Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

“He is a jackass,” Bo interrupted through gritted teeth.

“Easy! I know Adrian well enough to know that he wasn’t telling me that to get back in my pants. Believe me, a guy like Adrian Turner does not have to use ‘the L word’ to get what he wants.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, haven’t you seen him with women around here? Don’t they just throw themselves at him? You said you knew he was ‘fast’ with women.”

“I haven’t spent much time with him apart from being with you; I just know guys like him.”

“Oh, well, you’ll see tonight-he doesn’t have to do anything but walk in a room-kind of like you.” I smirked.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, do not compare me to Adrian.” Bo rolled his eyes, exasperated, as he turned down his driveway.

“What the hell is your issue with him? As far as I can tell, he did you a huge favor by not telling me about the blackmail even though he had ample opportunity to. But, he let, or made, you do it. Did he make you do it?”

“No, he didn’t make me do it Ember, Jesus. We covered this already; for a split fucking second Adrian knew you better than I did, and pointed out that you would likely figure the whole thing out eventually.” The leather of the steering wheel groaned under his tightening grip.

“Right, and that split second is over, I’m all yours. I was all yours before Adrian ever showed up, and I’ll be all yours long after he moves on.” I pried his right hand off the wheel and smoothed my fingers across his.

Bo maintained the strained silence as he drove down his driveway and I shook my head thinking about going out later. Perhaps I’ll text Adrian and tell him not to come.

“Is it going to be all weird tonight having Adrian there-if he decides to show up?” I asked as Bo exited the car.

“Oh, he’ll show up. And, no, it’s fine.” Bo slammed the door. “Hey, why are you just sitting there-are you pissed?” He crossed over to my door.

“Just waiting for you to open the door,” I shrugged and his face cracked as he let out a raucous laughter.

“Come on, let’s get ready so we can go have a quiet dinner before we introduce Ainsley and Adrian - if Ainsley shows up, that is.” Bo winked as he opened the door and swooped me into his arms.

“Oh, she’ll show up.” I mocked his previous tone, as he carried me up the front steps to his house.





Chapter Twenty-Two

“Oh, come on, are you really wearing that?!” Bo rolled over and buried his face in his pillow as I strutted across the room.

“You bet your sweet ass I’m wearing this,” I purred in to the mirror, brushing off the bright red, backless halter dress as I steadied myself in my nude patent heels.

“OK, why are you wearing it? Are you trying to incite a riot?” His voice rang with lively wickedness as he lifted his head from his pillow.

“Ha, quite the opposite actually. I’m wearing this for several reasons. One, I look hot in it, two, you know I look hot in it, and three, there’s no other way to prove to you that Adrian’s not trying to get in my panties unless I wear this very dress. He’ll look, don’t be fooled, but if he has any residual feelings for me, they’ll throw themselves on the floor in front of me.” I turned to see him sitting slack-jawed.

Adrian totally has feelings for you, Blue. Let’s hope he doesn’t act on them.

“Alright, you cock tease, what if he does throw himself in front of you?” Bo’s laugh echoed in the room.

“Permission granted to kick his ass . . . if I don’t do it first. And, I never tease-you know that. Now, get yourself all prettied up; you can’t be seen with me looking like that.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll change. But first . . . I want to give you this.” From under his bed, Bo produced a wrapped package with a card taped on the front.

“What’s this?” I charmed, slinking toward him.

“A little something from the real me to the real you, November.”

Ignoring the card, like an excited child, I tore the wrapping open. Inside was a hard cover music composition notebook; it was all black with no wording on the front. I cracked open the front cover and my eyes welled with tears. There, on the first page, was the lullaby, my lullaby, with Bo’s original accompaniment, scribed in his hand.

Seeming to sense my lack of words, Bo grabbed my knee, “It was incomprehensible to me that someone with your talent didn’t own one of these.” He cocked his head, “I wanted to be the one to lead the way. You need to take yourself seriously here, November. I’ve been playing for years, and your raw talent supersedes most that have spent years in a studio,” he encouraged through pleading eyes.

“Bo,” I choked at the sight of my past and anticipative future together in one gorgeous visual harmony, sitting between us in the present, “this is . . .”

“Forever, Ember. Something brought me in to Finnegan’s that night. Something sparked in me when we shook hands before you sang-”