The Spencer Cohen Series, Book Three(4)

By: N.R. Walker



He put his hand up. “Spencer, I was just kidding.”

“Sorry.” I sighed. He said he was kidding, but I had to wonder… “Andrew, please tell me you’re okay with it?”

“I am.” He reached over and took my hand. “I am. I know it’s just a job. I was just joking. It was supposed to be funny because I know going to some formal dinner with a stuffy, old guy is the last thing you’d actually want to do.”

“Stuffy, old guy?”

“Well, that’s what you called him.”

“True.”

“And I should be able to joke about it,” he said. “Because tonight, while you’re sitting in a corporate dinner with a man you don’t like, listening to speeches from people you don’t know from a company you don’t work for, I’ll be curled up on your papasan chair reading a book and listening to the new album you’re about to buy me.”

I found myself smiling at him. “Still not funny.”

He chuckled. “Yes it is. I might even go down and hang out with Emilio until he closes up shop.”

My mouth fell open. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No you don’t. And don’t leave your mouth open like that or I might be tempted to put something in it.”

Now I laughed. “We could go into the bathroom?”

He rolled his eyes and picked up a french fry from my plate. He wielded it like a weapon. “I’d be tempted to put one of these in your mouth, Spencer. One of these.”

“I like my idea much better.”

He shoved the french fry into his mouth and climbed out of the booth. “Come on then.”

I looked up at him all excited. “Really?”

“No, not in some diner bathroom,” he whispered, collecting Emilio’s burger-to-go off the table. “Music store, then your place. Then you can do what you like with me.”

“Promise?”

“Depends on the album you buy me.”

“Is that blackmail?”

“Nope. Think of it more as a pay and reward scheme.”

I rolled my eyes and walked to the door, which I dutifully held open for him. “Just so you know, I’m not opposed to blackmail. If it means I have you in bed for the rest of the day I’m all for it.”

He laughed and held out his hand. “May I hold your hand?”

“You may,” I said, but then pulled my hand away at the last second. “Depends on whether I have full discretion on the album I choose for you.”

He narrowed his eyes at me as he considered my counter. “Hmm, you drive a hard bargain. But fine.”

I held out my hand, and he grabbed it quickly, probably before I could add any more terms and conditions. I was grinning as we walked up the street hand-in-hand.

“And just so you know, if the music is crap, I might have to call veto on the condition of being in your bed all day.”

I barked out a laugh. “Just as well I have impeccable taste. And,” I added, “I’m not opposed to having you on the sofa instead.”

He chuckled. “I still haven’t figured out how we could use that papasan chair.”

I stopped at the music store, but before I opened the door, I leaned in and whispered, “If I choose the best album for you today, I shall fuck you in that chair when we get home.”

He blushed and his pupils blew out, his voice was breathy. “And how will you know if it’s the best album?”

“Believe me, I’ll know.” I opened the door and waited for him to walk inside. Andrew went straight to the jazz section, but I headed straight for the counter. I waited for the clerk to finish doing whatever it was he was doing. “Hi. I ordered in a record. Wilhelm Kempff’s Moonlight Sonata.”

The cashier clicked his fingers. “Yes! Came in yesterday. Not every day we get requests for classical. I’ll just grab it from out of the storeroom.”

Andrew walked quietly up behind me. “Spencer? What did you do?”

I smiled at him. “I might have pre-ordered you something.”

“You cheated?”

“I didn’t cheat. I just changed the way the game is played.”

He shook his head. “Do I want to know what it is?”

The cashier came back to the counter, record in hand. “Here it is. Not easy to get. The DGG vinyls aren’t too common these days, even second-hand.” He handed it to me, and taking the wrapped up burger from Andrew, I gave the record straight to him.

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