Taming Him

by Kennedy Fox

  “Howdy,” the blond says, looking up at her with bright eyes.

  “So last night was fun,” she tells him, her voice all high-pitched and annoying. The guy nods in agreement as his eyes scan up and down her body. “Call me if you want to do it again.” She reaches into her back pocket to grab a piece of paper and hands it over to him.

  The guy takes it and unfolds it. “Sure thing, darlin’.” His accent is even more noticeable when he says that. Damn, it’s kinda hot too. Before the woman walks off, he winks at her with a smile that can only mean he’ll be calling her soon for another hookup.

  The dark-haired guy is smirking and shaking his head.

  “Nice.” I mutter my annoyance at the fact that he was literally just hitting on me, and five seconds later he’s drooling over this chick.

  Better yet, why do I care?

  “What’s that?” the blond guy asks, startling me when he raises his voice loud enough for me to hear. “You jealous already? I didn’t even sleep with that one…” He smirks, then winks as if that’s his seductive trademark.

  “Wow, I’m shocked by your willpower. Better catch her and remedy that then.” I hold back rolling my eyes, which is my own trademark when I’m annoyed.

  “Nah. I’m not impressed with the local cuisine. I’d rather try something…new and interesting. Any suggestions?” He arches a brow, giving me every opportunity to mock him.

  Natalie’s about to burst a vein with how hard she’s trying to hold back her laughter.

  Swallowing, I hold my stance and play his little game. “I’d suggest you stick to what you know, so you don’t get bitten. Or worse.”

  “Damn,” the dark-haired guy blurts. “She’s my new favorite person.” He chuckles, and the blond elbow jabs him. “She shot you down and put you in your place. You'd better marry her, or I will.”

  I snort. “I’m leaving now.” I stand, taking my plate, and push in my chair.

  “Okay, but don’t forget we have a couple’s massage at ten!” Natalie shouts. “Unless you’d prefer Mr. Southern ‘n Dirty accompany you?”

  I wave a hand up in the air and salute with my middle finger.

  Chapter Five

  ALEX

  The sun feels like it’s burning my skin straight through the window as I roll over in bed. Last night, we stumbled back to our suite, and since we drank and sang karaoke all night, I forgot to close the curtains—hell, I’m lucky I even made it to the bed at that point.

  Just as I sit up, my head pounds hard and loud like the beat of the music at the club. Drinking so early after we traveled all day was a bad decision on my part, but Dylan was all for it, as usual. We aren’t letting any part of this vacation go to waste.

  I stand and walk to the bathroom only to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  You look like shit, I think to myself, needing to clear my throat that’s sore from all my loud singing. Favorite song of the night: “All My Exes Live in Texas.” I chuckle because they do.

  The world’s spinning, and I place my hand against the wall to steady myself before I face-plant on the floor. I stumble to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water and realize I don’t see Dylan anywhere in the room. Opening the door that leads to the sitting area, I find him sleeping on the couch with his legs and arms hanging off the side. He’s too tall for that small couch, and it makes me laugh, even though it hurts my head when I do. He’s trying so hard to be comfortable, it’s comical. We might be a hungover shitshow, but we showed Florida how to really party—Texan style.

  Last night, after we bought some swim trunks and flip-flops, we changed clothes, grabbed a quick dinner, then went down to the cabana bar by the water where country music was blasting loud and proud. Five shots of tequila and a few beers later, we were dancing and singing, and now today I’m paying for it.

  Just as my stomach growls, Dylan rolls over off the couch and lands flat on his ass. He rubs his hand over his face, and I can tell he feels as bad as I do.

  “Ugh,” he moans, trying to get up but fails miserably. Walking over to him, I hold out my hand to pull him off the floor. As he stands in front of me, I see bright red lip prints all over his face.

  “Last night must’ve been good.” I chuckle, plopping down on the couch and leaning my head back.

  Dylan looks at me confused before walking to the bathroom. Once he flicks on the lights, I hear him mutter, “What the hell?” I know he’s referring to the lipstick on his face and neck. “All that and I slept on that damn miniature couch alone!”

