Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(84)

“It’s OK, Ember, your dad and I talked about it last night. I’d love to fly them out to record in the studio.” Oh, so he and my

dad were chatting when I wasn’t around...special.

Michael, Willow’s dad, pipes up. “Raven and Ashby tell us you two came up with a piano version of “San Diego.” Care to share it

with us?”

“Oh, did they? I didn’t ...” My ears burn in embarrassment. Bo. Bo told them. I chuckle, wondering which parts of that night he

included in the story. “Oh, what the hell.” San Diego is breathing fresh life into me, a life with less inhibition.

Bo walks over to the piano and pats the bench next to him. All seven sets of eyes, Willow’s included, are on us as he starts

playing and I sing:



“The San Diego sun setting in your eyes

The taste of salt and sweet summertime ...”



Bo joins in at the right spot and I watch, from the corner of my eye, my parents and their best friends wiping tears from their

eyes as we sing their song at the top of our lungs. When it’s over, the shocked-silence lasts a nanosecond before deafening

applause takes over. A second later, we’re accosted by a pile of hippie hugs.

“November Blue! That was amazing!” My mom squeezes both Bo and I at the same time.

“Will you two consider recording some tracks with us?” Natalie, the third female in The Six, casts a sudden silence over the

room.

I swallow hard. “What? Are you serious?”

“Of course they’re serious, Ember,” Willow squeals. “You two are friggin gold! What do you say?”

“Just let them think about it for a while, would you?” Michael elbows Willow, who shrugs. She winks a hazel eye at me before she

drops the subject.

I look at Bo, who’s grinning like a schoolboy, biting his lip as he stares at the piano keys. He loves this as much as I do.

After sitting back on the couches for a while, listening to The Six play and record, I walk outside for some fresh air and

sunshine. My mom follows closely behind me.

She rests her hand between my shoulder blades. “You’re happy, Ember.”

“Of course I am, Mom. I was just in a room with my favorite people on the planet.” I rest my head on her shoulder.

“You look amazing, too. You’ve been doing yoga again?”

“Yeah, for the last few months...since Rae died, actually.”

My mom pulls me into a hug. “Bo is absolutely wonderful. Watching him look at you reminds me of when I first met your father. He

had that same look on his face.”

“He still does, Mom. Dad loves you so much it’s not even embarrassing to watch.”

“You have that, too, Honey. Hold on to it. For dear life.”



*



“You were quiet during dinner,” Bo grabs my hand as we walk down the beach at sunset.

“Just thinking,” I sigh.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

I find a quiet spot and sit in the sand facing the horizon.

“I think I want to leave The Hope Foundation.”

“Really?” He sounds mildly surprised.

“Yeah. I mean, I can do freelance grant writing. I could still help where Hope needed me, but I’d like to work with DROP again.

To be honest, David’s been hounding me about it since I left.” I chuckle.

“He is relentless, if nothing else.” Bo shifts so his knees are bent and he’s leaning back on his hands.

“It would also free up some time to do...other things, I guess ...” My heart races as I prepare what I’m about to say.

Bo sits back up. “What’s going on, Ember?” He takes my hand, which is incredibly hot under my nerves. He kisses it regardless.

“I want to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Record. With my parents, me, you...whoever. I want to call Elizabeth Cantwell and perform in front of however many people she can

get to come. I want to live with you and never stop kissing you. I just want to go.” As I talk, Bo’s smile widens with his eyes.

He squeezes my hand.

“November Harris, are you asking me to run away and play the guitar with you?”

“Maybe.” I shrug.

“What happened to Ms. “I’m-not-that-kind-of-girl” and “I don’t fly by the seat of my pants,” he teases me about the first

in-depth conversation we ever had in my apartment months ago.

“You happened. You reminded me that I’ve been that kind of girl all along.”

Bo leans forward, sweeping my hair aside, and resting his hand on the back of my neck. His soft lips brush against mine, teasing me

for a second before I lean in to meet him. He grants my tongue access to his hot mouth, and we sit, kissing, for several minutes as

the sun sets in front of us.

“It would be a big move,” I tell the Pacific.

Bo pulls me into his embrace. “It would.”

“Do you like yurts?” I chuckle, nervous that I’ve dumped too much on him at once.

His finger lifts my chin. “I’d follow you to the beginning of time, to the end of time, and back, November. Just say when.”