Mr. Tall, Dark & Unavailable

By Tina Martin

Falling in love with him was easy. Staying in love? Well, that's proving to be a challenge…

 

When my husband invited me to an evening gala, I was elated. We hadn't spent time together in ages. Finally, I thought he heard my complaints. But when he was chosen to lead the Charlotte chapter of the Mr. Black Organization at this event, my heart sank. Don't get me wrong…I was excited he'd get to showcase Black History and further the movement of 'our' stories. But two years into this marriage, I'm struggling. I didn't marry to be lonely, but Mr. Caspian Yearwood is always unavailable where I am concerned. What's a woman to do to get her man's attention?

 

*In the Baes of Juneteenth multi-author series, we invite you to journey to different cities to celebrate Juneteenth with the men of Mr. Black, an organization honoring Black love, Black culture, and Black history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tina Martin
• Release date: Jun 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223916147

Tina Martin

TINA MARTIN is the author of over 80 romance, romantic suspense and women’s fiction titles and has been writing full-time since 2013. Readers praise Tina for her strong heroes, sweet heroines and beautifully crafted stories. When she’s not writing, Tina enjoys watching movies, traveling, cooking and spending time with her family. For more information, visit www.tinamartin.net

Book preview

Playlist

Beyoncé – Black Parade

Summer Walker – Karma

Faith Evans & Carl Thomas – Can’t Believe

Mary J. Blige – Be Without You

Rihanna – Take a Bow

Beyoncé – Upgrade You

Usher – Got it Bad

Ginuwine – Stingy

Musiq Soulchild – So Beautiful

Mr. Tall, Dark & Unavailable

Chapter 1

Mr. Caspian Yearwood is a man of many words, but also a man of decisive action. He’s a man of faith with the deeds to follow. We all know we can’t have one without the other, now can we? Y’all gon’ get me to preaching up in here! Can I get a amen?

Amen! the guests echo, followed by a brief round of laughter in this posh venue.

While they laugh it up, I glance over at my husband who’s leaned back in his chair with his right hand wrapped around the rim of a glass of Bourbon. He’s hanging on to every word Mr. Huntington says. Every. Single. Word. I’m starting to wonder what exactly is going on here. This was supposed to be an elegant dinner for two. For us. Caspian sold it to me as a ‘date night’. That’s the only reason I got dressed. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come out tonight. I wanted to be home and comfortable on my five-thousand-dollar bed, watching Family Feud and listening to the contestants’ wildly inaccurate answers to those silly surveys. Instead, my toes are squished into these pretty stilettos that I should’ve left in the closet. And this tight, black dress I chose to wear in hopes of impressing Caspian, is making my back itch.

This whole situation has my neck tense, like I slept wrong last night. I rotate my head slightly and rub my neck, but the motion doesn’t minimize the tension. It’s got me in a chokehold because I don’t want to be here after being lied to. Caspian knew I’d jump at a chance to go on a date with him because he’s so busy with all of his other many endeavors that time for me is a rarity. Tonight’s no different. This isn’t a date. Isn’t our time. I’m sitting here listening to this potbelly, wannabe pastor sing my husband’s praises from here to the motherland. Yeah, Caspian definitely played me.

Mr. Huntington continues speaking with great pride and enthusiasm saying, "Not only did Mr. Yearwood start his own company from the ground up, but he grew and transformed it into a successful multi-million-dollar venture—Yearwood Enterprises—headquartered right here in Ballantyne—a neighborhood which happens to be among the most affluent parts of this great city of Charlotte, North Carolina. And let’s talk about this man’s giving spirit. Mr. Yearwood and his affiliates have donated to many black organizations and non-profits, including scholarship programs, initiatives for at-risk youth, and mental health programs that we know are a great need in the black community. And one of Mr. Yearwood’s greatest passions is shining a spotlight on black history. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to pass the buck and welcome as your new Mr. Black of this great organization for the Charlotte Region, Mr. Caspian Yearwood."

I turn to my husband and plaster a smile on my face just to keep up appearances. I watch him smile, then he stands, buttons his suit jacket and heads toward the stage. I almost forgot to applaud, but honestly, I’m stunned. No, I’m paralyzed. I’m just as surprised as everyone else is. Caspian didn’t tell me a thing about accepting this new Mr. Black position – like he has time for yet another obligation to add to his already overflowing, overcrowded, exhaustive schedule. What’s up with all this extra work, anyway? It makes me feel like he’s missing something – like he’s unfulfilled. Like I’m not able to fill the void that has him looking for more causes – more people to save. What else does he need to accomplish? He’s done everything, and it’s still not enough. Nothing is ever enough.

