Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(71)

blonde hair glows as sunlight bounces off her empty head.

“What do you want, Ainsley?” I try to sound bored as I open the door, but my heart is galloping through my chest. I know exactly

what she wants.

She flips her hair over one shoulder and pushes past me and stands in the foyer. “What the hell are you still doing here? Don’t

you live in Massachusetts?”

“I do. Bo asked me to stay.”

Well, he didn’t, but it was kind of implied.

Ainsley dips her chin as her eyebrows curl into a wicked stare. “Oh, and I’m the tramp, am I?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You should. Why are you wearing his t-shirt? You really are no better than you make me out to be, are you?”

I calmly set my coffee on the small table reserved for keys and walk toward Ainsley. She wisely takes one step back.

“Bo asked me to stay. Unlike you, I didn’t muscle my way into his grief. God, you’re such an opportunist—a self-righteous one

at that. I’ll tell Bo you stopped by. I’m sure it’ll make his day.” I turn back to my coffee when Ainsley’s hand snakes around

my forearm, turning me to face her.

“Don’t you dare order me around, you arrogant bitch.”

I swallow my rage and my desire to smack her across the face. I settle for clenching my fist. My tone is cool.

“I suggest you let go of me.”

“Or what? Seriously, what will you do?”

I can’t swallow it anymore. I take my free hand and crack her porcelain cheek. It echoes through the house, as she drops my hand

and puts hers to her face. Her wide ice-blue eyes fill with tears, and I wonder for a moment if she’ll hit me back. I’ve never

hit anyone before, and she looks as surprised as I feel.

“Get the hell out of his house, Ainsley! If Bo wants you back, he knows where to find you.” I open the door and wait for her to

exit.

“Oh, he wants me here. If he didn’t, he would have asked me to leave the night you bailed on him after the concert.” With the

red cheek, her arched eyebrow makes her look maniacal.

Bo’s heavy footsteps down the stairs stop both of us. “I’m asking you to leave now, Ainsley.”

“But Spen -”

“Go. I’ll call you.” He says it so dismissively I wonder how she could possibly believe him. But, she seems to. She turns on her

heels, looking back once to eye me up and down, and leaves.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say as I close the door and reach for my coffee.

“Don’t be. She has issues.” He walks to the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee.

Standing in the doorway, I watch the muscles in his back flex underneath that sexy tattoo as he moves around the kitchen. I look

for signs that he doesn’t regret last night. His apparent unwillingness to make eye contact isn’t reassuring.

“I’m sorry about last night.” He finally speaks as he sits at the table.

My eyebrows pull together as I sit across from him. “I’m not.”

“I meant the lack of protection. You’re not on the pill, right?” He’s watching the creamer swirl through his coffee.

“Oh, that. It’s fine.” I sigh, thankful he doesn’t appear to regret having sex—just not wearing a condom.

“It was really disrespectful, and I could have gotten you-”

“Look, it’s OK,” my cheeks catch fire, “my cycle’s normal. We’re in the okay zone, it’s fine.” The thought of possible

pregnancy was far from my mind last night.

Bo sets his mug down and stares through my eyes—through my soul.

“Ember, it’s not ...”

“Bo, really ...” I shrug and we sit in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, drinking our coffee as darkness swirls between

us.

Reaching across the table, I grab his hand. Tight. He stares at our knuckles, rubbing his thumb over mine for a while, before

looking at me again.

“When did you two break up?” Bo brings up Adrian of all things.

“Um, the day after Josh and Monica’s engagement party.”

He pulls his hand away from mine and grips his mug with both hands. “Why?”

I watch him slide away from the table and head to the sink. I don’t think I like where this conversation is headed.

“We shouldn’t be together, Adrian and me. He knows you kissed me after the concert, I know I’m not myself when I’m with

him...obviously.” I tug at my jeans, half-blaming Adrian for their loosened state.

Bo stares at me for a while. The silence is killing me.

“I think you should go.” I’ve heard this tone before. I used it on him in Room 323 at The Centennial.

“What? Why?” Tears sting my eyes. “If this is about what happened with Ainsley, I’m sorry.”

Bo takes both of our mugs and sets them in the sink before turning around, gripping the counter as he leans his back against it.

“I love you, November. I want to be with you. But, not like this. I’ve got a long road ahead of me—”

I stand and walk, panicked, toward him. “I love you, too. I won’t leave you. People who love each other don’t leave each other