Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)(36)

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming, Spencer?” The cool accusation caused Monica to shift in her seat.

Bo lifted his chin and confidently retorted, “November, check your email. You will find one sent yesterday evening, informing you of Mr. Turner’s intended travels. It was sent to you, Monica, Carrie, and your lawyer.” His voice was stained with equal parts command and irritation.

“I see.”

“I prefer to keep work at work, November.”

He had a point; not once had we discussed work in our private time. Adrian, however, wasn’t “work.” I knew it, and so did Bo. Accusing him of withholding information clearly hurt him. Still, I was beginning to think I didn’t care for Spencer, the alter ego to my beloved Bo.

“Well, I’m outta here.” Monica gave no further explanation as she slid past Bo and down to her office.

I stared at her empty chair a moment before returning my stare to Bo, who remained standing with his hands in his pockets.

“You’re awfully formal this morning,” I accused as I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs.

“I told you, November, I prefer to keep work at work.”

“Well, in that case, won’t you have a seat?” I threw a screw you eyebrow in his direction while I gestured with my hand to an empty seat across from my desk.

While I had been the one hell-bent on keeping my relationship with Bo professional as far as work was concerned, I was caught off guard by his distant language. The walls inside me began their ascent. Bo sat stone-still, never breaking our apparent staring contest. He opened his mouth to speak, but I was having none of that. I got up and shut the door to my office before I continued.

“I know, Mr. Cavanaugh, that you prefer to keep work at work, as do I. However, I take it rather personally when something like Adrian Turner coming to town warrants nothing from you other than a group email.” I sat down, retained my crossed arms and legs position and continued.

“A group email covers things like meeting times, Spencer, not information like Adrian.”

“Please stop calling me Spencer, Ember,” he charged through clenched teeth.

“That’s your work alias, isn’t it? And, are we not at work?”

Check your e-mail my ass.

“It’s your tone I don’t particularly care for, Ms. Harris.”

Now I didn’t care for his tone, and I was about to go for the kill.

“Last night, after you spoke with Adrian and knew of his plans to travel here tomorrow, you came to my house. We went for a walk on the damn beach at midnight. On that beach I cried about my feelings for you. On that beach you asked me about Adrian, Bo—you brought it up. I told you all there was to tell about him, and still you weren’t satisfied enough with my story to give me the decency of letting me know he was coming to town?” My interrogation rivaled anything I’d seen on Law & Order. Push those tears back. Now is not the time.

“You knew that Monica and I had no idea he was working for you. He is clearly up to something, and even you called him a smug bastard.” My jaw was painfully tight.

Bo broke under my intense visual scrutiny. He threw an exaggerated breath to the floor as his hands held his head. When he sat up his face was different, it was Bo - not Spencer. I suppressed my petty guilt at my uncompromising tone because I hadn’t yet heard what he had to say.

“November, I’m sorry,” he acknowledged, “I drove all the way back here with the intention of telling you about Adrian in person. He asked how you were doing. It killed me to tell him that you seemed happy when I couldn’t tell him that I felt I had a part in that. He smiled and wondered, out loud, if you were involved with anyone worthy of you. I just had to shrug.”

His honestly paralyzed me. Adrian was fishing for information, the way many people do, but it was to the wrong person, and no one could say a word.

“He lit up about seeing you again and it gnawed at my insides. I drove all the way back here to -”

“Pee on my leg.” I cut him off. While I knew he was working for an apology, the barbarism of this whole thing was suffocating.

“Jesus, Ember, give me a break!” He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “It’s not like that. Once you opened up to me about your parents, Adrian, and your feelings for me, I couldn’t ruin a perfectly good night. I wanted to talk to you about it this morning, but when I saw you in the sand with that guitar . . . the rest of the world stopped. I knew in that moment that Adrian Turner, Josh and Monica, work; none of it mattered.” He reached across the desk and put out his hand. I surrendered, setting my cold hand into his sweaty palm. You make him sweat.

“Ember, please, don’t be upset with me. I’ll fire Turner if it means we can forget about all of this,” he pleaded. Pleaded.

I wanted to weep in response to his honesty. Instead, I took a deep breath.

“Bo, it does matter. All of it matters, that’s the point. We just have to navigate it. We can’t blow past the storm in favor of calmer waters. And, please don’t fire Adrian. He’s good at what he does; he’ll figure out why you fired him and probably sue your ass off.” I smirked and inhaled again, knowing I needed to respond to his bearing-of-the-soul here in my office.

“Look, I’m sorry for being so taciturn in regards to Adrian. We were young and it was painful when it ended. I wouldn’t feel the same now, but my 21-year-old self still feels its rawness. So, yeah, it pissed me off that I wasn’t given a heads up. I could have shared the full emotional bloodbath with you, but I didn’t want that in your head. I don’t want your ex-girlfriends in my head.” Ouch. That was the first time I actually considered ex-girlfriends.