Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(23)

flips me off and sticks out his tongue, exposing his tongue ring.

“C.J., it’s not 1999, lose the barbell.” He flips me off again.

Regan draws his bow slowly across his fiddle once before speaking. “OK, Ember, the guys and I were talking about bringing some

Irish rock into the mix. Are you OK with that?” I lose myself in the movements of his lips with his muffled accent. “Hello?” He

snaps me out of it.

“Hm? Sorry. That sounds great, I guess, but I don’t really have a rock kind of voice ...”

“Oh, I think you’ll do just fine.” He ignores my concern and resumes stroking the strings with his bow.

“What’s the difference between a fiddle and a violin?” I ask, studying the instrument that looks like a violin to me.

Regan stops and considers his fiddle, twisting it in the space between us. “Fiddle’s just a nickname.” He winks and places his

chin back on his “nickname.” He’s intriguing. He’s cool, confident, but seems safe. I need to figure him out.

As he vacillates between fast and slow rhythms, I find myself watching his hands and swaying along with him. I’m transported back

to my childhood, once again watching my dad play for my mom while I peeked from my bedroom. Monica sneaks up behind me and hooks

her arm through mine, swaying in time.

“He’s a goddamn dream, isn’t he?” Monica bats her eyelashes.

“I’ll say. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to watch this fiddle-playing god.”

Regan chuckles but keeps playing, as Monica gushes.

“Jesus, Mon, Josh is right there!” I point to Josh, who sits and shakes his head.

“Not for me, smartass, for you.”

What?

“What?” I unlink my arm from hers.

Monica places her hands on her hips. “Come on. You’re a free woman. You’ve taken the dive back on stage here, you’re having fun

—you’re over it. Let’s move on.”

Monica is clearly trying to divert my attention from Adrian, and that irritates me, but I don’t want to get into it.

“I met Regan nine seconds ago. Plus, he might have a girlfriend ...”

“I don’t.” Regan stops playing and turns to face us with a crooked grin.

Whispering fail.

“All right, lovers, can we play now?” C.J. thumps the bass drum, and we fall into place as I kick Monica off stage.

Thankfully, I don’t embarrass easily, or rehearsal would be a total waste of time. Regan’s taste is even folksier than Josh’s,

and I fall into an easy rhythm with him. He plays songs that are familiar and beautiful, and Josh and C.J. are able to catch on

quickly. When he’s not playing, Regan sings with a tone that has me envisioning a gorgeous emerald mountain. I realize that while

the stage at Finnegan’s will always be backlit by Bo Cavanaugh, I’m more than capable of crafting new memories here. I want to.

Josh sets his guitar on its stand as we finish. “Great job, guys. Let’s definitely do those last two songs next week.”

“Sounds good. Who’s playing here Saturday?” Thankful that Finnegan’s closed on Tuesdays, I walk behind the bar and pour myself

a beer.

Josh and C.J. share an uncomfortable glance before Josh shrugs. “It was supposed to be Bo ...”

Oh.

“What do you mean supposed to be? Did he cancel?” I walk back to Monica, who looks as confused as I do.

Josh hops off the stage and meets Monica and me at our table. C.J. and Regan talk in hushed tones by the drum set. “We kind of

didn’t know how to handle it. I texted him last week to see if he was still interested, and he said he didn’t want to make you

uncomfortable.”

“Who’s Bo?” Regan helps himself to a beer and joins us.

Everyone stares everywhere but at me.

“You guys can quit it with the awkward silence.” I cast disapproving eyes to my friends, and then turn to Regan. “Bo’s an ex-

boyfriend. Well, boyfriend might be a loose term since we dated for less than two weeks, but we cared a lot ...you know what, he’s

an ex-boyfriend as of almost two weeks ago. That’s all.”

I feel my throat twitch slightly, but I remind it that those yoga tears were the last. Regan’s eyes ask for more. One of his

eyebrows pulls inward as he takes a breath, but he seems to decide against pressing for information. He’s not getting it tonight,

anyway.

“Well, Regan will be here, you should come watch Bo with him since Josh and I will be out of town.” Monica toasts the air, and I

mentally punch her in the face.

“Oh sure, why not?” I play along with Monica’s version of revenge. Truth is, I’m not sure if I’ll be in town Saturday or not.

And, I don’t know if any amount of intended revenge could make me feel comfortable enough to watch Bo play at Finnegan’s. “I’ll

see you here Saturday, Regan.”

Before things get any weirder, I head home to pack for Concord. And Boston.



*



The last two days in Concord have gone off without a hitch. As promised by his email weeks ago, Bo is largely office and meeting