Six Weeks of Loving You

by Karli Perrin

  Six Weeks of Loving You

  By Karli Perrin

  Copyright © 2019 Karli Perrin

  All rights reserved.

  Thank you for purchasing this eBook. Please keep this book in its complete original form with the exception of quotes used in reviews. No alteration of content is allowed. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet without the author's permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely fictional. The characters and storylines are created from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  This book is not recommended to anyone under the age of sixteen due to strong language and sexual themes throughout.

  Cover design by Sofie Hartley.

  Other books by Karli Perrin

  April Showers (April #1)

  April Fools (April #2)

  The Honey Trap

  Buzz

  Short stories –

  The Gift

  The Book Boyfriend

  The Book Addict

  Dedication

  To Joanne.

  Joanne Yu, for almost twenty years of friendship.

  And Joanne Rowling, for bringing two book nerds together.

  Chapter One

  I’ve never liked mornings. So when I walk into my favorite coffee shop on the corner of Pine Street, I breathe a little sigh of relief. The owner wasn’t joking when they decided to name it Sanctum. A coffee lovers paradise smelling like freshly ground heaven. I inhale deeply in the hopes that the caffeine will somehow get into my bloodstream quicker. I may not be a morning person but I’m definitely a coffee person. I already feel impossibly happier and I’m only a couple of steps into the shop.

  Roxanne; my childhood best friend of twenty-five years, waves at me from behind the counter. I may be a little biased but she’s the best barista I know. The best artist I know. Apparently, latte art has been listed as one of the hardest things a person could ever learn, yet Roxy can create anything. And I mean anything. Animals, superheroes, penises - I’ve seen them all. She isn’t a flowers and hearts kind of girl - or a generic rosetta design for that matter. Apart from the odd surprise, I can usually count on her to leave me something Harry Potter related on top of my Cappuccino.

  I head in her direction but stop in my tracks when I notice the absolute god of a man working at the opposite end of the counter. I stare at him, completely unashamed and unable to form any coherent thoughts. He has the same uniform on as Roxy, except his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his lean, tanned forearms. He turns his back to me, and my eyes shoot down to where his apron is tied just above his ass. His perfect, peachy ass. Holy of all holies. There’s a reason he’s been hired to work at Sanctum instead of Starbucks. His body is a temple and I’m ready to get down on my knees and worship him.

  Roxy’s laugh breaks me out of my trance. “Keep on walking,” she tells me. “That’s it. One foot in front of the other.”

  “Holy shit,” I whisper when I finally reach her. “Who is he? What is he?” She shakes her head and chuckles. “What?” I ask.

  “Just you.”

  I shrug. “You’re my best friend. I take an interest in your life, including your work life.”

  “Oh, so that’s all it is?” she asks as she wipes down the counter. “Cora, you do this every time.”

  “Do what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

  “You always notice him."

  "Who?"

  "The hot guy in the room. Every single time. It never ceases to amaze me.”

  “Jesus Christ, Roxy. Have you seen him? How could I not notice him? His parents deserve a medal or at the very least a thank you note.”

  She grins. “You should go ahead and send them one. I’m sure they’d like that.”

  “You need to tell me who he is first.”

  “His name is Spencer.”

  “Oooh, he even has a pretty name.”

  “Spencer Hale,” she continues. “He’s thirty, and lives a couple of blocks from here. Oh, and he’s single.” She winks. “You have a few things in common.”

  “Interesting,” I say, just as he turns around and glances over at us. He does a double take when he sees me and then smiles, turning my legs to jelly. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” she asks, looking concerned.

  “That smile is going to get me into trouble.”

  “I think you might be right.” She smirks, scribbles my name onto the side of a paper cup, and then throws it over to him without warning. “Spencer, you’re up.” He catches it without looking, keeping his eyes trained on me.

  “Are you going to introduce us properly?” I whisper, when he finally gets to work on my drink. I become transfixed by the way he uses his hands, and how the muscles in his forearms tense up every few seconds. Tense. Relax. Tense. Relax. And don't even get me started on his bulging veins. Who knew arm porn was a thing? “Did you say something?” I ask Roxy when I feel her staring at me.

  “Yes. Number one - stop drooling. I've already mopped the floors today. Number two - you don’t need introductions. Just go and talk to him.”

  "But what about..."

  "I'm not asking you to marry the guy," she interrupts. "Go! He’s a good guy, you’ll see." She smiles sweetly before running off to the stockroom, leaving me alone with my new god, which is crazy seeing as though I was an atheist a few minutes ago.

  I make my way to the other end of the counter where he’s now leaning over my drink, eyebrows pulled together. Jesus, even his concentrating face is hot. I watch as his tongue slowly pokes out of the corner of his mouth. That's all it takes for my ninja imagination to spring into action. We’re not in a coffee shop anymore. No. We're in my bedroom. I’m on the bed while he’s buried between my thighs. In my defense, I haven’t had sex in a really long time, and it's not like I let any old stranger give me imaginary orgasms.

