Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)(70)

“Look, I’m not going to say anything and I won’t act any different to him out there, but I can tighten my guard around him for sure. Adrian didn’t sound too pleased-”

“You called Adrian?” He growled through clenched teeth.

“Yes, psychopath. I called Adrian because Bill scared me and I wanted to know how soon Adrian was getting here.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me instead, Ember? Why did you have to run to Turner?” He stared into the empty sink, gripping it.

“No, this isn’t going to turn into an Adrian vs. Bo thing. Does Bill have something to do with the blackmail? Just give me an answer and I’ll drop it till later when we can talk about it at your house.” I placed my hand on his steaming hot back.

“Yes. He does. And, it’ll be all over soon, so don’t worry about anything, OK?” With his head still hanging, he turned to look at me. His eyes were shrouded in exhaustion.

“OK, I trust you. Can we please go drink heavily now? That’s the only way I can be around Bill Holder.”

Bo’s face warmed again against my words of reassurance.

“Ok Rock Star, just don’t tumble in those nosebleed heels like you did the last time you wore them,” he chuckled as he led me to the dance floor.

“Deal, as long as you don’t let me go home with anyone else like the last time I wore them.” I shot my eyebrow sky high.

“Cold, Ember. Real Cold,” he feigned hurt while theatrically grabbing his stomach.

On the way to the dance floor, we stopped by the bar and I opted for a cosmopolitan. One glance at the crowded bump-and-grind told me my drink wouldn’t last two seconds out there before ending up down the front of my dress. With a smirk I poured the ice cold drink down my throat in one gulp, grateful for the instant calming effects of vodka.

“What, you want a repeat performance of that dog place?” Bo asked, referring to Lost Dog-the night Adrian took me home.

“I don’t want those *s spilling my drink.” I nodded to the dancing fools. “Get me one more and I’ll be set to go out and tear it up.”

One more gulp of a cosmopolitan restored my equilibrium-and buried my inhibitions. Bo and I swung freely across the dance floor, though I couldn’t seem to shake Bill’s eye as he leaned back with his elbows up on the bar.

“I meant it, you know,” Bo’s lips on my ear caught my attention over Bill.

“Meant what?” I stopped dancing and grabbed his hips.

“Forever.”

I staggered back, feeling the equal effects of the uneasy feeling in my stomach and the vodka.

“I meant it too, Bo . . . we’ll just have to navigate it-”A tiny hand wrapping over Bo’s shoulder stopped me.

Ainsley.

“Bo, can I steal you away for a minute?” Seduction was her game.

“Go ahead Babe, I need another drink anyway,” I said, my eyes unmoving from Ainsley as I asserted my position.

Bo shot me a look of sardonic thanks as he moved across the dance floor with Ainsley. I turned back to the bar and ordered another cosmopolitan while I avoided the sight of them. I knew who he’d be going home with tonight; poor Ainsley.

“So, November, are you and Bo, like, a thing?” Bill Holder shouldered next to me and I could feel the steel of his arm muscles pulse in to me.

This is exactly the question I was hoping to avoid until after the meeting tomorrow. So, I shook my head dismissively.

“Not really.” I opted to look him straight in the eye.

“Oh, well, in that case, can I have this dance?” He placed his arm loosely around my middle.

Shit.

“I’d like to finish my drink first if you don’t mind.” I twirled out of his hold as fluidly as I could and leaned my front against the bar.

“Sweet moves, November.” Bill wasn’t going to go down easy. He stood next to me but put one hand on the bar across my back.

Perfect, now you’re trapped against the bar. With one more turn I faced Bill, and looked over to Bo and Ainsley, who had no idea what was happening between me and Bill.

“I’m set, Bill, but thanks.” I chanced rolling my eyes, not knowing if it would set him off.

“Hey Bill, what’s up?” A young man with a much calmer voice and sunnier disposition bounded beside Bill, slapping him on the back.

He was significantly shorter than Bill, and far less threatening looking. He had short bouncy blonde curls that gave me some sort of comfort.

“This gorgeous lady, here, is the grant writer for The Hope Foundation, and came here on Bo’s arm tonight,” Bill sneered. Sneered.

Chills exploded up my spine and bile bubbled in my throat as I forced myself to believe I was hallucinating the reason why Bill gave me such bad feeling.

“If she came with Bo, Bro, you better keep your hands off,” his friend said in an eerily calming tone that inexplicably also gave me a bad feeling.

“Don’t be such a *, dude, like I’d piss Bo off in here.” Bill gestured with his hands.

An auditory memory pulsed through my ears; Max, just get in the truck if you’re going to be a useless *.

No, it couldn’t be.

I turned one more time so my back was to Bo, but I was no longer pinned against the bar.

“Take it easy, Bill, just trying to save your hide,” his friend elbowed him playfully in the ribs.