Ten Days of Perfect (27 page)

“Hey, don’t be sorry. I had vivid night terrors the year after my parents died.” He squeezed me tighter, “What was it about?”

“Just . . . being chased.” I shrugged as the nightmare slipped away.

“Well, good thing you run.” He playfully rolled me over and swatted my butt, eliciting a horrifically
girlish giggle from my throat.

“Can we go to Concord yet? Do you have to check out of your hotel?” I smirked as I stepped out of bed.

“We can leave whenever, I checked out last night.” He winked as he rose to meet me at my bedroom door.

“Overconfident much?” I playfully punched him in the stomach as he slid past me and headed for the bathroom

I stared at the closed bathroom door, remembering
our night.
All the anxiety and stress from our morning dealing with Josh, to the revelation of Bo’s blackmailing, slipped away
as soon as we left Finnegan’s.

When we returned to my apartment, I got in the shower. Having heard a small knock on the door, I poked my head out from behind the curtain; Bo stood before me in naked splendor. Wordlessly, I let him in. We spent several minutes soaping each other, washing the heavy off our shoulders and down our backs. He lifted me against the shower wall and kissed me without mercy or pause. He carried me to the bedroom before we collapsed breathlessly in each other’s arms. Passion toweled us dry against my sheets until dawn. Yes, last night was a home run.

“Yo, Dream Girl, you
OK
?” Bo was suddenly in front of me, snapping
me out of my memory
.

“Are you picking on me for having a nightmare?” My brow furrowed.

“Jesus, no, sorry,” he chuckled, “you’re just…never mind.” He smiled as he lifted me and spun me around. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he breathed into my ear.

* * *

I called Monica before Bo and I left. I told her I talked to Josh last night, and encouraged her to spend the weekend really talking with him and working it out
-
they were so good together I couldn’t bear the disaster that would follow a full break up.

As we headed off the Cape, I thumbed through Bo’s CDs and his iPod.

“Indigo Girls, Alanis, The Wailin’ Jennys . . . are you sure there’s not a vagina hiding in this car somewhere?” I teased as I looked back and mockingly searched.

Bo chuckled,
“I like good music, and that
is good music; there are some balls in there - keep looking.” He grinned as he grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips.

After a few minutes of Mumford and Sons, I took a breath and forged ahead with the question I rehearsed in my h
ead all night and this morning.

“What’s the blackmail about?” I turned to face him.

Bo swallowed hard and released my hand, placing
his back on the steering wheel.
“I’m not really supposed to-”

“Fuck Adrian Turner
.
” I cut him off.

“It’s not just that, Ember . . .”

“Well either it’s such a big deal that you should drop me off on the side of the road right now so I can run scared back to Barnstable, or it’s handled enough that you can tell me. I don’t get naked and tell just anyone that I love them, Bowan, you have to trust me. Trust is really important, you know
.
” I realized with building irritation, that I hated not being trusted.

“November, you can trust me, too. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.” His tone told me I’d pushed far enough.

“Sorry,” I said as I turned my shoulders back to the windshield and let out a long breath. I reached for the “play” button again, but he stopped me.

“No, it’s ok. Look, you’re right; I owe you
something
after all we’ve gone through thi
s last week.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you, it’s your business . . .” I conceded, though I really wanted to know.

“It’s about Rachel.”

“Your sister?” My pulse quickened as my voice rose.

“Yea.”

“Does she know?”

“No.” His face paled.

“What the hell?”

“They knew if they went to her for the money she’d probably tell me and I’d kick their asses. They were smart; they went directly to me, threatening to expose some nude and other graphic pictures of her from her drug using days. If she even remembers taking them, she certainly doesn’t know they’re still around. She’s my Achilles’s - I’d do absolutely anything to protect her, Ember. Those pictures, and that part of her life, need to burn with the assholes that have held onto them.” He clenched his fist against the steering wheel before continuing, “No one else at DROP knows about it, not even David Bryson - just our legal team.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Wow. You said you knew who was blackmailing you, though, so why wouldn’t you just go to the police?”

“We have to build the case, and it’s a small town. When you’re as wealthy as my family is. . . I couldn’t risk anything getting out before we were r
eady. I involved the legal team
because they are from all over and didn’t grow up with me, my friends, or my parents. When dealing with blackmail,
you’ve got to push it to the breaking point to mount as many charges as possible
,”
h
e replied unapologetically.

When we pulled in to Concord, I was momentarily disoriented by the lack of ocean. It reminded me that I needed to get off the Cape a little more. Bo drove me through town, giving me a drive-through tour of his birthplace. He pointed out his favorite restaurants, his high school, and we passed DROP’s main office.

“Nice spot,” I commented, “You can really do a lot with that location. What are some of your long-term hopes for the community centers?” We were in Concord for business, after all.

“Ideally I’d like to equip any and all centers we operate with a studio and, of course, instruments to use in those studios.” A hopeful smile spread across his lips.

“That’s an amazing idea! Music therapy is
huge
. I’ve never even been to a recording studio before, but imagine being a kid from desperate circumstances and being able to hear your instrument and your voice played back in your ear? Great idea, Bo! Technically, it would be Monica’s department to help you on the ground level with that project - but, quite frankly, I call
dibs
.” I nearly leapt out of my seat.

“You’d be awesome at it. But, wait a minute -
you’ve
never been inside a recording studio before?” His jaw unlocked for the first time since I brought up the blackmail.