  “Why are your eyes closed?”

  They shoot open. “What? Oh...um…I’m tired.”

  Shit.

  He chuckles and hands me my coffee. “Here. This should wake you up.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Sunshine.”

  I frown. “How do you know my nickname?” His gaze drops to my sweater. I look down and groan, feeling like an idiot. ‘Sunshine mixed with a little hurricane’ is written in black, bold lettering. “I forgot I was wearing this."

  “You forgot you were wearing clothes?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

  “Yes…I mean, no…I forgot I was wearing a sweater. This sweater.”

  “It suits you.”

  “My sweater?”

  “Your nickname.”

  “Oh.” I laugh. “Smooth.”

  “Just how you like it.”

  I feel the blush creeping across my cheeks. “Excuse me?”

  “Tall, dark and smooth. Isn’t that how you like your coffee?”

  “My coffee. Right. Yes. Mmhmm.” I look down at my drink and turn it around a few times, trying to figure out what the hell he has drawn for me. “Is this…wait…is this a…spider?”

  He leans over and takes another look. “Oh yeah, it does kind of look like a spider. Yes. Yes, it's definitely a spider. I wasn’t trying to draw a sun at all.”

  I laugh. “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “Try telling Roxy that. I think she’s starting to lose her patience with me.”

  “We can’t all be the Picasso of latte art. Besides, I like your style. It’s very...abstract."

  He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m an abstract kind of guy. I like messy.” His twinkling eyes will be the death of me.

 
“I’m the queen of messy.” If only he knew how messy my life actually was.

  “It’s more fun that way,” he says.

  We stare at each other for what feels like minutes until I hear a bell chime. I look over my shoulder and see a small group of students making their way inside. “Well, I guess you should get back to work.”

  He looks down at his apron. “Work. Right.”

  I hold up my cup. “Thanks for the coffee…and the spider.”

  He smiles and I swear I feel it in places I didn’t even know existed.

  Yep, that smile is definitely going to get me into trouble.

  Chapter Two

  I take a sip of coffee as I wait for my laptop to power up. I glance over at the group of students who are giggling at something Spencer just said. He smiles politely which makes me feel smug as he’s obviously saving his genuine smiles for me.

  Roxy has returned from whatever fake task she was doing in the stockroom and is already preparing several drinks at once. She glides from one machine to the next, demonstrating why she’s in the running to become store manager.

  The light from my laptop screen catches my eye. I look down and see a folder in the middle of my desktop which is simply named, ‘OPEN ME’. The less distractions, the better. Inside the folder is a lone document, this time called, ‘FINISH THE DAMN BOOK’. I double click it and try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I wait for it to load.

  They disappear as soon as I see a page full of words.

  Page one.

  Chapter one.

  I’ve always loved writing, and I was finally brave enough to quit my job and self-publish my first book about a year before the accident. I was never a huge believer of fate before then, but now I believe that everything happens for a reason, including why and when I became a writer. Words are my salvation. I often wonder what would have happened had I not been brave enough to chase my dreams. Would I have been stuck in my dead-end office job for the rest of my life? Would I have forgotten just how much I truly hated it? I shudder at the thought.

  Now comes the hard part - getting back into the story when I don’t even remember writing any of it. I can see that it was last modified yesterday, but since today is day one of yet another six-week cycle, I don’t remember writing a single word. It’s always strange reading it for the very first time, as though it has been written by another author. Sometimes I cringe at what I’ve written, but most of the time, I’m immensely proud.

  I take a deep breath and begin to read it from the top. It only takes a few seconds before I’m completely immersed in an imaginary world.

  “What are you reading?” A deep male voice asks a little while later. He places a hand on my shoulder, probably to help me back into my chair after scaring the shit out of me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” I turn to look at Spencer, who has no idea that he set my whole body on fire with just one touch.

  “Don’t,” I blurt out when he pulls his hand away.

  We stare at each other until the corners of his mouth turn up. “Don’t?”

  Don’t stop touching me. “Don’t…scare me like that.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were concentrating so hard. You kept smiling and I couldn’t wait any longer. The suspense is killing me. I need to know what you’re reading.”

  “It’s the 101 of latte art.”

  He pulls out the chair next to me. “Well pass it over because I definitely need to read it.” I close my laptop before I even have time to think about what I’m doing. He leans back in the chair. “Oh. It’s a secret.”

  “Well, no, not really.”

  “It’s okay. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  He nods. “Yeah. It’s one of those books.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He leans in closer and whispers, “Erotica.”

  I laugh. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m pretty sure.”

  “Well that’s a shame.” He winks. “They’re my favorite.”

  Your eyes are my favorite. And your arms. And your ass… I clear my throat. “I don’t like people reading my work until it’s finished, that’s all.”

