Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)
Author:Randall, Andrea

“You’re a child.” She leaves my room, but spares me by not slamming the door this time.


As I dress, I hear Rae open the main house door and speak in muffled tones with someone, and finally a car pulls away from the house. I do my best to get myself together. Khakis and a button down black short-sleeved shirt—no tie—is a vast improvement over my sweats and t-shirt wardrobe of the last week. I think absentmindedly that Rae’s right, and I will need to get a ton of work done today in order to avoid having to go to the meeting Friday. Ember will be there. She’s coming back here and isn’t hiding from me—unless she’s seen the email I sent to her boss, giving her reassurance of my absence. I shake my head, resolving to think more about it later.


When I get downstairs I head directly for the kitchen to take some Advil; it’s the only way I’ll make it through the morning. Rachel is standing by the sink, surveying my impending liver damage through X-rays of empty whiskey bottles that line the counter. Her eyes are empty, and her face is blank. This isn’t good.


“Rae, just get out of here. I’ll clean this up and meet you at the office. Did I hear you talking to someone down here?” I swallow the Advil and pray for the bricks in my head to crumble to dust.


Rae moves to the foyer and starts putting on her coat. “Yeah. Ainsley.”


“Ainsley was here?” I ask, following her.


“She’s been sniffing around since the night everything went down.” Rachel stares crossly at me, her hand on her hip.


Ainsley sent several text messages when the story about the blackmail broke all over the news. When I ignored them, she came to the house. I told her none of it concerned her. She must have found out one way or another that November was involved, which explains her eagerness to reconnect, yet again. I learned quickly after my parents died that Ainsley Worthington is a force to be reckoned with as far as grief is concerned. She thinks her tight little ass will cure all that ails. Well, it won’t for me. Not this time.


“I’ll see you at the office in a few.” I head upstairs to grab my laptop.


“Fine, just don’t do anything stupid between here and there. Can you manage that?” She doesn’t wait for my answer as her anger echoes in the squeal of tires down the driveway.


November will be here Friday. Shit. I have to talk to her. We’re in love. We promised forever…








“Great, Turner’s here,” I mumble to myself as I throw the Audi in park. He wasn’t around at all last week, giving me a much-needed break from November’s ex-boyfriend.


Maybe he was with her. I slam my door at the thought and head into the office, dodging sympathetic glances from the receptionist.


“Spencer.” David nods his salutation as he walks into my office and shuts the door.


He’s always called me Spencer, even when all my friends started calling me “Bo” in high school. He was my father’s best friend, so I don’t think he’ll stop with the “Spencer” any time soon. He studies me with sad eyes. Eyes that look like my father’s—grey pools that intensify the disappointment I already feel.


“Morning, David. Are we set for the legal briefing today in preparation for Hope’s arrival on Friday?” I think I sound convincing enough, until I watch David’s nostrils flare with a frustrated sigh.


“Son, what happened?” He sits. He’s not leaving until he has an answer.


David’s aware of the blackmail, but the details regarding Ember have been graciously absent from his questioning, until now. So I tell him. Everything. His eyebrows raise at all the right parts; his head shakes at the others. I’ve never been this open with David before about my personal life, apart from things about my parents. As a rule, I’m not open at all—music’s always been my way of dealing. But, since taking over this organization, I’ve been doing a lot more talking. David’s the closest thing to a father I have left, and right now I need guidance.


“What do you mean you stopped calling her?” This is the detail he’s choosing to focus on. I remain still and scan the room for a respectable answer. His face tells me there isn’t one.


I clear my throat. “Uh ...”


“Son, I saw you and Travis through some boneheaded things in high school, but this takes the cake.” Travis is David’s son, my best friend. He moved to Colorado after high school before enlisting in the Marines. He was in Iraq for a while, came home, and now he’s in Afghanistan.He’d probably kick my ass for screwing things up with Ember.


“She’s really pissed, David.”


“Seems she has cause to be. All the more reason not to leave her stewing for a week—a state away, no less! Anyway, we’ve got to get to the meeting, but you better call her. Before Friday. Even if she doesn’t answer and you have to leave her a voicemail. She’s a nice young lady and deserves at least that.” He doesn’t await my confirmation of his orders before sauntering out of my office and heading down the hall.