  My stomach growls again, and I know the only way to fix this hangover is to eat something.

  “I’m hungry,” I tell him as I force myself to stand and go to my suitcase. I slip on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

  “Me too,” Dylan agrees.

  Just as I walk toward the door and slip on my flip-flops, Dylan falls in line behind me. He’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday but doesn’t seem to care.

  We take the elevator to the ground level, walk through the lobby, and head straight to the room where the continental breakfast is served. The smell of sausage and bacon fills the room, and my mouth instantly waters. Not wasting any time, Dylan and I stack food on our plates like we always do, yet with the selection in front of us, we keep adding as if we haven’t eaten in a week. Pancakes, sausage, bacon, fruit—hell, we got a little of everything.

  Before we sit, I notice a pretty blonde at the buffet. As soon as I make eye contact with her, she looks the other way, pretending as if I don’t exist. Dylan and I end up sitting a few tables away from where she and her friends are.

  “You should go talk to her. You’re eyeing her more than the eggs on your plate,” Dylan encourages with a smirk.

  “Nah,” I say, pouring syrup over my pancakes and cutting into them.

  “Dare you,” he whispers with a mouthful of food.

  Now there’s one thing a person shouldn’t ever do, and that’s dare a Bishop.

  I eye him, knowing there’s no going back on it now.

  “Unless you’re chicken,” he teases before he begins clucking at me.

  After I finish chewing my food, I try to listen to their conversation because if it sounds important, I’ll have to take a rain check. Dare or not, Mama always taught us boys not to interrupt important discussions. Once I realize her friend is chatting about a celebrity, and everyone at the table looks tuned out of the conversation, I take it as my cue to walk over.

  Standing behind her, I catch the slight hint of her strawberry-scented shampoo. Her friend peers up at me and smiles, and I throw out some cheesy pickup line that always works when hitting on girls in trashy bars.

  She looks over at Dylan then back at me, and that’s when I see a hint of blush hit her cheeks. I’m talking loud enough so he can hear our conversation, and I quickly look over my shoulder at him. All he does is shake his head and laugh.

  Once I’m completely rejected by her, I pretend to be hurt and walk back over to Dylan who’s laughing so loud other people in the dining area are staring at us.

  “Damn. She’s a savage. I like her,” he says with a shit-eating grin. Moments later, I see Miranda or Mazie—whatever her name is—bounce up to our table with a devilish look in her eye. I take full advantage knowing the blonde girl is watching even though she rejected me just moments ago.

  Miranda or Mazie hands me a piece of paper, and once I see it’s her phone number, I look up and wink, knowing I have no intentions of actually calling her. But I’m a gentleman after all, so of course, I smile in return. We had a good time last night at the bar drinking and dancing, but that’s as far as things will go.

  I watch her walk away, and when I look up, I see the blonde girl glaring in my direction. The opportunity to taunt her is too good to pass up when I see her muttering under her breath.

  Just as I take a huge bite of my pancakes, the redhead that was sitting with the blonde girl who just rejected me walks over to our table with a beaming smile on her face.<
br />
  “Hey, I’m Natalie, and this is my boyfriend, Adam,” she says, waving her hand to the guy standing next to her. “And that girl at my table you were talking to is my friend River.”

  Smiling, I quickly swallow down the rest of my food. “Nice to meet y’all. This is Dylan, and I’m Alex.”

  “River likes to play hard to get, but she’s totally single.” She flashes a wink. “Just in case you were wondering,” she adds, then continues, “and she’d probably murder me if she knew I told you that.”

  Now I’m the one laughing. “Probably, but I can keep a secret.”

  “Okay, good. Thanks.” She grins. “Well, I hope we’ll see you around the resort.”

  “I’m sure you will. We’re here for two weeks,” I add, giving her a smile.

  “Us too!” Natalie squeals. “Wait, are you single?” She furrows her brows at me. “Want to make sure there isn’t a wife, girlfriend, or fiancée waiting for you at home.”

