Spencer Cohen Series, Book Two (The Spencer Cohen Series 2) (10 page)

Andrew took a deep breath and changed subjects. “So, what does this guy look like?”

“Like a slimy creep. I’ll take a guess that he’ll have just left work, so he’ll be here in about twenty minutes I’d say, wearing an expensive suit and a cheap smile.” I looked down at the entrance to the bookstore but couldn’t see anyone that even looked remotely like him. I put my hand on Andrew’s arm. “I don’t want him to see me with you.”

Andrew’s gaze shot to mine, instant offence and rejection in his eyes. “Why not?”

I smiled softly at him. “No other reason than I just don’t want you implicated in this in anyway. If he is the arsehole I assume he is, I don’t want him to even look at you. I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think I would not want the world to know we’re together?” I asked. “If you want me to broadcast an ad on CBS, I will.”

He smiled now, the corner of his mouth lifted shyly. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “An ad in the
LA Times
would be fine.”

I snorted. “Is that all?”

He nodded. “Or a whole page ad in
Sexy Geek
. I hear their running a special edition titled
How to Keep your Sexy Geek Satisfied
.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Really? I should definitely buy that.”

“You should subscribe,” he said, like it was a matter of fact. “Now, given we’re incognito, I’m going back downstairs to have a coffee, see if I can pick up some random hottie.”

My mouth fell open, and a pang of hurt bloomed in my heart. How did we go from joking to him wanting someone else? “What?”

He quickly took my hand and squeezed it. “I was only joking!”

“Oh.”

I think my reaction secretly pleased him. “But, later, if whathisname doesn’t turn up, I’ll be hanging around pretending not to know you, and if you’re, you know, not too busy, you can try your best pick-up lines on me.” His whole face softened. “You’re my random hottie, Spencer.”

My heart tripped all over itself. “Oh. Well, that’s all right then. Because if there was a magazine called
The Only Guy Spencer Wants
, you’d be on the cover.”

He smiled so perfectly. So happy and smug and shy, all rolled into one.

I looked around for the closest bathroom to drag him into, because seriously, I wanted him. I didn’t just want him in my bed, I wanted him in my life. For the next however long. Forever, probably. And
that
realisation—the forever kind of realisation—rattled me. I had known this guy for just a few weeks, but he was perfect for me. Not a perfect person, because no one was, but perfect
for me
. The yin to my yang, the piece to my puzzle, the jazz and classical to my rock and blues. We were compatible on an intellectual level, and physically… well, I could only imagine what it was going to be like when we finally started having actual fuck sessions. I was pretty sure we’d never stop. And the word forever didn’t just drift through my mind like an errant thought. It stomped.

Me, the guy who purposely kept people at arm’s length, was thinking of relationships of the permanent variety. Maybe it was the absurd butterflies in my stomach that made my ludicrous endorphins mess with the synapses in my stupid brain.

“You okay?” Andrew asked, concern written all over his face.

“I am super great,” I answered, ignoring the butterflies trying to escape through my chest.

“Super great? Is that a thing?”

“Yes.” According to my stupid brain, it’s very much a thing. “Yes it is.”

He laughed. “Okay, then. I’m going to grab a coffee,” he said, leaving me on the second floor with my brain still stuck on that one word. Forever. And those bloody butterflies that turned my stomach into a roiling mess made my feet stick to the floor and plastered a ridiculous grin on my face, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to holler from the rooftops as to how happy I was. Or vomit.

It wasn’t until some guy looked at me like I was some sort of creeper that I made myself move. I stood at the shelves of books with a view of the front door, but also of the tables and chairs of the coffee shop inside the store. Andrew ordered and took a seat, kind of looking at the entrance, but I could still see his face. He was wearing a smile similar to mine, I’d imagine. It was an unstoppable smile, a can’t-help-it smile, a he-must-feel-the-same-way smile.

I was just about to pull the pin on this foolish covert operation and drag Andrew out of here. I fully intended to forgo the jazz bar and just take him home and take him to bed. But figured I should at least pretend to look over some books to buy for Andrew. I was in the crime section as it turned out, and that wasn’t really my genre of choice. With one eye on the doors and one eye on the shelves, and an occasional glance at a still-smiling Andrew, I took out my phone and shot him a text.
You’re really hot, you know that?

I watched as he pulled out his phone. His grin was instantaneous. He thumbed the screen for a second, and my phone buzzed straight after.
Is that your best pick up line? Because it needs work.

I laughed quietly at my screen and quickly typed back my response.
Oh, I can do much better than that…

But then I noticed a guy walk into the store who looked familiar, and when I looked again, I could see it was Lance.

He scoured the floor first, kind of slinking off to the side. Then he was underneath the second floor where I was standing, and I lost visual contact. I sent a quick text to Andrew—
He’s here.—
and pocketed my phone.

I worried for a moment that Andrew might look up and around the store very obviously, but he was very stealthy. For a sexy geek, that is. He still smiled at his phone but his eyes looked around the room, before he put his phone down, sipped his coffee, and picked up a magazine.

I took the escalator back to the ground floor and went in the direction I’d seen Lance the Tosser go. I found him standing at the back, almost hiding behind a row of shelves, trying to be inconspicuous as he scanned the room. I walked directly up to him, and he did a double take when he saw me.

“Great minds think alike, huh?” I said, offering him my hand to shake.

He shook it but was clearly uncomfortable. “Spencer? What are you doing here?”

