Taming Mr. Charming (The Taming Series Book 2) Read online

  He sighed, “On the inside I gave up on ideas of commitment and faithfulness. Girls don’t respect those qualities in a man anymore. They don’t even expect it. So that’s what I became.”

  I laughed softly, “We were so messed up.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  The rhythm of the sea played us a special before Peyton spoke again,

  “Is Charles meeting all the checks on your list?”

  “He was,” I admitted, “But I think we broke up today.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  I gripped the edges of the blanket, “There’s not much to say. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, some of them more public than others. People don’t forget and Charles had a problem with that.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Wanna know what convinced me about this faith business?” I peered up at him and nodded, agreeing to the random change in conversation.

  “Our world is so flawed. People hurt other people; governments get more corrupt; lives are snuffed out in a second. My sister killed herself and the sun didn’t stop shining and the earth didn’t stop turning. And I couldn’t stand the hopelessness of it all. Kara died because she didn’t think she had a purpose; for a long time I didn’t think I had one either. And then Spencer started listening to this man talking about a Kingdom and a world where everybody was created for a reason. I was never the same.”

  “Cool,” I responded.

  “My point is,” he grinned, “no matter where we go or what we do or if we believe in God or not, it doesn’t change the fact that we have a purpose. Your past doesn’t negate what you have inside that’s going to change the world. I believe that.”

  I internalized his words, marveling at how profoundly they impacted me. In the dim shadows cast by the lantern, I turned to steal a glance at the handsome man beside me. It was so easy to judge by the outside. Peyton’s strawberry blonde hair and pale skin represented so many negative things in the history of our region: slavery, rape, injustice. But tonight sitting here beside this American man who knew close to nothing about my Belizean heritage and who had so much more in common with people from Beverly Hills rather than Crenshaw Lane, the structures of Caribbean history did not matter. Peyton’s kindness, honor, and integrity overrode his white privilege. Why did I keep distancing him for being born white when black people in every nation cried out for equality?

  Caught up in the flickering shadows of the night, the relentless presence of the stars, the rush of the breeze, the pull of the Caribbean Sea, I scooted closer to my friend,

  “You’re a good person, Peyton Lowry.”

  He ducked his head, bringing his face close to mine, “I wish I was a better one.”

  I smiled, my gaze searching his eyes, “That desire right there is what makes you so…”

  He leaned closer, “So…”

  What-what was I talking about again.

  “Peyton, are we going to…?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  My breaths came in spurts as my heart thudded so painfully through my chest, I thought I would die, “I do.”

  His stunned features gave way to a primal, male smile. I shivered at the strength of my own feelings. He leaned in close, and stopped.

  “Are you sure,” he teased, “I could a pop a mint or something before-”

  I quickly ate up the space between us and kissed him. At first he let me set the pace, but then he took control and kissed me so thoroughly, my heart beat so fast through my chest I thought it would break out. His lips were persistent, intense, as if he were trying to communicate something. His hands gripped my back and he pulled me even closer. I ran my hands through his hair, marveling at how soft it was. Peyton made a sound at the back of his throat which very much resembled a growl and I figured that he liked it when my hands were in his hair. Peyton gave and gave, not demanding anything from me but surrender. I was too far from him. I needed to be closer. My hands and heart did their own thing as I focused on learning the rhythm of his movement, in awe of the explosion of emotions bursting in my chest. Needing more, I gripped Peyton’s collar and tipped us gently back so that we were horizontal. The kiss grew a lot less controlled. Peyton pulled back, breathing heavily,

  “Mia, maybe,” I smothered his words with kisses but he drew away again, his voice weaker, but conviction in his eyes,

  “We should,” I kissed his neck, his voice faltered, he kissed me back for another minute before abruptly pulling away from me and fleeing outside to the balcony. As cold air rushed around me, I noticed the hiked length of my dress. Peyton’s shirt flapped haphazardly in the wind. Somehow I’d unbuttoned all those hooks.

  A sharp, swift shame swept over me.

