Different Tastes (The Alexanders Book 7)

by Tina Martin

  Chapter 11

  After swimming Alone for an hour, Preston returned to his room. Tamera must have changed her mind about joining him. He couldn’t say he was surprised. Her sudden shift in comfortability in the elevator was a clue she wouldn’t be comfortable with him. If she had come down, they would’ve been alone in the pool. Maybe she’d anticipated that and decided to avoid it.

  He glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 9:32 p.m. He wondered if she was still up. She would have a long day tomorrow at the festival. Maybe she’d gone to bed early. It nagged him that he didn’t know.

  He sat on the bed and dialed her room number, listening as the phone rang twice, then:

  “Hello.”

  “Hey. It’s Preston.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you okay?” he heard himself asking, thinking about that for a moment. He actually cared about her. How could he care about a woman he hardly knew?

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Any reason why you stood me up?”

  “Sorry. I was tired. I decided to rest instead of swim,” she said.

  Preston knew it was something more. He wanted to ask what time she was heading to the festival in the morning, and wanted them to ride together, but he knew that’s not what she would’ve wanted. Besides, being along while she gathered material for her article might have been her process. All writers had their own way of prepping for a new story.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No. I’m good,” she said. “Thanks for asking.”

  “All right, well, have a good night, Tamera.”

  “You as well. Bye.”

  He hung up the phone, still feeling an incredible attachment to her. An urge to put eyes on her to ensure she was okay. He rubbed his hands together, not ready to go to sleep just yet. Even if he had laid down, he’d only be staring at the ceiling, thinking about the woman across the hallway. He wondered why she was so withdrawn from him in the elevator.

  He blew a breath. Frustrated. It shouldn’t have nagged him this much. He hardly knew her. And that was the problem. He wanted to know her. Wanted to know why she was gorgeous and still single, and why she didn’t do relationships – short or long-term, she’d said. He knew just how to find out.

  Taking his cell phone from the nightstand, he sent Daphne a text:

  Preston: Daphne, sorry do disturb you so late at night. Can you get me Tyson Alexander’s phone number, please?

  It wasn’t even a minute later when Daphne texted him with Tyson’s number. He smiled, replied with a ‘thank you’ before immediately dialing Tyson’s number. He didn’t know what he’d say to him. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It had been years since he’d last spoken to Tyson. How would Tyson react to a late night call from—

  “Hello?” Tyson answered.

  “Hey, Tyson.”

  “Preston Michaels…long time no speak,” Tyson said. He’d saved Preston’s cell phone number in his contacts. When Preston was conducting the interview with him, they’d exchanged business cards and had even talked about future interviews. Tyson had a feeling this had nothing to do with a second interview. Tamera had already told him about the review she was writing and he’d informed her that Preston was Serenity Michaels’ brother. Assuming she’d written the article, Preston must’ve been calling him about it. Had to be.

  “I know it’s been a minute, but I’m in town. Wanted to see if you could grab a drink or something.”

  “Sure,” Tyson said. He didn’t have any plans. The kids were sleeping already and Gabrielle was in the kitchen with her laptop finishing up some work before bed. “You have a spot in mind?”

  “Not particularly. How about someplace near you?”

  “Okay. Meet me at Sunset Bar. You can GPS it. It’s down the street from my house.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes.”

  “All right, man. Later.”

  * * *

  Preston stepped inside the bar and slapped hands with Tyson who was already seated and waiting.

  “What’s up, man?” Tyson said.

  “Busy working,” Preston responded, sitting on a barstool next to him.

  “What are you doing in this neck of the woods? If you came by for another interview, I might have to charge you this time,” Tyson quipped.

  Preston grinned. “I’m here for work. A Taste of the Beach is going on this weekend. I’m writing an article on it. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “Really. I was just out there with my wife and the kids.”

  “Wife?” Preston asked although he knew Tyson was married since Tamera had told him already.

  “Oh yeah. That’s right. I wasn’t married when you interviewed me, but yeah, man. I’m a happily married man with two beautiful children.”

  “That’s awesome. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  The bartender placed two beers in front of them. Tyson grabbed one. Preston took the other.

  “How was the festival?” Preston asked.

  “It was nice.” Tyson took a pull from his bottle. “It’s a good place for a family outing in the Outer Banks. You’ll find plenty to write about. That’s for sure.”

  “Your sister is writing an article on it, too.”

  A frown formed in Tyson’s forehead. “That’s strange. Tamera didn’t mention anything to me about coming here this weekend.”

  “Maybe she’s waiting to spring it on you,” Preston said.

  “I don’t think so. She would’ve told me if she was coming here. I’m sure she’s probably home doing what she does every Friday night—eat popcorn and watch a movie.”

  “Actually, she’s at Ocean Sands Resort. Said she was tired.”

  Tyson’s overprotective brotherly instinct instantly kicked in. “What are you saying, Preston?”