“No. Why is that weird? Have you? Well, duh, obviously you have.” I blushed at my idiocy.

“Ha. Yes, you’re right and, I liked the experience so much that I built one inside my house.”  He straightened his posture, illustrating his pride.

“You have a recording studio in your
house?
Figures. Now your new name will have to be Lord Hotness of the Guitar and All Things Awesome.” I laughed then stared out the window.

Several minutes after driving through the center of Concord, we turned onto what appeared to be a private road. We drove along
its smooth surface
for several more minutes, and I only saw two houses before we came upon an overbearing wrought iron gate at the end of the road. Without missing a beat, Bo threw his Audi in
to
park, slid out of the car, and walked over to the gate. He pressed a few numbers on a keypad, and the gate sl
owly opened as he got back in.

“A gate? Really?” I wasn’t dancing with the hippies anymore.

“What?” He shrugged passively, “It’s not
my
gate - well I guess it is now but - it was my parents’ house, Ember. I can’t let it go.” He drove through the gate and proceeded slowly down the driveway.

“I’ve never known a real-live person who had a gated driveway, you’ll have to excuse me,” I laughed, “I spent most of my time on farms, communes, a yurt . . .” The look on his face caused me to break in to laughter, “What?!”

“A yurt?” He howled.

“You heard it here first, Baby.” I winked, “That was the last straw before I told my parents to cut the shit and let me be normal for high school. We lived in an apartment and everyth
ing - it was fucking glorious.”

“That’s awesome your parents would do that for you, pause their lifestyle for f
our years so you could settle.”

“Yeah, they’re swell - shit! They were going to be coming back through Barnstable this weekend and I totally forgot to tell them I’d be here; I’ve got to text my mom.” I frantically dug for my cellphone.

Me:
Hey- I’m in Concord for the weekend with Bo-sorry for the short notice.

Mom:
:)

Me:
That’s not a response

Mom:
OK . . . yay! How’s that ;)

Me:
Be normal for once, would you?

Mom:
We’ll call when we’re driving back up the coast to see where you’re at. If you’re still in NH maybe we’ll swing by.

Me:
You’re impossible. Love you.

Mom:
Have fun, Baby Girl.

A wistful grin crept across my face as I put my phone back in my bag. Suddenly, my cheeks felt the heat of Bo’s stare. I chanced a glance to my left and saw an unreadable expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“You really love them, huh?”

Oh, the look was melancholy.

“I do. Being their daughter has been an eye-rolling experience, for sure, but they’re great.” I didn’t want to elaborate too much in fear of opening barely healed wounds for him, or myself.

“Hey, do you have siblings? I never asked.” Bo got out of the car.

“Nope, just me, and whatever children were living in whichever agricultural community we lived in.” I smiled as I got out.

“Why don’t you ever let me open the door for you?” He asked, creasing his eyebrows.

“Ha, are you serious? Um, well, for starters, my arms aren’t broken.” I couldn’t
have kept
the sarcasm out of my voice if I tried.

“What am I going to do with you?” Bo huffed as he put his arms around my waist.

“Anything you want.” I smiled, “But, could we get our stuff in your house first?”

We carried our bags to the grand front door; the house was absolutely gorgeous. To anyone outside of New England, the house might look ominous; it was clearly at least one hundred years old. It was white with black shutters - standard New England fare. A spacious widow’s watch with a stained glass window on one side, and a regular window on the other, topped the house. I made a mental note to check the view from up there later. Bo produced a key from his pocket an
d opened the door.

The inside of the house was anything but antique; there had clearly been a massive remodel at some point. A large granite-floored foyer greeted us, with a grand, double-banister staircase just to the right. The foyer’s ceiling was two-stories, and a window at
the top poured delicious light.

“Impressive.” My eyes took in the scale of the foyer and what appeared to be a dining area to the left.

Bo flashed a quick smile, “Yea, not bad for a lonely bachelor.” He winked and led me up the
stairs.

“How many bedrooms do you have?” I asked, noting several doorways down the straight hallway.

“Six. And three bathrooms upstairs,” he said over his shoulder.

“Does Rachel stay here when she’s on break from school?” I asked.

“Actually, she lives here
most of the time
, Durham’s only about an hour away. She’s staying on campus this weekend with some friends, though. She might be by sometime
tonight to pick up some stuff.”

“Will I get to meet her?” It was clear how much Bo loved his sister; I was jealous I didn’t have a sibling with whom to share such a bond.

“Of course. And, if we miss her tonight, she’ll be at the DROP meeting Monday. That’s why she’s staying on campus this weekend - trying to get ahead since she’ll miss classes for our meeting.” Bo stopped in front of a door half-way down the hall on the left, and cracked it open.

“This is my room. Well,
our
room for the weekend.” He beamed.

I entered the room and felt instantly at home, it screamed Bo. A large well-made bed with dark navy bedding was positioned in the center of the wall opposite the door. The walls were sparsely adorned with family photos and a couple of autographed a
nd framed posters of musicians.

My eyes found a family portrait on the wall adjacent to the bed and I approached it slowly. All four Cavanaugh’s were smiling the trademark mega-watt smile. His parents were young, and Bo was the spitting image of his father. Rachel was pale with dark hair, just like Bo, but her eyes were darker. Vivian, their mother, was breathtakingly beautiful. While Bo looked slightly younger, maybe more carefree, this looked to be only a few years old.