  Oh Lord, what would I have done if Peyton hadn’t stopped us? With stilted movements, I collected my shoes from where I had deposited them a few hours earlier. Smoothing my probably crazy hair, I avoided Peyton’s eyes as I requested,

  “Take me home.”

  Peyton sighed, barreling his hands into his hair. “Mia…”

  “Take me home, Peyton.” I repeated.

  Without another word, he nodded and fished his keys from his pocket. I collected the blanket, food plates, and water bottles and made my way down the stairs and ladder. The ride home was the most awkward I have ever had and I’ve had some awkward moments in my life. In fact, this was the first time I felt so uncomfortable after a kiss. But this was different. This was Peyton. My self-control had totally failed me today. If I thought I didn’t really have feelings for Peyton before tonight, I sure as Lucy found out exactly what I really thought of him. When he parked in the parking lot, I pulled on the door handle.

  “Mia,” he called after me, “we need to talk about this.”

  “Good night.” I ignored his words.

  “Mia-”

  But I was already out of the car and barreling up the stairs to my apartment. I felt the shame that used to haunt me back in the BK days rising from the grave and welcoming me back with open arms. It’s dark, sludgy body crushed against me, following me as I unlocked the door and crashed on the couch. I couldn’t get over how stupid I had been tonight. If Peyton hadn’t had an ounce more self-restraint, things would have ended very differently. I would have broken my vow to God and to myself. And our friendship certainly would be over. Unfortunately after the crap I pulled tonight, it probably already was.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Peyton sent me a long text on Sunday night about not beating myself up about our make out session last night and that he’d give me some space if that’s what I wanted. The thing was, I didn’t know what I wanted. All my life, I thought I had a concrete vision of my ‘someday’. Someday I’d sum up enough courage to market my designs. Someday I’d find someone that loved me the way Mr. Reyes loved his wife. Someday I’d have a baby and teach him or her all about life and love. And in all of my imaginings, I’d seen a man that looked a lot like Charles, well-built, handsome, and dark-skinned, beside me. Obviously, my body didn’t care about skin-tones given its reaction to a very pale man last night and I had no idea what to do about that.

  Monday flew into Tuesday and I heard no news from Peyton or Charles. Even though I knew I needed to be thinking about my situation and working through whatever internal issues I had so that I could choose to either rekindle things with Charles or formally end it so that I could figure out what to do about Peyton, I kept pushing it out of my mind. I sequestered myself at the shop or in my apartment and designed. My creative juices gushed like a nosebleed during this awkwardly silent time. As Thursday moved into Friday, I grew antsier. Something had to give. Peyton couldn’t ignore me forever. I needed some kind of closure with Charles. Eventually, I’d run into one or both of them. Belize is really small.

  Trust me, if I could have dodged them both I would in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, avoiding someone in a country the size of Belize is hard enough. It’s even harder to evade them if you own a store and you can’t legally ban them from entering it. To showcase ho
w messed up my life had become, I seriously considered posting the two men’s pictures on the wall of shame under the heading “I’VE GOT 99 PROBLEMS BUT YOU WON’T BE ONE”. Estefan understood that the few faces on the wall had tried to steal and so were not allowed to return to the store. That was all he needed to know. I was too chicken to do that, however, and whenever that day came I’d just have to take it in stride.

  Thank God for the business of Fridays. The introductory day to the weekend usually lifted my spirits and the steady stream of customers arriving in a steady trickle from three in the afternoon to six o’clock boosted my profits. Fridays were an all around great day. I had just boxed up an earring and necklace set for a customer when I glanced up and saw …

  “Charles?”

  His name slipped out on a confused breath. We hadn’t left things on the friendliest of terms. I was really surprised to see him standing in the middle of the store. Charles didn’t seem like the show-up-and-dazzle type.

  He strode closer. “Can we talk?” he asked in a low voice.

  I glanced around at the shoppers milling about the shop, some were gazing our way. They were probably wondering if they’d scored tickets to a soap opera scenario between the shop keeper and the dashing bank manager.

