Deal.”
“You want to seal that with a kiss?” Adrian lays me back on the satin comforter and pushes my legs open with his knee.
“I want to seal that with a hell of a lot more than a kiss.” I grab his face as we explore the beginnings of...whatever this is.
Chapter Twelve
Walking into Finnegan’s, I’m relieved I beat Bo here. I need to find a place and settle into the scenery as I navigate our “friendship.”
“Ember, over here!” Regan waves from a table directly in front of the stage.
Oh good ...
“What’s with the up close and personal seating?” I tease as I sit next to him.
“I’ve heard this guy’s good, and I want to be able to hear him. How was your week?”
I lean back in my chair, trying my best to come up with a description of the week. I worked rather cordially with Bo, was verbally and emotionally assaulted by Ainsley, and was asked to be Bo’s friend. However, I had an over-the-top amazing night and morning with Adrian, and now I’m sitting next to a hot ex-Pat waiting to watch Bo play.
“Interesting.” I take a sip of my beer.
“November?” A familiar but out-of-place voice cuts through the bar chatter.
I turn around to find Rachel Cavanaugh walking toward me with a hopeful, but cautious smile. Relief bathes my nerves. I admit I was worried Bo would try to pull a stunt to try to stay the night, but seeing his sister here means he’s playing it smart.
“Rae? I didn’t know you were coming. Awesome!” I hug her and pull out a chair. “This is Regan Kane, he’s a wicked fiddle player. Regan, this is Bo’s sister, Rachel.”
“Please, call me Rae.” She morphs her lips into an endearing smile and shakes his hand.
“Rae, it’s a pleasure. Can I get you a beer?”
Rae drops her hand and keeps smiling. “No, thank you, I don’t drink. I’ll take some water, though.” Regan nods and heads to the bar.