  Dylan snorts. “Ma’am, his middle name is single.”

  I glance at Dylan, but Natalie doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Well, that’s great news.” Her eyes light up, and I can tell she’s already trying to play matchmaker. It’s not the first time I’ve seen that look on a woman's face, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

  “Babe, we gotta go. The boat leaves in twenty minutes,” Adam reminds her.

  She nods at him with a smile then looks back at me. “We’ll totally see you around.”

  Once she walks away, Dylan scoffs. “Seriously? I swear, it’s so easy for you. She’s already trying to hook you up. What a nice friend.” He grins.

  I continue to stuff my face. “Basically, but she’s just trying to play matchmaker. I already know what type she is—overly flirty and sweet, but a loyal friend. And I sincerely appreciate her giving me the scoop on her pretty friend. The info might come in handy.”

  After Dylan rolls his eyes then basically licks his plate clean, he sits back in his chair and pats his stomach. “Might need a wheelbarrow to get me out of here.”

  “Wasn’t like Mama’s cooking, but it hit the spot,” I admit, overly full too. Dylan and I finish our juice before we stand and stretch. Thankfully my head stopped pounding, and I feel like a new man after eating.

  “Whatcha wanna do today?” Dylan asks just as a man with a stack of bright yellow flyers walks through the hotel lobby and hands us both one.

  “Stand up paddleboarding, windsurfing, jet skis, kayaks, snorkeling, and an all-day pass is only $149. But wait, for just $59.99 more, we can add a sunset cruise with a romantic dinner.”

  “You’ve got the creepy infomercial voice down,” I tell him with a chuckle. “I saw some people on those board things yesterday. It looked like fun.”

  “Yeah and the weather outside is perfect. We should do it. The rental place is right around the corner.” Dylan folds the paper and shoves it into his pocket.

  “Let’s get ready and head over there.”

  After we go to our room and change into swim clothes, we walk down to the water sports shop, just like the flyer says. Before we leave the hotel lobby, I glance around for River but don’t see her anywhere. That woman is officially on my radar. Her smart mouth and the way she responds to me is intriguing, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was curious. After I shake the image of her round ass walking away from breakfast this morning, I realize Dylan is talking to me.

  “What do you want to do first?” he repeats himself, annoyed.

  “Let’s start at the beginning of the list and work our way down.”

  As we walk a few blocks, we see the big yellow signs pointing to the shop.

  “Hey, welcome!” a high-energy woman says from behind the counter when we enter.

  “Howdy, ma’am,” Dylan and I both respond in unison. It’s easy to blend in with the tourists in our board shorts and flip-flops, but the moment we open our mouths, people know we’re not from around these parts. Though we’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, Key West is a culture shock to us. It’s much different from the rolling hills, cactus, cows, and ranch. Reggae music plays in the background, and seashell wind chimes rattle in the breeze.

  “Have you ever been on a paddleboard before?” The cute woman walks around the counter as we look at the different boards and paddles lined up against the wall.

  “No, ma’am,” Dylan says, putting the Southern accent on real thick, and I’m pretty sure she’s about to melt in his palm.

  “Please don’t call me ma’am. I’m twenty-two years old, not eighty,” she tells him with her eyebrow raised. “I’m Trish.”

  “Nice to meet you, Trish,” Dylan says in a low raspy voice. Right about now, if he was wearing his cowboy hat, he would’ve tipped it.

  She blushes. “I have a class in ten minutes to teach beginners if you’d like to sign up,” she tells him with a flirty smile playing on her lips. “We’ll meet right over there by the flags.” She points to the bright blue flags out by the kayaks on the shore. The shop is walking distance from the water, which’ll make carrying everything convenient, considering the boards are so bulky.

  Dylan looks over his shoulder at me for approval, and I nod my head at him with a smirk.

  “Yeah, we’ll sign up.” He pulls out his credit card and pays.

  We happily walk to the beach with our boards and paddles while the sun beams down on us. A slight breeze wisps through the palm trees, and it feels as if we’re in actual paradise on Earth. I take off my shirt and throw it on the beach, trying to enjoy the warmth while I can. In a month, the temperatures in Texas will drop below forty before lunchtime, so warm days like this will be few and far between.

