Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(42)

microphone hanging from the ceiling above it.

“Is that mic hooked up?” I ask without releasing his hand.

What’s happening?

“Yeah, why? You want to try it out?” I think he squeezes my hand, but I can’t be sure—I lost all sense of rational feeling the

second he grabbed it.

“Y-yeah.” I have to swallow feeling back into my throat as I tug my hand away and head for the piano.

Bo walks to the control room and plays around with a few switches as I squirm on the hard lacquered bench.

“Don’t stand in there the whole time. It makes me feel weird.” I giggle. “Plus, I need you to hit a “C” for me before I try

this out; I have no idea which keys are which.”

His heavy sigh fills the two-way speaker from the control room. Bo walks almost robotically toward me and dings the middle “C” on

the piano. I hum in an attempt to tune. He strikes the key one more time. My heart is racing, but I’ve wanted to sing into one of

these mics forever—they’re simply stunning and make me feel glamorous. I fly through the song Rolodex in my brain until I settle

on the only option, the most beautiful song I’ve ever sung before—“San Diego” by The San Diego Six, my parents’ band.

“The San Diego sun setting in your eyes The taste of salt and sweet summertime”

Even though my parents only sang with Six until I was about eight, they sang this song to each other often. It’s upbeat and sweet.

It sounds like sunshine. My mom always started the song, and I’d blush through the second half of the first verse.

“Days were short, but the nights were long Crashing through waves wrapped up in your arms”

I start to hum the musical interlude when I feel Bo sit next to me. In an instant, the piano sings the part my father wrote for

guitar in this song. Holy shit. This song is on the album Bo has in his studio. My mouth runs dry, and for a second, I forget the

words to the next verse as my heart takes over all noise in my head. I clear my throat to reach for my dad’s part in the song, but

Bo beats me to it, “Oh sweet mama don’t make me go

Take my hand, mmm don’t say no

Dancin’ through San Diego with you That’s where I want to go

Mmm I say dancin’ through San Diego with you That’s where I want to go”

My cheeks burn as I turn to watch Bo sing the chorus of my parents’ song without any help from me. I’ve been rendered speechless.

His fingers skate across the keys, and his eyes are closed so tightly his lashes have disappeared. All levity has left me as I lean

forward to stand and walk away from the piano. Bo stops playing when he feels me shift.

“Ember, stop.” He grabs my wrist and pulls my arm toward him. I meet his eyes and see them catch fire as they look me over.

Goosebumps form on my skin under his watchfulness.

Neither one of us says anything for what feels like a Thousand. Damn. Lifetimes. I wriggle my wrist out of his grip and slide off

the piano bench. Bo drives his fist across the keys and the raucous clamor of notes makes me jump.

“Damn it, Ember, what the hell?” He leaps to face me and we’re standing toe-to-toe, my chin lifted to meet his eyes.

“Me, what the hell? You, what the hell. You take me out of a concert to bring me to a studio, and then you play and sing along

with me to my parents’ song?” I’m yelling and I don’t care.

“No, you, what the hell.” He points his finger in my face. “You bait Ainsley at lunch, don’t let go of my hand when we walk in

here, and then you want to sing in here? We haven’t spoken more than a few words at a time to each other in the last few weeks,

and you start singing in my studio like nothing’s wrong.” He lowers his hand to his hip and takes a massive breath.

“What do you mean like nothing’s wrong? What the f*ck is wrong here?”

“Everything is f*cking wrong here, November. I’m in love with you. I’m absolutely crazy about you, and you dance around my

organization like walking away from us was the easiest thing you’ve ever done.” His face darkens under his true thoughts about my

actions.

“The easiest thing I’ve ever done? I did nothing but cry and scream for a damn week after I left here. You didn’t even try to

call me, Bo! You didn’t even try ...” My voice breaks into traitorous tears as I recall the heartbreak I felt when he didn’t

come after me. He left me alone. Just like I asked.

“Don’t pull those tears on me now. You’ve got to be kidding me. I was on my damn knees in your ex-boyfriend’s hotel room

begging you to listen to me, and you expect me to chase you after he had to drive me home? How self-righteous do you intend to be,

exactly?”

His words punch holes in my heart, and, I admit, my ego. I brush past him and head for the stairs, my vision blurred with angry,

defeated tears. I make it one step past Bo before he grabs my arm, spinning me to face him.

“What?” I demand, trying to regain control of my arm.

“You love me, November. I know you do. I see it on your face and feel it from you whenever we’re together. Why won’t you let