Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

“Good morning.”

“How long have you been standing here?” I asked, my gut teetering on the razor’s edge between desire and embarrassment.

He reached behind him and handed me my case.

“Long enough to realize you’re a complete liar,” he chuckled. “You can really play, November.”

“Now you’re the liar, Bowan. Besides, that’s just a song I learned when I was basically an infant. It’s the only thing I can play.” But it did sound really damn good.

“I’ve got news for you, Beautiful. That might be the only thing you’ve memorized, but if your fingers can do that, you know how to play.” He put his hands on my shoulders to emphasize the point.

“You walked here?” I nodded to the empty parking lot. “How did you know where I was?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d tell me you were at the beach and go to some random place where I couldn’t find you. I just came to where we went last night.” Hmm, he’s on to me.

“Well played, Cavanaugh.” I hoisted the case and headed across the parking lot.

“Please, Secret Goddess of the Guitar, let me,” Bo murmured with a slightly less-than-teasing tone as he took the guitar from me.

Bo held my hand on the ten minute walk back to my apartment. We were quiet for most of it; a peaceful quiet that was a respite for the mind and soul. I received a text from Monica saying she was walking over to pick up her car from my place. I texted her back that I wasn’t home, but told her to use her key to enter my apartment if I wasn’t back by the time she arrived.

She waited on my steps, her wicked Cheshire grin partially hidden behind her coffee cup.

“Morning, Monica.” Bo didn’t miss a beat as we approached her.

“Bo,” Monica chirped cordially.

“OK, ladies, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll call you later.” Ignoring Monica’s watchful eye, Bo cradled my neck and planted a pillow—soft kiss on my expectant lips.

Neither Monica nor I moved a muscle as we watched him drive away. I slowly turned around, well aware that my facial expression was fair game for Monica’s scrutiny.

“How ya feeling this morning, Mon?” A girl could try.

“Shut the hell up and get upstairs. Nice guitar.” Monica shook her head and gave an exaggerated eye roll as we headed upstairs.

When we entered my apartment, I set the guitar by the couch and sat down. Monica stared at me expectantly, tapping her foot. I smiled a little before speaking.

“What?” I jested.

“Screw you. Where were you? It’s not even seven-thirty!” She sat across from me on the couch, her eyes brimming with excitement.

“Playing my guitar . . . on the beach,” I said with a shrug.

Monica shook her head in an apparent mix of wonder and disbelief.

“What!” My eyes bulged.

“Damn it, November, I have known you for eight years and I have never once heard you play that guitar. I didn’t even know you still had it. Now, after another hot night with ‘Cavanaugh the Casanova’, you’re all ‘hot girl playing the guitar on the beach’?” Her glare begged me to retort.

“First of all, Monica, it wasn’t that kind of ‘hot night’.” I cocked my eyebrow mockingly. “We slept together - as in sleep. Second of all,” I exhaled dreamily, “yea, I’m all ‘hot girl playing the guitar on the beach,’ and I don’t know what to do with that.”

It was true; the first thought I had that morning had been to go play the guitar. A night sleeping in bed with Bo and I woke up with that on my mind.

“What else is going on up there?” Monica nodded to my head.

“I love him.” Shock didn’t overtake me as I thought it might.

“You love him.” She nodded like we were talking about the weather.

“Monica, I’m in love with this man and I have nothing snarky to cloak it in! Help!”

“Ha! Ember, that really is love!”

We burst into a fit of laughter, before I got dressed for work. As we walked down to our cars, Monica turned to me.

“You know what you have to do at work today, right?”

I don’t have to tell my boss anything - yet.

“What?”

“You’ve got to call Adrian, before he calls us.”

All blood and feeling left my face. “Nice buzz-kill, Mon.”

“Well, he knows damn well that it’s been about twenty four hours since you learned of his involvement. Wait. Did Bo see him yesterday in Concord?” Man, she’s good.

“Yea, for some contract stuff. But he did tell Adrian about me and you learning about him. He said Adrian seemed ‘pleased’ to be talking about us, whatever that means.

“Hmmm.” She seemed to be working something out in her head. “Let’s call him. By let’s, I mean you.” She winked at me as she got in her car and drove away.

*

“Adrian Turner, please.” I held my voice steady on the phone. Monica watched me. She looked like she was boiling with excitement.

“May I tell him who’s calling?” the unsuspecting secretary responded.

“Of course, November Harris from The Hope Foundation.”