  “She was cute, don’t you think?” he asks, removing his T-shirt too.

  As soon as I get ready to open my mouth and give him some shit, Trish comes bopping toward us in a small bikini. After a quick explanation of how to mount the board, she starts giving extra attention to Dylan, allowing her eyes to linger a little too long on his chest and abs. I encourage him with every innuendo she throws his way.

  “Get on your knees.” She points at the board that sits on top of the sand. “This is a very important position especially when you need a break from…” She licks her lips, and Dylan waits on edge for her to finish the sentence.

  “…standing,” she says with a wink.

  Considering we’re the only two in the class, I’m starting to feel like the third wheel.

  “I agree,” he says with a smirk, eating up everything she’s saying. I’m trying really hard to keep my scoffs and eye rolls to myself.

  Once we’ve practiced a few times on the sand, she tells us to take our boards to the water, which is as calm as can be. We mount our boards how she taught us, and at first, we both look like baby cows learning to walk for the first time—all wobbly and trying not to fall on our asses.

  But before too long, we’re both standing and paddling around.

  After an hour, Trish lets us know the beginner’s lesson is over and releases us to the ocean alone but tells Dylan now that if he wants another lesson, she’d be happy to give him a one-on-one. Knowing Dylan, he’d be more than happy to take her up on that offer, but he wouldn’t leave me alone, so he tells her maybe another time.

  Without further hesitation, we head back into the water, but paddle farther than before. From a distance, the people lying out on the beach look tiny, and I know it’s time we turn around.

  “Race you back?” I ask Dylan, and he happily agrees to the challenge.

  “Loser buys drinks tonight,” Dylan calls out, confidently.

  “Deal.” We line our boards up and then count down before we both take off.

  We’re laughing and talking shit, and just as I start to pass Dylan, he takes his paddle and swings it at me, but misses and falls off his board.

  “Cheater!” I yell back at him, waiting for a rebuttal. I’m halfway to the shore when I turn around and realize he’s not on his board or floating in t
he water. Panic rushes through me, and I start yelling his name before diving from my board back toward him. I swim as hard as I can, searching for any sign of life when I finally find him sinking lower into the water.

  Seconds feel like minutes as I wrap my arm around Dylan’s chest and pull us up above the surface. I swim as fast as I can back to shore with one arm. Before I make it to the shore, a few people take notice and run into the water to help me carry him. I’m freaking the fuck out as Dylan lies on the sand on his back, blue in the face and completely unresponsive.

  Like an angel, River comes running from out of nowhere and immediately goes to work on Dylan. Without hesitation, she checks his pulse and begins chest compressions as hard and fast as she can. It all happens so quickly that I can barely think, and I feel so helpless as River directs her ear to his mouth to check if he’s breathing. Someone behind me cries out on the phone, and I realize the woman is on the phone with 911. I’m completely speechless watching River work like a pro. She tilts his head back and pushes air into his mouth twice before going back to chest compressions. A moment later, Dylan begins to move.

  “He’s breathing!” River exclaims, rolling him over onto his side, and I watch as he coughs up water. The crowd that gathered around us breathes a collective sigh of relief as Dylan blinks up at us.

  Just as he comes to, the paramedics arrive, and once River explains what happened, they begin the process of inserting an IV with fluids into his arm and ask Dylan how he’s feeling. He responds while they place an EKG monitor on his chest and clip a thing onto his finger.

  “What’s that for?” I ask, nodding my head at it

  “A pulse oximeter so we can see how much oxygen is in his blood and make sure he’s getting enough air,” one of the paramedics answer.

  “The normal range is between ninety-five to ninety-nine percent, so he’s a little low right now, but that’s common given the circumstances,” the other paramedic adds.

  More questions are asked as to what happened, how long was he underwater, how long it took for him to start breathing on his own, and River and I answer the best we can as they load him onto a gurney and recommend he see a doctor for follow-up tests.