  “No, now is the best time for that.” I whispered back, keeping an eye on the older woman over by the lingerie section who was unabashedly staring our way.

  “When are you closing today?” he inquired hesitantly.

  I shifted on my feet and smiled as a young girl stepped up to the counter.

  “At seven.” I replied, grinning through gritted teeth and feeling inestimably uncomfortable.

  “I’ll be back.” He said. I tried to gauge his vibes to determine if that was a promise or a threat.

  “Wow,” The young woman said as I rang up her items, “He’s fine. Your boyfriend?”

  I shrugged, quickly returning her attention to the total of her purchases.

  Officially, Charles and I had not ended anything, although I couldn’t see how our relationship could be rejuvenated after he threw my past in my face the way that he did. Still, if he needed proper closure then who was I to restrict him? On the other hand, what if he intended to apologize and win me back? I had no idea what I would do if the latter scenario was the case.

  Ugh, relationships are so complicated.

  It was with some trepidation that I switched the sign from Open to Closed a few hours later. With pantomiming gestures, and my broken Spanglish I encouraged Estefan to leave early. I didn’t want him to be around to witness my embarrassing excuse for a love life. Though I assured him that I would be okay, Estefan insisted on staying with me until I closed up and armed the store. Trying to find the words in Spanish was way too exhausting so I let him have his way, informing him that I’d be sticking around for a meeting with a friend.

  I occupied myself by redressing the mannequin. A few minutes later, the door squeaked open announcing someone’s entrance into the store. I heard the distinct thuds of a male’s footsteps and whirled around to welcome Charles. Except it wasn’t Charles.

  Uh-oh.

  “Peyton, what are you doing here?”

  Dressed in a white button-down shirt and black pants with his brown Oxfords, Peyton made my heart beat a bit faster. I couldn’t quite pinpoint if it was from anticipation or dread. He approached me slowly as if I were a rabid raccoon and he didn’t want to get bitten. “I thought we could talk.”

  I groaned and held the mannequin hand to my head, “Why did everyone choose today to talk?”

  He looked puzzled, “Are you okay?”

  “What do you want me to say to you, Peyton? We kissed. It was great. I’m confused. Does that sound like I’m okay?”

  He took a step forward and grinned charmingly, “You thought it was great?”

  I put the mannequin arm back in the slot and straightened the dress on display to avoid his avid blue gaze, “It wasn’t bad. Why are you smiling? Everything’s complicated now.”

  “Kissing me isn’t the end of the world, Mia.”

  I totally disagreed with that. But before I could open my mouth and retort, I spotted Charles coming through the door.

  “Oh crap.” I froze.

  “What?” Peyton asked and turned his head to see what I was staring at.

  Charles nodded at me and came deeper into the room to stand directly in front of me.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said, kissing my cheek. “About last week at lunch…” Charles trailed off when he noticed my constipated expression. Yes, I was so uncomfortable; I looked like I belonged in the bathroom. He seemed to notice Peyton standing there for the first time.

  “Hey,” he addressed the taller, leaner man, “its Peyton right? I’m sorry, man. I need to talk to Mia privately.”

  With that dismissive order, Charles turned and returned to face me. I saw the expression on Peyton’s face and I knew that testosterone had taken over.

  “That’s too bad, man. I was talking to Mia first so just wait your turn.”

  Charles swirled around slowly as though he couldn’t believe that Peyton had challenged him. I was going to pass out from all the testosterone fumes in here. Thank God Estefan was calmly locking up the shop, keeping a sharp eye out on the men eyeing each other like a pair of fighter dogs. If this thing turned into a Jerry Springer show, I’d need Estefan’s bulk to return the store to order.

  “Why don’t you go hop on a tour bus with all the other tourists and leave our women alone, huh Mr. America?”

  I winced, praying that Peyton didn’t bring up our kiss as some kind of weapon in this pissing game.

  “Are all Belizean men this delusional or is it just you? As far as I know, the lady can make up her own mind about who she wants to speak to right now.”

