Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

Activate launch sequence.

Ainsley’s eyes immediately shot to our hands, then my eyes, then his eyes, and back to our hands. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat and tried to pry her eyes from our hands to my eyes, “Ember, is it?”

Here we go.

“Yes, it is. November Harris, actually, pleased to meet you Ainsley.” I broke my grip from Bo and stuck my hand out.

“That’s an . . . interesting name.” Her dead-fish grip held mine for a split second before she clasped her hands in front of her.

“Thank you!” Two can cheer.

Ainsley speared her eyes in to mine before looking slowly to Bo, who nodded almost imperceptibly to her.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to my girls, see ya later.” She walked quickly back to her gaggle of friends.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen her back down like that before. Well done Ms. Harris.” Admiration oozed from Bo’s pores.

“It’s the dress. Told you it’s a good one.”

As the second glass of champagne numbed my mouth, I noticed a large man across the dance floor. He seemed to be making his way toward us with a cocky smile on his face.

“Is that a friend of yours?” I shouted over the now blaring thumps of Ludacris.

When Bo glanced over his shoulder he released my hand and his shoulders sank for a minute. “That’s Bill Holder.”

“He’s an enormous son of a bitch; did he play football with you?” The hair on the back of my neck stood higher the closer Bill came.

“He played, but not with me, he’s Rachel’s age. Let me warn you, he’s great at what he does for DROP, but he’s a massive asshole-real cocky.”

While Bo’s tone tried to be playful, it made me edgy. I suddenly wished for a shawl to cover myself with, especially when Bill’s eyes settled on me. His imposing shadow strapped my shoulders against the booth and my pulse raced. I let out a long-held breath as he smiled-rather arrogantly-and gripped Bo’s shoulders.

“Hey brother, what’s goin’ on?” Bill sat, uninvited, next to Bo, who rolled his eyes.

Seeming to ignore his inquisition, Bo nodded in my direction, “Bill, this is November Harris from The Hope Foundation. She’s their grant writer.”

Bill extended his massive hand across the table and, quickly, I put on my best business smile and returned the greeting, “Nice to meet you. Can I call you Bill?”

“Absolutely,” he said unctuously.

The vibration from my phone made me jump half way out of the seat, which startled me further given how loud the pub had become; it was a text from Monica.

Monica: Hey Em! See you tomorrow, how’s your weekend been?

I smiled politely at Bill and Bo before I padded my text back.

Me: Weekend’s been great. Wait till you meet Rachel, Bo’s sister-she’s a riot. I actually just met Bill (William) Holder, their grant writer . . . he kind of gives me the creeps-huge guy. How are things with Josh?

Monica: Things are good, almost back to where they were :) Kick that Bill guy in the nuts if he acts like an asshole!

Me: Will do :-*

“So, Bill, Bo tells me you played football?” Maybe if I get him talking more he won’t creep me out so much.

“Fuckin’ right I did, State Champs, baby!” While his smile was genuine, his voice didn’t settle right in my gut. Something is off.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to use the restroom.” I forced a smile and slid carefully out of the booth; fighting the growing urge to run. From what?

Bo’s eyes followed me all the way out of the booth and, I assumed, down to the bathroom. When I entered the bathroom I cursed my makeup for preventing me from splashing water on my face, like I so desperately wanted to. Instead, I took a few cleansing breaths against the cold tile of the bathroom wall, thankful for my backless dress. I picked up my phone and dialed Adrian’s number; he answered on the first ring.

“Hey Em, did you get my text? I’m running late.”

“No I didn’t. Shit.” The gong of my heartbeat started to reach my ears.

“Everything OK?”

“Um, I just met Bill Holder. He’s talking to Bo and I’m in the bathroom. He kind of gives me the creeps, Adrian . . .”

“Did he say or do anything to you?” Panic shot through the phone and closed my throat.

“No . . .why? Adrian, what’s going on, does this have anything to do with-”

“Ember, I’ll be there as soon as I can, just relax and hang with Bo, OK?”

“Where the hell are you anyway?” I couldn’t calm myself down.

“On my way back from Portsmouth.”

“Jesus, Adrian, that’s like an hour away!”

“Relax, I’m more than half way there. Met up with some friends at Smuttynose and the afternoon got away from us.” He sounded far more relaxed than I needed him to be. “Everything’s fine, Blue. Be there soon.” Blue. He keeps doing that.