Bo & Ember (4 page)

“Ah, there’s my Spencer Cavanaugh, MBA, rearing his head.” I turned and kissed him on the cheek, using his given first name. While I’d first seen him on stage, I met him as
Spencer
in my office at The Hope Foundation. He was just as sexy in a suit and tie as he was behind a mic.

Okay, he was a bit hotter behind a mic.

Bo pulled away from our kiss and winced. “Regan and Georgia…”

“Rock, paper, scissors to see who has to go interrupt
them
?” I could hold my own with Regan, but Georgia was libel to cut a bitch over
coitus interruptus.

“My lovely wife, I promised for better or for worse. We’ll knock on that door together.” Bo laughed and held our door open for me. “You seemed excited when you got off the phone with Willow.”

I bit my lip. Normally, I’d be incredibly pissed to have my private moments with my husband interrupted, especially since they’d been few and far between over the last year. Tonight, though, I was filled with a focus I hadn’t had since moving to California.

Bo stopped us in the middle of the short hallway and placed his hands on my hips, turning me toward him. “You really
do
want this.”

“Shit,” I sighed, “I do. I want to keep us on the radar tonight and knock it out of the park tomorrow. You and Regan deserve it more, though. I mean you guys have been musicians your whole lives.”

“You have been, too. You just spent a hell of a lot longer fighting it.” Bo winked and kissed my nose before nodding to Regan and Georgia’s Door. “Ready.”

It was fairly quiet, though I tried really hard not to listen too closely. Bo and I reached our hands forward and knocked loudly and quickly, hoping to just get it over with.

“No, thank you!” Regan shouted, causing Bo and me to cover our mouths in laughter.

Bo cleared his throat and knocked again. “Dude, sorry, it’s Bo and Ember.”

“Well, go away, then!” Georgia shouted.

“You’ll hate us in the morning if you don’t open the door right now,” I added.

A second later, a sheet-wrapped Regan opened the door. His normally tied-back fiery hair was loose and thoroughly sexed. And, he looked pissed.

“If my violin isn’t on fire, you better run.” He looked between the two of us with manic intensity.

Bo spoke as clearly and quickly as he could, while I trained my eyes on Regan’s face. I was married, not dead. Regan had an impeccable body. A little thinner than I care for, but nothing to disregard. Before Bo finished his pitch, Regan held up his hand.

“Meet you downstairs in five.”

After an anxious ten-minute drive, the four of us arrived in the parking lot of Sand Castle.

“This place?” Georgia looked around.

The club seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, though in the area we were, nothing was the middle of nowhere. Especially not during a
Live at the Vineyard
weekend. The parking lot was packed and people stood in casual clusters outside, smoking and talking. Also, there was an incredibly long line that wrapped around the building.

I put my hand on the door. “I don’t usually get nervous in social situations, but—”

Bo put his hand on my arm. “You’re right. You don’t. You’re fine. Be your beautiful self and let everything else take care of itself.” He winked again and grinned.

“You’re awfully winky today,” I teased.

“It’s because I get to look at you almost every second of my life.” He leaned across the center of the car and kissed my cheek.

“No,” Georgia cut in. “You two didn’t cock-block me to make me sit through
Lifetime: Bo and Ember
.”

Bo laughed and stuck his tongue out at Georgia. “It’s just too easy to get under your skin sometimes, you know?”

“You’re an asshole, Cavanaugh.” She chuckled as she exited the vehicle.

I’d texted Willow when we’d reached the parking lot, so I wasn’t surprised to see her standing next to the bouncer outside the door. Her face lit up in an enthusiastic smile. She waved to us and whispered into the bouncer's ear. He grinned, I rolled my eyes, and he nodded us in when we reached the steps.

“Whatever she promised you, she’s lying.” I smiled at the beefy—but blushing—bouncer.

Once inside, Willow smacked my shoulder. “Why do you do that all the time?”

“Why do
you
do
that
all the time? He looks like he’s still in college, Willow. You’re almost thirty.”

“Oh, shut up. Guys our age are either married, committed, or gay. Plus, the twenty-year-olds are
excellent
in bed. Stamina wise, anyway.”

“Amen to that!” Georgia shouted as she weaved her way in front of us and toward the bar.

Willow gestured toward Georgia. “Go, get a drink and do a lap or two. I’ll be up in the DJ booth for the next few songs.”

“Are you going to tell us who is who?”

She shook her head. “You’ll get all self-conscious. Just do you.”

With that, Willow danced her way back to the DJ booth, where the current occupant handed her a set of headphones and seemed to immerse her in conversation.

Bo slid his arm around my shoulders, and Regan walked on the other side of me as we met Georgia at the bar. I ordered a cosmopolitan, needing something to quickly calm my nerves but not render me completely useless. It’d been so long since I’d been in a dance club.

Come to think of it, Bo and I had
never
been to a dance club like this together before. We’d been in bars and done shows together at places kind of like this, but never as patrons. Needing to loosen up and not think about how many—if any—eyes were on us at the moment, I quickly finished my drink and set it on the bar.

Bo and Regan leaned against the bar, casually talking as they sipped beer. I tugged Georgia’s arm.

“Come dance with me,” I said into her ear.

“I don’t dance,” she mused.

“You’re full of shit. I’ve seen you at our shows.”

Georgia could be counted on, at any show she attended, to get the crowd moving.