“What you’re paying me to do,” I replied quietly. No one else needed to hear this conversation. “Follow leads, and hopefully find Yanni. I could possibly ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you mentioned he worked here,” he said. He even had the gall to look all sheepish about it. Then he sighed and frowned, his forehead creased with worry. “I just want to see him.”

Man, he was good. I wondered, very briefly, if I had him pegged wrong. Could he have been honestly concerned for Yanni and I read him all wrong? Was I way off the mark on the whole situation? I had to admit, now I wasn’t sure. But in keeping with the lies I’d told him about Yanni working here, I said, “He’s not here. I’ve asked already.”

“But he does work here?”

“I spoke to a girl working upstairs. She said she hadn’t worked here long, but there was no Yanni here today, and the staff here now are the only ones working until closing time. That was all she said. He could be rostered on tomorrow or next week or not at all. I don’t know.”

Lance sighed, and slowly started to nod. “Okay.”

I looked out the glass wall at the front, using the opportunity to also see if Andrew was sitting at the café. He was, thankfully. “It’s dark out. You just finished work?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I should probably get going home.”

“Oh, sure thing,” I said.

Lance took a step away, then stopped. “Is this the lead you were talking about? You said there was one more lead in looking for him.”

“Oh, yeah. It is. Well, it was,” I amended quickly. “I can make some more calls tomorrow if you like.”

He looked to the floor, then back to me. “I dunno… I guess he’s just gone.”

Shit.
Either this guy was genuine, or he deserved an Oscar. “Look, I’ll see what I can find tomorrow, and I’ll be in touch. Don’t make any decisions right now.”

He nodded, forced a smile, and left. I watched him go, and when he’d disappeared into the night, I looked at Andrew.

He was still sitting there, but he was now looking at me, his expression curious and a little concerned.

I gave him a smile and remembered the little game he wanted to play. I held up my finger in a ‘one-second’ gesture and disappeared around the stacks of books. I needed to find the perfect thing… It took a little more than one second, but after I found it. Actually, I found two.

Holding one of the books behind my back so he couldn’t see it, I walked over. I stood at the chair in front of him. “Excuse me, would you mind if I sat down?”

He smiled but played along. “Please do.”

I sat on the seat, letting the book behind my back stay out of view. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever wonder why the most common gestures of affection are to give flowers or chocolates?”

Andrew snorted quietly. “It’s not something I’ve given a great deal of thought to, no.”

“I have.”

“Is that right?” he said, trying to be serious. He slid the magazine back onto the table. “And what conclusion did you come to?”

I sighed. “Well, it’s a good gesture. A nice thing to do, really. If the person you wish to impress likes flowers and chocolates. But it’s become very impersonal. Like the person has put no thought into what would make the intended recipient happy. I think it’s an antiquated gesture, when life was simpler.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “A simpler life is not overrated.”

“True,” I conceded. “But if it were me, I’d like to think I knew what to get the person. A gift that would mean something. Something more personal than flowers.”

Andrew was clearly delighted. He eyed the upturned book in my lap, trying to read the title. “Is that so? Pray tell, if you were to give someone a gift—someone such as myself—what do you think you would choose?”

“Ah, see there’s the crux of my dilemma. If I could choose, I would pick you a vinyl album.”

“Or a whole record player…”

“Yes well, that too. But I would choose you a Jeff Buckley album, or a Bill Withers record.”

Andrew laughed. “But this is not a vintage LP store.”

“How very astute! Right you are! Which is why I chose this book for you.” I handed him the first book.

He read the title out loud. “
A Geek’s Guide to Cooking
.” He looked from the book to my face. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, absolutely thrown by my choice. “Really? Is this meant to flatter, insult, or amuse?”

I was trying not to laugh. “All three, of course.”

“Well, two out of three isn’t bad.” He flipped through the pages. “And this is your very serious attempt at picking me up?”

I shook my head slowly and produced the other book from behind my back. I held it so he could only see the back, and my heart was beating double time. I hoped to hell I got this right. “This book is.”

Very nervously, I handed it over.

He read the title, and his gaze shot to mine. His smile was slow spreading, his eyes warm and shining. He whispered, “Spencer… it’s perfect.”

I let out a relieved laugh. “Really?”

He nodded, and absentmindedly reread the title. “
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
This is an absolute classic, Spencer. Blade Runner was based off this book.”

“I know, that’s why I chose it for you.”

He stared at me, then back at the book in his hands, as though his emotions got the better of him. “You know me…” He shook his head, seemingly unable to finish.

I tapped his foot with mine and waited for him to look up. “And you know me.”

He stared at me. Just stared. And eventually he swallowed hard and let out a long steadying breath. “Can we leave?”

I nodded and stood up. I held my hand out to him, which he took, and let me pull him to his feet. “I have to pay for the books first,” I told him. Then it got the better of me. “So, did I pass?”

“Pass what?”

“The pickup line test.”

Andrew chuckled. “You really did.”

I grinned at him and spoke so only he could hear. “Am I gonna get lucky tonight?”

He blushed. “Let me think… you’re buying me one of the coolest books ever written and taking me to a jazz bar. I think it’s safe to assume there will be luck involved when we get home.”

“How lucky?” I whispered. “Because I know we said we’d wait until this weekend, but a guy can live in hope, right?”

Andrew smiled salaciously. “That totally depends on whether you feed me as well.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” I joked. “You expect books, jazz music,
and
dinner.”

He sniffed. “I do have standards.”

I laughed and took his hand, leading him to the service counter. Andrew looked at the cookbook. “You’re seriously buying me the cooking for geeks book?”