  His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re writing? I thought you were reading.”

  “Well, I was, but I’m reading my own work. It’s all part of the process.”

  “What's the book called?”

  “Finish the damn book.”

  He smirks. “And the real title?”

  “I haven’t decided. I tend to change my mind a lot.”

  “Maybe you could call it Spencer. Oh, wait. It’s not a horror story, is it? I don’t want to be bludgeoned to death.”

  I smile. “It’s not a horror story. I write romance.”

  “Ah, then you should definitely call it Spencer.”

  “So you consider yourself to be a romantic, huh?”

  “Well that would be a huge spoiler, wouldn’t it? Maybe you could find out for yourself. What are you doing later?”

  Well that escalated quickly. “Later?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  He chuckles. “Yes, tonight. You know, as in, later.”

  “I don’t know.” It’s the truth. I’m probably going to sit in a pair of ancient Christmas pajamas and binge-watch The Vampire Diaries, but he doesn’t need to know the whole truth.

  I turn around when I feel somebody watching us. I roll my eyes when I see Roxy grinning and giving me the thumbs up. I don’t know why she’s bothering. She knows that I don’t date. Instead, I choose to admire guys from afar without ever doing anything about it. I’m fine with going on imaginary dates and having imaginary babies if it means preventing future heartbreak. I don't date for a reason. A damn good reason.

  “Do you want to grab some dinner tonight? I know an awesome…”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” He looks a little taken aback. He’s probably never been rejected in his entire life. Who would reject that face? That body? Oh, that’s right – me.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across so blunt.”

  “Nah, it’s cool.”

  “I don’t date.”

  He smirks. “Who said it was a date?”

  “Oh. Well…I just, um, I assumed…”

  “I’m joking, Cora.”

  My stomach performs a little somersault at the way his lips caress my name. “How do you know my name?” His tilts his head to one side and destroys me with his whiskey-colored eyes before letting them fall to my coffee cup. I groan when I see Roxy’s handwriting. “Of course it's written on the cup. I swear I’m not usually this stupid. This morning was…when I woke up…I wasn’t…never mind.”

  Stop talking, Cora.

  “It’s cool. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugs. “You didn’t wake up hungry. That’s why you don’t want to come for dinner.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was going to say.” Except it wasn't, because I’m always hungry.

  “It’s a shame because I know an awesome little taco place.”

  My mouth falls open at the mere mention of tacos. My kryptonite, and the reason I could never make it as a runway model. Well, that, and the fact that I’m only five foot three and have zero interest in modelling. “Tacos?” I ask, trying to rein in my excitement.

  “Tacos.” Why does it sound even more appealing and somewhat sexual coming out of his mouth? He places a napkin on the table and slides it over to me. “If you change your mind, call this number.”

  “Is it the number for the awesome taco place?”

  He chuckles. “I guess you’ll have to call it to find out.”

  “What are you, my dealer?”

  “If that’s what you want to call me.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I can give you what you need…”

  I pick up the napkin and try not to blush. “You do realize that I’m going t
o be massively disappointed if this isn’t the number for delicious tacos."

  He stands up, leaving me at eye level with his crotch. Well now I’m blushing. "The person who answers the phone will be more than happy to satisfy your hunger, Cora.”

  I have a feeling we’re not talking about tacos anymore. He walks away, leaving me frozen in my chair, unable to do anything except take some deep, steadying breaths.

  I may joke about always feeling hungry…but now I'm ravenous.

  Chapter Three

  I face-plant onto my bed, completely drained after playing catch-up this morning. I guess that’s what happens when you wake up and discover that you’ve lost the last eighteen months of your life.

  Just as I can feel myself starting to drift off, my phone blasts out, ‘You Are My Sunshine’. I jump up and rummage around in my bag, acting as though it’s a bomb which is about to detonate. I don’t know why I panic so much whenever I get a phone call. Maybe it’s because everybody uses social media these days, so if somebody calls me, I assume it must be important. My stomach flips when I come across Spencer’s napkin. I shouldn’t have even brought it home with me. What can I say? I really like tacos. I screw the napkin up into a ball - my feeble attempt at exerting some self-control, but I still can’t bring myself to throw it in the trash.

  I finally find my cell at the very bottom of my bag and spot Roxy’s name flashing across the screen. “Hello?” I answer, just before it’s about to go to voicemail.

  “When did you sneak off?” she asks.

  “I didn’t sneak off,” I tell her, as I carry on rummaging and find a half-eaten bar of chocolate. I make sure it looks edible before checking the sell-by date. “You were busy with the lunchtime rush and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “I know, I know. Spencer mentioned you were writing…”

  “Oh, he did, did he?” I take a bite. It’s surprisingly good. “What else did Spencer mention?”

  “Just that he asked you out to dinner, but you turned him down.”

  Here we go. “And you know exactly why I did that.”

  She laughs. “How many times are we going to have this conversation?”