Taming Mr. Jerkface (The Taming Series Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  Now that my heart rate had returned to a safe pace, I felt a surge of pride at this account of my… boyfriend.

  “That sounds like him.”

  “Yeah. Hey, I gotta get back to the grind, but it was great to meet you. If the whole Spencer thing doesn’t work out, feel free to knock on the next office over.”

  I laughed at Peyton’s theatrics and waved good bye when he safely delivered me into Spencer’s office.

  “Remember, no making out!” he called loudly before he closed the door.

  That man was something else.

  Ah, in a few minutes my guy would step through that door. I made myself comfy and sat down to wait. He was worth it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The room hadn’t changed since I’d last been in here, the day I was tasered and Spencer carried me to the couch. It was still impersonal. Still a corner office. Still tidy, with sleek and cutting edge furniture. Alexi Arthurs’ paintings, Spencer’s favorite artist, held the place of honor on his walls. Yet I surveyed the office with new eyes. The boss. Spencer was the boss.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. The guy hadn’t out rightly lied to me. I’d never asked him if he owned a business. But the omission made me feel dirty somehow. Did Spencer distrust me? Did he think that if I ever found out I would change into a money-grabbing-gold-digging-user? Did he see me as someone that shallow?

  Honestly, Spencer’s material possessions changed nothing. I wasn’t going to punish him because he was successful. But the fact that he didn’t tell me… it burdened my mind a bit. I settled into Spencer’s swivel chair and felt annoyance at his dishonesty creeping up my leg. I shook the limb and propelled my foot so that the chair swung sideways.

  Hmm…

  No. I needed to stay mad at Spencer.

  But my leg catapulted the chair in the other direction.

  Okay, that was fun. Maybe anger could wait until later.

  My gaze darted from the closed door to the wide free space behind the desk and back. I was immediately overtaken by the childish urge to spin the chair as fast as it could go. And why not? I was alone in this place. Only God could judge me.

  Stomping the floor and working my butt, I prepared the chair for a spin that belonged in the Guinness World Records. Finally, when I felt almost dizzy from the preparation of it, I pulled my feet to my chest as the chair gained enough momentum to spin out on its own.

  At that moment the door opened.

  But it was too late to stop this tornado.

  My first revolution I noticed Spencer’s confused expression when he spotted his chair spinning like a top.

  My second turn around, I saw the split second Spencer recognized me. His confused look grew.

  My last orbit, I managed to shoot my knees out and clutch the desk to stop the motion. By the time the room stopped spinning, Spencer had walked deeper into the office.

  “Melody?”

  “Uh-huh?” I grunted, still dealing with the after-effects of pumping the swivel chair and rotating at a bazillion miles a minute.

  “Are you okay?” he asked concerned, as I tried to stand and wobbled a little.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.” I lied breathlessly, putting my hand out to stop him from coming closer and holding me up.

  He eyed the chair and then pierced me with the ghost smile. That slow, knowing grin tugged his lips upward,

  “Why were you spinning in my chair?”

  “I wasn’t spinning in it.” I lied again. I was going straight to hell.

  He remained unconvinced.

  “I was … ugh… testing its swivelness.”

  Spencer laughed, “You are so adorable,” he teased.

  I frowned.

  He laughed some more.

  I leaned over the desk between us and pushed at his chest.

  “Don’t be mean.”

  “It was a compliment.”

  Okay, that softened me. I grinned.

  He grinned back.

  It was a freakin’ Colgate commercial in here.

  “Um, surprise.” I remembered after about five seconds of flashing our teeth at each other.

  An eyebrow arched. “Who let you in? Peyton?”

  “Yeah, he did,”

  “So strange…”

  “What?”

  “Tiffany said there was an animal in here and she asked me if I wanted her to exterminate it.”

  That dang Tiffany.

  “I’m sure she was just joking.” I quipped through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah, I’m sure she was.”

  “So did you and Peyton plan this?” He grinned “I wouldn’t put that beyond him.”

  “Actually he was the one with the big idea. He dropped me off in here after threatening Mafia mob interference if I hurt you or your fragile heart.” I teased.

  Spencer’s face hardened. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Whoa, someone got way too intense way too fast. I didn’t need Spencer decking his best friend the way he’d decked that ignorant man in the bistro.

  I waved away the sentiment, “It’s okay. He’s nice. I like him. He’s a straight shooter. Unlike some people.”

  I raised both eyebrows and bugged my eyes in his direction.

  “Who me?” he said, guiltily.

  I put my hands on my hips in the universal symbol of ‘busted’, “You forgot to mention that this little company you work at… yeah… YOU OWN IT! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Spencer looked away, “I didn’t think it was important.”

  “The fact that you built a successful company is the definition of important!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to mention the fact that I run my own company. I should have brought it up. Does it change anything?”

  “A part of me wants to give you a hard time for deceiving me.” I sighed. “But honestly, it’s not a big deal to me. I just … I need to know that you didn’t purposely hide it from me because you thought I’d treat you differently.”

  Spencer came around the desk and hugged me. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I know you’re not that kind of person. You’re caring and open and genuine. Beautiful,” he kissed my cheek.

