Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

Wow, that was cold Ember. Even for you.

“I was trying to respect your privacy. I don’t know what you and Adrian talked about, and I’ve already been accused once of peeing on your leg - as you put it. I couldn’t do it Ember, I couldn’t go face-to-face with Adrian about who was going to take you home in front of everyone on the sidewalk.” I thought his voice cracked, but the liquor scrambled my signal.

“Oh really? Not even with the power of a thousand lifetimes behind you?” I turned off my phone and threw it into my clutch with renewed resolve.

Adrian climbed back in to his car, giving me a curious once over.

“Monica’s fine. You look pissed, though. You ok?”

“Just drunk as hell, Adrian . . . take me home.” I don’t care how that sounded.

“As you wish.” He smiled. Oh, you think you know what I meant.

Adrian pulled up to my building and opened the car door for me, since I evidently lacked the capacity to do so in my current state. It wasn’t until I stood up that I felt the full effects of my foolishness, and stumbled for the second time. Adrian caught this pass.

“Whoa,” he forced through gritted teeth as he righted me. “Let’s take it slow on the stairs. Take off those ridiculous shoes and hand them to me.” I did as he asked. Damn, he’s being rather thoughtful.

Adrian led me up the stairs just as he had away from the bar, his solid arm secured around my waist. I took the opportunity to breathe in his scent once more.

“Mmm.”

“What?” He looked at me from the corner of his espresso eyes.

Crap, I said that out loud? “Nothing.” I let my head rest on his shoulder.

“Hold on as tight as you can.” He said gently, as if he was talking to a child which, really, is how I was behaving.

When we reached my door, I pushed my clutch in to his stomach, his rock hard stomach. The door graciously supported me as Adrian unlocked it. He resumed his hold on me as he opened the door and flipped on the light.

“Thanks. You’re sweet,” I slurred into his ear as he set my heels by the door.

He walked me over to the couch and guided me down before heading to the kitchen. He returned with a large glass of water and sat down next to me.

“Drink this, ya drunk,” Adrian teased as I took the water from him. I rolled my eyes and took a huge gulp.

“Why are you being so nice?” I demanded, setting the glass down.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He seemed shocked by my question.

“I don’t know. I was just prepared for the smug bastard I worked you out to be in my head.” What little conversational filter I carried was long gone.

Adrian laughed and shook his head, looking at the floor.

“Smug bastard, huh? Well, I guess I deserve that after tracking you down and assuming you’d want to meet me for a drink.” He left his forearms on his knees and looked up at me, his face unreadable.

“That’s right you deserve it. Especially when you tell me you really loved me five years ago. Why would you say that?” I guzzled more water but still felt incredibly drunk.

“Because it’s true. And, I panicked. When I talked to Cavanaugh . . .” He stopped himself. What is it with these two and using each other’s’ last names only?

“When you talked to Bo, what?” Bo. See, filter gone.

“I think he likes you, Ember.” His eyes squared in complete seriousness.

“Do you now? And what would make you say something like that?”

Besides the fact you’ve had song sex, real sex, and he feels like he’s known you for . . .never mind.

“I could tell tonight. He had this look on his face when you and Monica tore out of Finnegan’s, and again when he saw you at the other place.” Adrian struggled to find the words.

“It’s like he was protective of you, like he was seeing the stars for the first time, or something.” His mouth took on a disappointed frown.

“When the hell did you become an expert face reader, and poet, Adrian ‘all the ladies want me’ Turner?” I was anxious for his answer.

“Because, November, it’s the same look I saw when I looked in the mirror every single day that I was with you.”

Oh.

“Adrian, I . . .”

“Come on, you need to get to bed.” He stood quickly and held out his hand.

I held his hand all the way to my bedroom and, for a second, it felt like the old “us.” Unexpectedly, he turned toward the window as I unabashedly took off my pants and crawled into my bed.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, Turner,” I deadpanned. He didn’t respond. When I drew the covers up, he turned around with his hands in his pockets.

“You’re so drunk. I don’t feel comfortable leaving, Ember.” The poor boy looked tortured.

“So don’t,” I yawned and rolled over.