  “Just telling you we’re at the same hotel, and no, we didn’t come up here together. I didn’t know she would be staying there, but she’s there.”

  “Listen, Preston, I know about the article she was writing for your sister’s restaurant, and if that’s why you wanted to meet with me, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”

  “I don’t care about the article and that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to talk about her.”

  Tyson grinned uncomfortably. He saw where this was going. “You want to talk about my sister.”

  “Yes.”

  “In what context?”

  “In the context that I like her and I want to understand her better.”

  Tyson stroked his mustache, recalling the last man his sister was involved with. Mark was one of Dilvan’s friends and had treated Tamera like a punching bag. Tyson swore he’d never let another man hurt her. He didn’t know Preston all that well, but he seemed like a standup guy. Then again, at one time, so did Mark.

  Looking at Preston, he asked, “Have you been seeing her?”

  “No. Well, we had dinner together tonight, but I met her for the first time a few days ago.”

  “And already, you’re trying to find out some things about her?”

  “I am.”

  “And what is it you’re trying to understand better?”

  “Why she tenses up whenever we’re in close proximity to each other.”

  Tyson rubbed a hand across his head, having flashbacks of the bruises on his sister’s face. Those flashbacks, in turn, made him remember the abuse his own wife had suffered at the hands of her ex-husband. “She has her reasons. If you’re looking for my advice, it would be to leave her alone. I don’t know what you want from her, but my sister isn’t ready for a relationship.”

  “And you can’t tell me why?” Preston asked. “Tyson, I’m not trying to be disrespectful but there’s something about her that’s calling out to me. I can’t explain it and I’ve never had it happen to me before. I simply need to know what I’m working with. I give you my word that I won’t do anything to hurt Tamera.”

  “Her husband made the sam
e promise to me.”

  “Husband?” Preston said, dejected. “She’s married?”

  Tyson took a sip of beer. “Was married. Been divorced for four years. Her ex-husband…” He grimaced. “He beat her.”

  Preston swallowed hard, feeling anger seep through his bones. Now, he understood why she was so standoffish. He couldn’t imagine a man striking any woman, but Tamera? She was sweet and one-hundred percent harmless. How could anyone lay a hand on her?

  “She hid it from me for years,” Tyson went on to say. “One day I saw her bruises, and ah…I gave Mark some bruises of his own.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to her.”

  Tyson nodded. “She’s been doing good these last few years, but she’s still recovering, I think. That’s why she’s been single all these years. She’s not ready for anything stable, Preston, especially since the man who was supposed to love and protect her ended up beating her instead.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt your sister, Tyson. I just want to get to know her.”

  “What my sister needs is a friend. Not someone who’s trying to jump into bed with her.”

  “That’s not my goal.”

  “So, what do you want?”

  “I want to get to know her. I want to know why I feel so strongly for her when she’s practically a stranger to me.”

  Tyson grinned. “Funny you say that. I felt the same way when I met Gabrielle. I instantly felt compelled to be the man to take care of her. Like we were meant to be.”

  “Glad your story had a happy ending.”

  “Yeah. Not so sure about yours. Tamera doesn’t want marriage, a family – none of that.”

  “Is that what she told you?”

  “That’s what she tells everybody,” Tyson said.

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t know. Going through a traumatic experience like spousal abuse may have taken its toll on her.”

  “Then it looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

  “Yeah, you do. And I’m warning you…do not hurt my sister, man.”

  “Coming from one respectful, professional businessman to another—I give you my word. I will never hurt your sister.”

  “Good. That’s all I need to know.”

  Chapter 12

  Tamera got up at 7:00 a.m., dismissed the alarm on her cell phone then showered. She ordered room service for breakfast – a glass of juice, a bowl of Cheerios and a banana. She should’ve ordered coffee. She didn’t sleep much last night. The fact that Preston was across the hallway and had admitted to liking her had all kind of thoughts running through her mind but it wasn’t her reason for losing sleep. Having an actual conversation with Preston brought back bad memories of Mark.

  She remembered the first time Mark hit her and how stunned she was – like a part of her mind told her it really didn’t happen while the other side was trying hard to reconcile what had happened. The sting of his large opened hand against the side of her face still lingered there. The abuse wasn’t something she could easily forget. It was something she quietly endured due to shame.

  She took a sip of juice. Just the act of thinking about it made her feel shameful for what had happened to her. How could he have hurt her so bad? A man who vowed to love her forever? Who promised to protect her and give her a good life?

  Tamera sighed heavily and brought a spoonful of Cheerios to her mouth. It was all she could eat…a few spoonfuls. She didn’t have an appetite for much else. How was she going to write a legitimate review on a food festival when she couldn’t eat?

  Come on. Pull yourself together, Tamera.

  Still sitting at the two-chair, round table in her room, she closed her eyes and paced her breathing in an attempt to calm herself. She couldn’t let Mark and memories of him ruin her life and the relaxation she’d planned on having this weekend, and she wouldn’t.

