Spencer Cohen, Book Two (Spencer Cohen, #2)

“Sure.”


I took his phone and pressed the camera icon, and putting my arm around him and nuzzling my nose into his cheek, we posed for a selfie. After we’d taken a few, he selected the best—and by that, I mean the one he thought he looked best in—and he uploaded it onto his timeline. “Um, should I―” He stopped. “Oh, don’t worry.”

I hated when people said that. Of course it made me worry. “Should you what?”

“Oh, I was just wondering…” He shook his head. “You know how people change their relationship status… It’s silly, don’t worry.”

“It’s not silly.”

“I’m just excited about this,” he said, looking at his phone instead of me, though I could see a blush creep down his neck. “But I’m supposed to take it slow, and maybe telling the world about us is being too forward. Sarah was right. I do rush into things. I’ve jumped without looking into every relationship I’ve ever had. Posting photos is one thing; announcing it is a bit different.”

“Andrew,” I said quietly. I waited for him to look at me before continuing. “If you want to post it, then post it. Tell the world you scored the hottest boyfriend ever. Although they’ll know that from the photo.”

He laughed and looked back down at his phone. “I won’t. Not yet. I don’t want to jinx anything. Though I’ll have to tell people at work tomorrow. Well, Michelle will know straight away. She’s kind of like what Lola is to you. She’ll see it on my face before I can say a word anyway, and she will have commented on this photo within the hour. She’s going to want to know every detail.”

I groaned, and his eyes flashed to mine. “You just reminded me. Lola is no doubt still at the shop, waiting for me to get back. It’ll be midnight before she stops interrogating me.”

“What will you tell her?” he asked. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that I didn’t like to see.

“That we’re taking it slow, but the term officially dating was used.”

Andrew smiled at that. “Sounds good to me.”

“So, what’s our plans for this week?” I asked. “I mean, do we make plans? Is that what boyfriends do?” It sounded weird for me to even say that. “Is that what officially dating even means? I have no idea.”

“I’m pretty sure boyfriends make plans,” he said with a slow nod, fighting a smile. “And yes, I think that’s what officially dating means.”

“Dinner Tuesday?” I asked. “I’ll cook.”

“You cook?”

I feigned offence. “Can I cook? I’ll have you know, I make the best spag bol ever. It’s not glamorous but it’s good.”

“Spag bol?”

“Spaghetti Bolognese.”

“Is that an Australian thing?”

“Yep. We shorten everything. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

He smiled at that. “I’m looking forward to that.”

I kissed him softly and left my lips pressed to his for a few beats of my heart. “Thank you for today. And thank you for coming after me last night. Thank you for telling whatshisname to get lost, and thank you for breakfast. Thank you for smelling unbelievably good all the time, and thank you for playing your piano for me.”

Andrew laughed but put his hand to my face, closed his eyes, and kissed me. He left his forehead pressed to mine and breathed in deep. “You’re very welcome.” He pulled away and said, “I better get you home or there’ll be no taking it slow, and I’m not sure I can come four times in one day.”

I laughed and smiled all the way home.

Until I walked through the shop door and Lola dragged me, literally, from the front door to the back cubicle, shooting questions at me like a machine gun. Oh who am I kidding? I was still smiling then too.





CHAPTER FIVE


“He wants to take it slow?” Lola asked. “I don’t know if that makes him sweet or crazy.”

“He says that’s what he does,” I explained. “He gets ahead of himself and gets carried away, and it ends up a fizzled out mess. He doesn’t want to do that with me.”

“See? That’s what makes him sweet,” Lola said.

“And that includes holding off on sex for a while.”

“And that’s what makes him crazy.”

I laughed. “He’s not perfect.”

“Much.”

I found myself smirking. “Much.”

“Well, I am so happy you’re taking a chance on him,” Lola said. She squeezed my hand. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “He’s kind of amazing.”

Lola bounced and squeed. “Oh, look at you! You’re a smitten kitten.”

Smitten kitten? I swear a piece of my manliness just died. “Promise me you won’t ever say those words again.”

She just smiled and hummed dreamily. “And I take it he’s perfectly fine with you meeting a new client tomorrow?”

Oh. “Um, I don’t think he knows.”

Lola stared at me. “He’ll be okay with it, won’t he?”

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