And then there’s the fact that he didn’t tell me about it. He lied, actually, coming up with this cockamamie story about taking me to dinner. I should’ve known that was a lie when it came out of his mouth. We hadn’t had dinner together—just the two of us—in a year, and we’ve only been married for three. Now, I’m hit with this? This what we gon’ do?

I’m stewing mad. I’m, roll-up-my sleeves, take-my-earrings-off, mad. I pull a small fan out of my purse, unfold it and try to prevent myself from spontaneously combusting. Despite my efforts, I’m still hot and flushed. My back is still itching because of this dress, and my toes are going numb. All this to be cute for him, and this ain’t even a date...

I want to run up there on that stage and knock the daylights out of Caspian for doing this to me. Like echoes, I hear all the noise in my head of what my friends always told me – that Caspian married me because he wanted a trophy – a radiant woman on his arms so he can parade me around at events to show other men how it’s done. How to have it all and be a successful black man.

The problem with that is, I don’t want to be nobody’s trophy. I want to be a wife, and I would like to have a husband who respects me enough to tell me about important events and causes that he’s signed up for before some ridiculously long announcement is made to the public about it. As his wife, is that not my right? I want to discuss these types of issues before he unilaterally makes a decision that ultimately ends up affecting us both. Is that too much to ask?

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a needy woman by any means, but when you’re being neglected in your marriage, you can’t help but feel needy and—well—desperate for love, attention and affection.

I love Caspian.

I want him.

Need him.

He’s a freakin’ dream.

Everything about him far surpasses every physical quality I wanted in a man. But what good is it to have all that man and not be able to enjoy him? I’m constantly stuck between I want to jump his bones and he gets on my nerves.

Once upon a time, we were living happily ever after. Now, we’re a cliffhanger, and no one knows which way this thing is going to go.

Caspian stands before the podium, just as confident as he is sexy. He’s one of the most erudite men I know. His well-moisturized skin is the color of a well-done steak, and yes, he looks good enough to eat. He gives a whole new meaning to tall, dark and handsome because – well, frankly, those words are very much vague in describing my husband. Standing six-foot-five, he’s powerfully built with brilliant black eyes, a regal, straight nose, and a black beard that frames a pair of full, luscious lips. All of these features work together to make him one mesmerizing, impressive man.

He’s so fine, it’s polarizing. True story—when I first met Cas, I felt a burning sensation in my chest as I tried to figure out how a man could be so appealing. I almost had to seek medical attention. You know the man is all that and a few bags of chips when he gives you instant acid reflux and makes you question how people could look so flawless. Now, he’s mine, which vexes me continuously because I know the muscular physique that hides beneath that five-thousand-dollar suit he’s wearing. Yet, I can’t touch it. Can’t kiss it. Can’t cuff it like Beyoncé said. I can’t run my fingertips across his solid abs and play them like a guitar. Well, maybe I could if I can get his secretary to block out some time for me on his calendar.

I digress.

It’s his day, apparently, as he takes on a new leadership role at the Mr. Black Organization. I must be the ever-so-perfect wife and pay keen attention to whatever it is he’s about to say because people are watching me with more attentiveness than they’re watching him. So, ignoring the cruise-ship-sized chip on my shoulder, I sit here with fine posture, cross my legs and hold my head high with a faux smile I plastered on my face, listening to my black king – the great Mr. Caspian Yearwood – speak with fluency and intelligence:

"Eight years ago, my father, Louis Yearwood, held this esteemed position, and so it gives me great honor to be standing here before you all today as the new Mr. Black representative for Charlotte!"

The crowd applauds, as do I, and enthusiastically so. Again, I’m being watched, especially by his judgmental father, who’s sitting directly across from me. This has his name written all over it. He’s always pushing Caspian to do something.

Also at our table are The Coles – Walter and Olive – friends of the family who watched Caspian grow up. Sitting beside Louis is his personal assistant, Monique Sellars. Why a man with no job and nothing going for himself business-wise needs a personal assistant is beyond me, but Monique is right there. She’s always...there. And she looks at him like she’s infatuated.

Caspian continues, "I want you all to know that I do not take this position lightly. When I first heard about the Mr. Black Organization, I was intrigued. Their motto, or shall