Free Ten Days of Perfect by Andrea Randall Page A

coffee?”
    “I saw the creamer in your fridge and took a guess.” He smirked as he slid next to me and mimicked my position.
    I sipped my perfectly made coffee, closed my eyes, and smiled again at the memory of last night. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling too. He turned slightly and, for the first time, I caught a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted back in the daylight - and that tattoo I’d meant to investigate. Between his shoulders, starting at the base of his neck and running to th e bottom of his shoulder blades was a huge Celtic cross. It was intricately decorated, all in black, and read like a topographical ma p over each one of his muscles.
    “Wow, that’s gorgeous.” I reached out and barely touche d it, waiting for his approval.
    “Thanks, I got it after my parents died. The ir initials are in the center.”
    He shifted so his back was square to me, and stayed quiet as I traced my fingers up the cross and landed on the initials S.C. and V.C. I rested my hand there for a beat, trying to picture what it would be like if my parents were gone - taken from me at the same time. These shoulders have carried so much . . .
    “Do you ha ve any?” He turned back around.
    “What, you didn’t get a good enough l ook last night?” I joked.
    “Ha. Well, not at your back.” He win ked as he leaned in for a kiss.
    “Well, I don’t - yet. I’ll get one, but I’m waiting till something calls out to me.” I smiled thinking of all the times my parents suggested I get a tattoo.
    “I had a great time last night,” I said, breaking the silence that draped comfortably between us.
    “I did too. It was more than great, Ember . . . ”
    Jesus, my body was already responding to his voice. And, Ember sounded just as great coming from his mouth as November did. He could probably call me “bar stool”, I realized, and I wouldn’t care. He just needed to be the one saying it.
    “Listen, you should know I don’t usually do this sort of thing. I just - it just felt so right with you.” I found myself looking at him out of the corner of m y eye, hiding behind my coffee.
    “Hey, I don’t think anything bad, Ember. I don’t usually do this e ither.” He set his coffee down.
    “Look,” he continued, “I feel a little nuts here. I mean, I’m here for business, I decided to play at Finnegan’s to pass some time and, damn it, in you walk. When we sang together I felt like I knew all I needed to know about you, but I wanted more. Then you were at the meeting . . .” Tension made quick work of filling my room.
    “Don’t do that.” I put my coffee down and faced him, my legs crossed. “I’m still here. You’re still here. We’ve got this week . I felt the same things when we met, Bo. I had to force myself to pull away from you after our first kiss. I thought it was a dream; this couldn’t be happening at some bar that I’ve been to every weekend for the last fou r years. But it did - you did.”
    I pressed my hand into his cheek. He leaned into it, kissing my wrist as I spoke. “Can we just enjoy this week and weekend and just see where it takes us? That’s what you said yesterday, right? If our agencies end up working together, we’ll sort out whatever needs to be at that time.” I tried to sound positive, but the thought of only seven days left weighed heavily on my words. There would be no way we could carry on like this if we were co workers.
    “God, could you be any more perfect?” He whispered as he reached for my face.
    “What do you mean?”              
    “I mean, perfect . You’re smart, driven, you sing, and last night . . . ” a grin overcame him, “last night was amazing.” He looked up at me, his eyes still dancing with excitement.
    “I’ve never felt anything like that before, Bo.”
    Suddenly my room felt like it’d been transported south of the Equator. My palms began to sweat and I felt like my shirt was made of wool. I wanted him e ven more than I did last