  She stood up, stretched and stepped into a comfortable pair of black canvas flats. She would be doing a lot of walking this morning at the festival.

  * * *

  Now that he had a better understanding of her, Preston knew how to approach her. Tyson had informed him she’d been married to a man who abused her. Said what Tamera needed was a friend. He intended to be just that.

  He’d gotten up early too, ordered room service and waited in his car for the moment Tamera came out of the lobby entrance. When he saw her, a smile instantly came to his face. She was dressed cute today – wore some khaki capris and a coral blouse. She had on a pair of shades, was carrying a straw hat in her hand and a leather bag swung from her shoulder. Probably the camera bag, he assumed.

  When she got inside of her car, he started the engine to his rental and followed her out of the parking lot, but not too close. He didn’t want her to see him just yet. After the short drive to the festival that was sure to be jam-packed on a Saturday, he parked where he could see her get out of the car. She looped the camera around her neck and placed the leather bag under the trunk, closing it. Back to the opened driver side door, she leaned in, reached for a small tote bag and the straw hat then locked the doors. Placing the hat on her head, she began walking towards the crowd.

  Preston got out of the car taking only his cell phone with him. He didn’t need much. No notebook. No fancy camera. He’d use the camera on his cell phone to take pictures. Besides, from his way of thinking, pictures were important, but not as important as the actual content – the meat of a story. You could have all the pictures in the world, but without good content, no one would read your article.

  Moving swiftly through the crowd now to keep up with Tamera, he saw her stop at a booth. He stopped walking to stand there and watch her. Looked like she was trying the fried shrimp – probably comparing it to the shrimp she had last night since she said it was spicy. This shrimp must’ve been more to her liking because she took a picture of it and snapped a picture of the booth to get the name of the restaurant. Then she finished the small serving before moving along.

  Preston walked up to the tent she’d just left from and said, “I’ll have what that woman just had.”

  “Oh, the Cajun-fried shrimp,” the server said. He looked like a high school student.

  “Yes.”

  Preston paid for it then said, “Thanks.” With keen eyes, he peered down the aisle through the crowd until he saw Tamera. Good thing she was wearing a bright-colored shirt today. He headed in her direction, eating Cajun shrimp along the way. It could’ve used more of a kick like the shrimp he’d eaten last night, but who needed all the extra spices and subsequent heartburn so early in the morning?

  Popping another shrimp in his mouth, he watched Tamera stop at another tent – one serving fresh-squeezed lemonade. He watched her order, take a sip then smile. Must’ve been some good lemonade. She took another picture and after finishing the small cup of lemonade, she scribbled a note.

  Again, he waited until she moved along before he walked up and ordered a cup of lemonade. Tasting it, he frowned. One thing he noticed right away was how sweet it was. Places like this usually used real cane sugar, and he was more of an artificial sweetener kind of guy. He couldn’t finish it, tossed the remainder in the trash and looked for the coral blouse again. The moment he saw her, he witnessed a man approach her. He saw her frown.

  Tamera looked at the man, studying him, trying to determine if she knew him, or if his don’t-I-know-you-from-somewhere statement was just a pickup line.

  Probably.

  He looked like an old playa, using pickup lines from the nineties.

  “No. Sorry,” Tamera said, walking away.

  “Wait, wait, wait, let me talk to you for a minute,” the man said, walking quickly to catch up to her. “Why are you so in a hurry on this beautiful day?”

  To get away from your raggedy behind. “I’m sorry. I’m busy,” Tamera said, playing nice.

  “Let me holla at you for a minute, baby,” the man said and touched her arm.

  That’s when she freaked. �
��Don’t touch me,” she snapped. “I said, I didn’t know you.”

  Like a thick cloud providing relief from the harsh rays of sun, Preston put his arms around Tamera and asked, “Is everything okay, sweetheart?” He looked at her before focusing an angry glare at the man who was bothering her.

  “My bad, brother,” the guy said, then took off.

  “Oh my gosh, Preston, what are you doing here?”

  “You knew I would be here today. Why are you acting surprised to see me?”

  “I—”

  “Just thank me for rescuing you,” he told her.

  She beamed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You can take your arm from around me now.”

  He grinned. “Sure?”

  “Positive,” she said, though his arm around her didn’t bother her as much as she thought it might.

  Preston lowered his arm and kept in stride walking beside her.

  Tamera glanced over at him. He had on those sunglasses again and wore a pullover shirt with a pair of jean shorts. “How long have you been out here?” she asked him.

  His cheeks dimpled. “Just as long as you.”

  “Unbelievable. You followed me here, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “You owe me.”

  “I owe you what?” she asked with a hand on her hip.

  “Time. You stood me up last night.”

  “I told you I was tired.”

  “Excuses, excuses.”

  She glanced at him again and a smile came to her lips.

  “We’ll make up for that time right now,” he said.