Mr Spencer(10)

The way he says Charlotte is just so…

My phone rings and the name Wyatt lights up the screen. Damn it. “Sorry, just a minute.” I hold up a finger. “Hello.”

“Who are you talking to?” Wyatt asks.

I glance up at the gorgeous man in front of me. “A friend,” I answer, annoyed that even a simple conversation warrants Wyatt to call me.

I’m sick of this nonsense.

Spencer frowns as he watches me.

“Who is he? I need a name.”

“Not a word about this, please.”

“A name and my lips are sealed.”

Damn it, why is my life so damn complicated? He’s going to run a search on him to check his criminal record, I know it.

“His name is Spencer Jones and I’m going out to dinner with him. I won’t be needing you again tonight. You may go home now,” I instruct with annoyance. If I wasn’t going out with Spencer before, I sure am now just to piss you off.

Satisfaction flashes across Spencer’s face.

“You know I can’t do that,” Wyatt replies. “I’ll be outside in the car if you need me.” He hangs up.

I clench my jaw in frustration. I hate being followed all the time. I have no privacy whatsoever.

“Everything all right?” Spencer asks.

“Yes.” I fake a smile as I glance over to the car. “That was my security, I’m sorry. It’s very distracting, even for me.”

“So, you really do have security?” Spencer glances across the road to Wyatt. “Ha, fancy that. I thought they were joking.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I was told at the wedding that I wouldn’t be able to get near you because you were guarded. I actually thought they meant your brother.”

I drop my head in embarrassment. God, everyone knows about this stuff now? I had no idea. “I’m sorry, this isn’t normal, I know.”

Spencer puts his hands in his pockets, and the two of us begin to walk. “Why do you need security?”

We walk towards the restaurant strip. “My father is…” I pause because I hate saying this. “Wealthy, and he’s constantly concerned for my safety.”

“What happens if I kiss you at dinner?”

I laugh and raise my brows. “That’s very presumptuous, Mr Spencer.”

“Spence,” he corrects me. “My friends call me Spence.”

“Spence.” I smile.

“What do I call you?”

“Charlotte,” I reply without hesitation.

“Like that, is it?” He links his arm through mine. “What do your friends call you?”

“Do you want to be my friend?”

“Maybe.”

I smile at his ease with me. He’s very familiar and seems to have no insecurities at all.

“I really did think the whole security thing was a joke,” he says casually.

“I wish it was.” I glance back to Wyatt sitting in the car watching the two of us. “Does it bother you to have him watch us?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“What actually does happen if I kiss you? What will he do?”

I smile. “Probably knock you out unconscious,” I tease. Truthfully, I have no idea because Wyatt hasn’t seen me kiss anyone before.

Spencer stops and turns me to face him. “What about if I do it in private?”

Our eyes lock.

What is it about this man? He just gets straight to the point. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. He’s so brash.

“My private time is completely private.” I smile softly up at him.

The air between us crackles.

“You’re all I’ve thought about this week,” he says.

My nerves bubble in my stomach and, unsure what to say, I turn away, relinking my arm with his. We turn the corner to the main street of town.

“Where do we go?” he asks, looking around.

I gesture up the street. “There is a restaurant up the road a little.”

He takes my hand in his and picks it up to kiss the back of it.

My eyes flicker to Wyatt in the car that is following us slowly from a distance. I know he can still see us. It feels awkward being with a man while Wyatt watches.

“Don’t worry about him, worry about me,” Spencer says. His eyes hold mine with a tender glow, and he smiles softly down at me, clearly seeing that I’m uncomfortable with Wyatt watching on.

God, he’s beautiful.

“So, this is where you live? Nottingham.”

I nod. “Uh-huh.”

“Beautiful.”

I smile as my heart begins to beat faster. Like you, I think to myself.

We arrive at the restaurant, walk in and wait at the desk.

“Table for two?” he asks a passing waiter.

“Of course, sir. Just this way.” The waiter smiles.

Spencer pulls out my chair and I take a seat.

Robert, a man that I know who works here, is on his shift. He sees me and immediately smiles. “Hi, Lottie.”

“Hi, Rob,” I say as I flick open the menu.

Spencer opens his menu, too. “Who’s he?” he asks, pretending to be uninterested.