  Stricken, I remained mute. I debated pretending that someone was calling me and sneaking out of the boutique. No way did I want to get in the middle of this. I expected both men to look my way and ask me to choose one of them like we were in primary school and picking teams to play ‘chase’. Fortunately, the two guys didn’t even glance my way. Unfortunately, they sized each other up like fighter dogs in a ring. Charles seemed especially irritated. His face darkened, as he stepped into Peyton’s space and shoved him.

  “Save yourself some trouble and get your red neck out of here.”

  Okay, whenever the sun even neared Peyton’s skin, he got kind of red, but that was low, even for Charles.

  “Hey!” I protested. Peyton was my friend and that was unnecessary.

  “It’s okay, Mia,” Peyton put out a hand to calm my temper, “He’s not worth it.”

  Charles gaze ricocheted from me to Peyton. My breath came in snatches. Name calling was mean and it ticked me off that Charles was acting so condescending and rude. After a few seconds of his careful observation, Charles seemed to come to a conclusion. He chuckled softly,

  “I am such an idiot!” he cried.

  I stepped back, stunned. I’d been dating a lunatic!

  Peyton grew concerned and moved to stand before me in a protective stance. Just a few minutes ago the guy was flying off the handle and now he was laughing. I was grateful for Peyton’s gesture. Charles wiped his mouth and shook his head from side to side. Peyton eyed him warily as he stepped closer to us.

  “I should have known it. You were messing with this white man all along weren’t you? Posting pictures together on Facebook and hanging out all the time. And I actually trusted you.” he chuckled, “everyone warned me and I let you fool me.”

  “Charles, I never cheated on you,” I stepped out from behind my human shield. “Peyton and I were just friends.”

  Estefan, who had been advancing closer with an eye on the squabble, stepped forward when he heard the loud voices, becoming a new member of this awkwardly horrific party.

  “You were friends, right?” he said nastily, “And now he’s what? Your sugar daddy? You curing him of jungle fever, Mia?”

&nb
sp; Charles cruel words found their mark. I gasped. The next few moments kind of went by in slow motion.

  Peyton pressed forward, his voice a deadly stillness in the tension of the small store, “You need to apologize to the lady right now.” His blue eyes blazed like some kind of Viking warrior.

  Despite his fisted hands, Charles confessed, “I didn’t come here to fight. This whore’s not worth it anyway.”

  Unfortunately, it seemed that Peyton had come to fight. Now let me just drop a pin here and mention two things: firstly Belizeans do not fight like Americans do. In Belize, even playful fisticuffs between brothers involve down and dirty moves. Secondly, Peyton was taller but much leaner than Charles. Therefore, all the American got in was one punch before Charles pummeled him. I screamed and launched myself near them trying to stay out of the way, but yelling for them to stop. Thank God for Estefan, who plucked Charles and Peyton apart as though they were children. Peyton’s fair skin around his eyes was already bruising and he had a split lip. Estefan escorted a yelling Charles out the door as I rushed to Peyton’s side and observed the damage.

  My heart was pounding so hard, I thought it would burst. I punched Peyton in the arm.

  “What were you thinking?”

  He winced which wasn’t hard as his eyes were swollen so far they were slits.

  Estefan returned with an icepack which he’d purchased at an Asian grocer across the street. His silent support was my only barrier from a horde of tears. I accepted it from him.

  “Gracias,” he only nodded in reply then stood sentinel over the door. I placed an ice pack on the swelling over Peyton’s eye. Peyton held his hand over mine. I looked away as a funny feeling shook my chest.

  “Hey,” Peyton said through cracked lips. Oh how I wanted to kiss those lips till they healed. I wanted to throw my arms around this man and never let go. But common sense held me back. That and the fact that my self-restraint took flight when he held me.

  “Peyton, I-” my voice cracked. I looked away, even as Peyton held my hand firmly in place. “What do you want from me?”

  He sat up slowly, letting the ice pack fall to his chest. He brought our interlocked fingers to rest on his lap and with his other hand brushed a lock of dark brown hair from my face and then tipped up my chin so that I looked back at him. His blue eyes pulled me in, as he spoke,