  “Mm, flattery will get you nowhere.” I nudged him away, “But I’m serious. This is the last big secret you’re going to spring on me right? You’re not secretly married with a love child in Alabama or a circus performer in your spare time?”

  “Nope, not married, no kids, and I’m desperately afraid of clowns so I’m never joining the circus. I’m just a guy who likes a girl,” he leaned closer for a kiss.

  I drew back, “The guy who lied to the girl that he likes. Ring a bell?”

  He chuckled softly, “Okay, I admit it. I’ve been a jerk-face.”

  “Right,” I said, craning my neck to look at him, “and for the record, I won’t treat you any differently. I’ll happily remind you that you’re a jerk-face, any time you need.”

  Spencer smiled, and then apologized again, “I really am sorry about not telling you the whole truth.” He set me away so I didn’t have to strain my neck to see his face, “and about the other night.” He rubbed his face and led me to the couch, “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. But the thought of you with someone else-”

  “Wait. When did I ever talk about being with someone else?”

  He searched my eyes, “When we kissed that night. You said I taught you how to do it so that some other guy could benefit.”

  I didn’t remember phrasing it that way exactly but…

  “You made us sound cheap, Melody, like our connection is just some experiment to prepare you for a real relationship.”

  I felt stricken, ashamed that I had inspired such a sentiment in Spencer.

  “That wasn’t-”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, this is all new-”

  “I get it.”

  Silence lingered, until I ventured.

  “So, what do we do now? I am leaving on Saturday and that means we
have to decide…”

  “Do you care about me?” Spencer interrupted.

  I placed my hand on his. He turned his palm over so that our fingers interlocked. The strange blend of pale and brown skin was different, unique, unusual… but right.

  “You know that I do.” I said with all my heart.

  “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He confessed quietly, “Even if that means putting my obsession with planning aside and living for the moment- in all these moments - with you.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I confessed, squeezing his hand tight.

  “Hey, let’s worry about all that later and make the most of the time we have left until you leave.”

  Spencer kissed me on the forehead and held me close, soothing away the worry lines etched there.

  “You’re good for me. How are you so good for me?” I murmured, eyes tightly shut, “I’m afraid that I’ll open my eyes and find that you’ve just been a dream.”

  I heard the smile in his voice even with my eyes closed, “I’m no dream,” he admitted, his voice gravelly with regret, “There are so many choices that I wish I’d made differently so that I could be a better man for you.”

  I hid within the shadows of my closed eyelids, “I don’t need a better man,” I confessed, “I just need one that’s open to the Truth.”

  “I’m searching,” Spencer replied, “I’m open. So open your eyes, Melody. I’ll be here.”

  I did as he bid, slowly opening my eyes.

  “Have I mentioned before that you have beautiful eyes, Ms. Reyes.”

  I smiled, “You might have pointed it out once or twice, but not today.”

  “Well, you do.”

  “Hmm…”

  He leaned down to kiss me, but I drew back.

  Spencer tipped his head, as if to say ‘what?’.

  “Peyton made me promise not to make out in here.” I explained

  Mock annoyance colored Spencer’s expression, “Now why would you go and promise something like that.” He tried to tug me back toward him and deposit me in his lap. I wiggled free.

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “There’s a storage closet down the hall.” He suggested helpfully, when he realized that nothing was going to happen in his office.

  “Spencer Braden!” I scolded, “I’m not going to make out with you in a storage closet!”

  He shrugged, “It was worth a shot.”

  I rolled my eyes at his one-track-mind and stood.

  “Come on, Old Man, I heard you have a hot date for lunch this afternoon.”

  He stayed seated, “Who are you calling old? I’m only five years older than you.”

  I bent and grabbed his hands, trying to lift him out of the sofa.

  “Exactly, you’re basically my elder. I should start calling you ‘sir’.”

  Using his far exceeding strength, Spencer flicked his wrist and pulled me so that I tumbled unceremoniously into his lap. Cradling my face he teased, “you can call me ‘sir’ anytime,” then his lips met mine. After two seconds of that, I pushed him away, giggling,

  “Hey!”

  “Okay, okay,” he gently deposited me on my feet and then stood, “Let’s go to lunch, babe.”

  I have to admit, hearing Spencer call me ‘babe’ might have melted my heart just a wee bit. And when he reached for my hand as we passed Tiffany’s receptionist desk, I couldn’t resist waving sweetly at her.

  Spencer took me to Isabella’s again. I received the same treatment from his ever-exuberant ex-nanny turned restaurateur.

  “Melody, bonita linda, how are you! It’s been so long since you’ve been by.”

  “Uh, she was here last week Isabella.” Spencer hesitantly defended me.

  “Ah, seven days is too long,” Isabella protested. I laughed at her liveliness. It was hard not to love that woman.

  “Come sit, sit!” She led us to a table and placed a quick kiss on my cheek before scurrying back to her podium.

  “Have I mentioned that I love her?” I informed Spencer as we got settled in.

  “Nah, I think that’s the first time.”

  “Well, I do.” I made it clear, “Too bad I can’t ship her off to Belize with me.” I laughed awkwardly.