She grinned. “This is Sean Paul. You guys have a slightly different flavor.”

“Just come!” I laughed and she followed.

I caught Willow’s eye as she stepped to the front of the controls and took over the beats for the club. She grinned and started playing a mashup I knew she’d been working on in the studio. Rap and Reggae beats blared from the speakers.

Georgia and I worked our bodies to the beats, and I was jealous of the way her curves moved with each step she made. She exuded sensuality with a simple shift of her hips. Still, I used what I knew I had and let the music move me.

“Don’t turn around,” Georgia arched her eyebrow and looked over my shoulder, “but somebody’s liking the way you move.”

Thinking she was teasing me about Bo being behind me, I quickly whipped around. Biting my lip as sexily as possible, of course. I was nearly knocked backward by the shock that awaited me.

“Beckett?” My eyes bulged as I struggled to believe my eyes.

“November Blue.” He grinned with the sly confidence he’d embodied since he was far too young to know what to do with it.

In the tick of a second I was tossed back to high school, and my first time.

Bo

R
egan and I watched our girls move out onto the dance floor, each silently thankful we weren’t being dragged along with them … yet. To be fair, I’d never been dragged anywhere by Ember, because I would basically follow her anywhere. But we’d never danced together in a club like this, and I wasn’t sure how I’d stack up.

“So, whaddaya think, man?” Regan took a swig of his beer and leaned back against the bar. “Do you think we have a shot at something big here?”

I took a deep breath and shrugged, then nodded, which made him smile. “I think we do. It feels like we’re, like,
right there
, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I know there are lots of moving pieces, but…”

“I know. What does Georgia think about all of this?” As I spoke, my eyes were scanning the room. I was searching for anyone I recognized from the constant industry research I subjected myself to in order to feel like I knew a fraction of what was going on around me.

Regan smiled. “She says I’ve got to grab this by the balls. She knows how hard I’ve worked, and she’s well aware of the sacrifices even a minor recording contract would require. But, she’s supportive. What do you think Ember wants?”

I took another breath and looked over the crowd of dancing sex and found my wife, moving with every fiber of her being. “She’s afraid to say it out loud, but I think she wants a big label. I know nothing with any label is guaranteed, but if I put myself in Ember’s place, a big label is more financially stable and can generate stronger contracts. Plus, more travel.”

Regan nodded. “I don’t want to get ahead of ourselves, though. Shouldn’t we just enjoy where we’re at right now? Keep our eyes on the horizon and push, of course, but we have to be careful that our desires don’t get further ahead of us than we’re ready for.”

He was absolutely right. Everything we’d spent the last several days speculating about—months, really, since that’s how long we’d known about the Vineyard—was just that. Speculation. If we got wrapped up in the maybes, we’d miss the right now. And that was something the three of us always tried to focus on.

I nodded and clinked my bottle against his. “Voice of reason. Nice. Wanna go out there before they drag us?” I nodded my head to the dance floor.

Regan squinted in their direction. “Looks like someone beat you to it, bud.”

Craning my neck to the side, I saw Ember gazing almost stupefied at a guy that looked about her age. He was probably about six feet, and sandy brown hair that hung well past his ears, though it was swiped away from his face.

“Kinda looks like you, doesn’t he?” Regan interrupted my thoughts.

“You’re a dick.” I playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“Wanna go find out who it is? It looks like she knows him.”

I tilted my head toward Regan. “Are you a girl? For real. If he’s someone I need to know, she’ll introduce me.”

Regan set his second beer bottle on the bar and nodded back in her direction. “I’d say it’s someone you need to know.”

I looked over the crowd once more, and found Ember reach up and hug this unidentified stranger. I turned my back to the crowd and eyed Regan seriously.

“We don’t do the jealousy thing.”

“I respect that.” He nodded. “Neither do we.”

“If that was Adrian Turner, on the other hand…” I chuckled as I threw back my third beer, finally feeling the nerves from the day slip away.

Regan eyed the DJ booth. “Willow is kicking ass in there. Who knew she could mix like that?”

As I focused my attention on the conversation with my friend, a few young women appeared behind us.

“Excuse me,” one of them said as softly as she could for being in such a loud space.

“Oh, sorry.” I moved to the side to allow her access to the bar.

“Oh, no … thank you … but, you’re Bo Cavanaugh and Regan Kane, aren’t you?”

I fixed my gaze on the group, then on Regan who was fighting a smile.

“I am. You are?” I didn’t want to assume they were fans.

“Kelly.” The medium-height redhead bit her lip as she stuck out her hand. Lip biting, I’d learned, was always intentional. Not always challenging, but always on purpose.

I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Kelly. Have we met before?”

She giggled at a decibel that put her age around twenty-one. “No, but we saw your show tonight. Not just tonight, I mean. Yeah, we saw it tonight, but I’ve listened—”

Her shorter, blonde friend cut her off by attempting to discreetly smack her in the arm.

“So you were at the show tonight?” Regan seemed to intentionally dial up his latent Irish accent.

Kelly blushed the color of her hair and nodded. “I’ve played the violin for years. Thank you for making it cool.”

That comment took Regan off guard. Where he’d tried to be suave and charming at the beginning of the conversation, he was left speechless, scrunching his eyebrows.

“Trust me,” Kelly continued, “you make it cool. All my friends at the conservatory are listening to you. I wrote a paper on you guys last semester.”