  Spencer quirked an eyebrow, “It’s quite obvious that she loves you too.”

  “The first time we came in here, she told me that you’ve never brought a lady friend to meet them. I thought that was strange. Do you know what she was trying to tell me?”

  Spencer’s neck got a pink tinge. Was he … blushing.

  “Spencer, why are you blushing?”

  “I am? Wow, it must be hot in here.”

  I laughed at his geekiness, deciding to let him off the hook, and dropped the subject for now. After our orders had been taken, Spencer and I discussed how our day was going so far. He congratulated me on my presentation win and even casually admitted that he’d been listening to more of Dr. Myles’ teachings. The chatter was natural and flowing and the food was perfecto, especially since Amber was a lot more professional this go-around.

  Then the conversation turned to books, and specifically Pride and Prejudice.

  “Spencer, you can’t really believe that Darcy was right in that nonsense about how much he couldn’t love Elizabeth.”

  Spencer cleaned his tomato basted fingers with his napkin.

  “Of course he was. There were very realistic and practical obstacles to their union. Darcy was simply ensuring that Elizabeth understood the depth of his love by pointing them out to her.”

  I rolled my eyes and wielded my breadstick as though it was a magic wand infused with the power to lend Spencer some romantical sense. “Because the ‘realistic and practical obstacles’ are exactly what a woman wants to hear when a man is declaring his love to her.”

  Spencer took a sip of his sweet tea and challenged me.

  “You can’t disagree that acknowledging the problems before entering into a relationship can benefit the longevity of it.”

  My voice rose with passion, “Spencer, you’re talking about love as if can be analyzed and hypothesized.”

  “Love is a chemical reaction. It makes people do crazy things, yes, but at its core, love is a biological phenomenon.”

  I looked at him, not believing the drivel coming out of his mouth.

  “What?” he asked.

  I slowly shook my head, “How can you be so smart and at the same time so so stupid?”

  “Melody…”

  “No. No.” I threw down my napkin, “Infatuation, lust, those are biological reactions to chemicals in the brain. And yeah, they can wither up and die or transfer their affections to a bunch of different people at a time. But love… love is a decision. It’s more than biology. It’s more than lust, sex, needs and desires. Love is sacrifice and humility and…”

  Spencer placed a gentle hand on my napkin enclosed fist, halting my rant. “Okay, calm down, Melody. Let’s just agree to disagree.”

  I wanted to argue. I wanted to hash it out until he saw the error of his ways, but Spencer’s tender gaze muted me. He didn’t want to fight. And despite our crazily distant views on love and faith, I found that… I didn’t want to fight either. At least, not today.

  “Fine,” I gave in, “I agree to disagree. As long as you know that you’re wrong.”

  “Melody, I think you’re missing the point.”

  “Ah bah bah,” I cut him off, “I’m good, are you good?”

  He laughed at my stubbornness, “I’m good.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Isabella gave me a long hug before we left the café. This time, she didn’t pull me aside to impart puzzling words of wisdom. As we bid her goodbye, she nodded and stated with the utmost confidence, “See you again.”

  Sadly, Spencer had already scheduled a business meeting and was booked for the rest of the day so we couldn’t run off together. I decided to call up Susan and Keisha and see if either was available to hang out. I didn’t want to be
alone right now. And I knew that those women could cheer me up. It’s funny the connections you make when you meet the right people. I had known Keisha and Susan for only a handful of weeks, but we just clicked. There was no other explanation.

  Keisha was free for a chill session, so I texted Susan to meet us at her store. Spencer dropped me there before he went to work. He parked the car in front of the building.

  “I could just blow off Peyton, you know.”

  I smiled, touched that he would ditch work to be with me, but mindful of his commitment to his business and his friend.

  “It’s okay. I’ll see you later.” I consoled, meshing my hand with his, loving the closeness.

  He fingered the dark brown curl at my shoulder. I noticed that he liked playing with my hair. I needed to teach him how to massage my scalp, put his idle hands to good use.

  “I love your hair. You know that?”

  I laughed and leaned over to open the car door, “I know that you’re going to be late for your meeting if you don’t get going.”

  He groaned, but allowed me to get out of the car without further comment.

  “Hey jerk-face,” I called when I slammed the door closed.

  He looked up curiously.

  “Call me,” I pantomimed with my pinky finger extended to my lips and thumb to my ear, and then turned and strutted into the store. I heard Spencer fire up his vehicle and drive off a few seconds later.

  “Good afternoon,” I called to the teenage cashier standing behind the counter.

  She smiled and bid me the time of day. The store was moderately busy and I wondered if Keisha was truly free to hang out when the store was buzzing.

  “Hey girl,” Keisha stepped from behind a shelf and into view. Several bottles of cinnamon rested in a crate at her feet.

  “Slow day, huh,” I said, gazing at the plethora of shoppers in the store.

  Keisha stood and nodded, “It’s pretty full right now.”

  “Need some help with that?” I gestured to the crate.

  “Sure,” Keisha agreed and we stooped side by side, adjusting the spice rack. As we worked, Keisha stepped away every now and then to direct a customer or greet a friend.