The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns

by Ryan, Shari J.

  “Don’t be rude, Austin,” she responds. “It’s a privilege to be out with us ladies.”

  “Right. Well, thank you for thinking of me. I’ve never been invited anywhere by the ‘funnest gals’ in town,” I say with a grin.

  In the last minute, three patients have walked in. I see a whole lot of blood pouring out of a leg, another person covering their eye, and the third person coughing up a storm. “Someone grab a mask for him. I’ll handle the blood,” I tell Clara.

  “They went a little overboard this year, don’t you think?” I ask the ladies as we walk under the twenty-foot banner filled with the words, “Blytheville Ice Cream Festival.”

  “It’s been this way for years, Austin. This festival isn’t just for kids anymore. You’ve been missing out for how many years now?” Daisy asks.

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s been a while. I just don’t remember it being anything like this,” I tell them. I’ve avoided this festival for years because the last time I came here, I was with Pop, and each year since then, a few beers and TV has sounded like a better way to spend my night.

  Daisy grabs a flyer from a stand as we walk by, and she studies it for a moment before I see excitement lighting up her eyes. “There are over fifty different vendors with unique flavors.”

  “Now you’re talking. Where’s the ticket booth?” I ask.

  “Right over there,” Clara says, placing her hand on my back and pointing off to the corner. Clara doesn’t typically make physical contact with me, not that it means anything, but she’s been careful about ever getting too close. It’s been obvious to the point where I’ve noticed awkwardness here and there. Giving her a hug last week was not the norm for us, but I knew she needed it. Maybe it’s just because we’re outside of work.

  I head over to the ticket booth and purchase three all-inclusive tickets for us. When I turn back around, I find the two of them are studying the map layout. “You ladies are serious about this, huh? You got a game plan goin’ on? Let’s just start at the beginning and work our way around,” I tell them.

  “Oh, but look! Bacon and Caramel. Oh my gosh, I need that,” Daisy says, running off to one of the booths in the middle of the aisle we’re in. So much for starting at the beginning.

  Since there are so many vendors, the lines aren’t so bad, thankfully. We get our small, shot-sized cup of ice cream to try, and I instantly consider purchasing caramel instead of maple syrup next time I decide to make a plate of bacon. Way better combination.

  “This is gross,” I hear from behind us.

  “How can anything with bacon and caramel be gross? Don’t you like maple syrup with your breakfast?” I question, turning around, feeling the need to defend the poor bacon.

  I knew it. Scarlett and Brendan. “Oh my God,” Scarlett says, turning her back toward me.

  “I have that effect on people. Don’t worry,” I tell Brendan.

  “Scarlett, quit being rude,” Brendan tells her.

  “Oh goodness. How are you feeling Scarlett?” Daisy asks.

  “I’m good,” Scarlett says, still keeping her back toward us.

  Brendan grabs her good hand and spins her around. “Knock it off,” he tells her.

  Even under the dim, orange glowing lights, I can see her face is red. “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “No,” Brendan says. “Hey, I have an idea, why don’t you two go talk over there. Then maybe Scarlett can quit feeling like a moron after remembering some of the lovely things she said to you after surgery.” Oh, that’s what this is all about. That’s awesome.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Scarlett says.

  “Sure it is,” I tell her. “Let’s go see what that honey and gravy ice cream is all about.” She snarls, but I grab her hand and take her away from the others. Someone is clapping furiously behind me, and for some reason, I don’t think it’s either of the girls, which makes me laugh a little.

  Scarlett doesn’t say a word until we’re way out of earshot of the others. “I don’t know what I said to you last week, but I know it was completely out of line and out of my control. I’ve had bits and pieces of memories and none of them are good,” she explains, speaking almost faster than I can keep up with.

  “First,” I start with, giving her a smile to comfort her. “How is the wrist?”

  “It’s feeling much better now,” she says.

  “Were you able to start work last week?”

  “A couple of days later than expected, but yes.” She sweeps her hair off her forehead. “Look, can I ask you to forget whatever I said to you after I woke up from surgery?”

  “You can ask,” I tell her.

  She cocks her head to the side. “Seriously, I’m wicked embarrassed by whatever else I said that I may not be recalling.”

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” I place my hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. “Honestly, I went home and looked in the mirror to ask myself if I was pretty. Men don’t get called pretty most of the time, so I was questioning things a bit.”

  “I called you ‘pretty?’” She asks, covering her mouth with a look of shock filling her eyes.

  “Only a few times.”

  Her gaze floats upward toward the starlit sky. “Oh my God.”

  “Did you know that my eyes are the color of that there moon,” I point to the sky.

  “No, no, no, no,” she groans.

  “Scarlett, it’s fine. You were adorable.” I immediately realize I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t be flirting with patients. Not that I hadn’t already crossed a line by giving her my number, but she didn’t call, which means she didn’t take the bait, and now I’m probably treading on thin ice.

  She breaks her stare away from the sky to look back at me. “Adorable? Please. I know I was rude to you the day before that, and it wasn’t necessary. My drama wasn’t your fault and shouldn’t have been your problem.”

  “I didn’t see it like that,” I tell her.

  “Well, thank you for helping me and taking care of my arm. I appreciate it, and I’m sorry for being inappropriate.” She turns around, to look for Brendan, I assume. I can see Brendan is having a good time laughing with Clara and Daisy, though, so decide to take my chances and try to buy myself a little more time with this mysterious, tightly wound-up woman.

  “I can take you back to Brendan if you want,” I offer. “Or—”

  “Sure, yeah, I’m going to head back over there,” she says.

  She’s not interested in me, and it’s best that way. It would just be another failed attempt at an almost relationship, so I need to brush it off. I put my hand on her back and walk toward the others. “Austin?” she says.

  “What’s up?”

  “You know how they say, drunk words are sober thoughts?” she asks.

  “I’ve heard that before, yeah.”

  “Do you think it’s the same thing when a person is drugged?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?” I’m not pushing this. I need to know what she’s thinking, especially being the caretaker in this situation.

  “I think it’s the same, but that would make things weird since I don’t know a thing about you.” She places her good hand in her back pocket and flips her hair over her shoulders. The scent of her hair blasts me in the face once again, and I might crumble in a minute. Man, chicks stopped having this effect on me years ago when I gave up the thought of finding someone who could put up with me and my life, so I’m not sure why I’m feeling like this around someone who is complicated and high maintenance like Scarlett.

  “The only thing you really focused on was me being pretty. You don’t have to know someone all that well to make comments like that. You’re good.” I’ll leave out the part where she asked me if I loved her and asked if I were her “luvah.”

  “You are kind of pretty,” she says with a smirk.

  “You are too. So there. We’re even, and both sober.” Scarlett looks over at me, and her smirk is still in place.
“Tell me, Austin, what are southern guys like? Is the whole gentleman thing I’ve heard about just a farce?”

  A farce. That’s funny. I don’t know how northern men are, but if they talk about us as being gentleman down here, I have to assume there’s a bunch of assholes up there. “Depends on the guy, I guess. I can’t really call myself a gentleman though … sorry.”

  “Whose standards determine that?” she asks.

  “Mine.”

  She holds her hands up as in defense. “Fair enough.” When she holds her casted hand up, I notice that her fingers are swollen.

  “Hey.” I take her hand gently and take a little closer at her fingers. “Come here for a second.” We move a few feet so we’re directly under one of the park lights. “How long have your fingers had a bluish tint to them?”

  “A day or two. I figured it was because of the constriction.”

  “You’re right, but the constriction should never cause your fingers to turn blue.” I carefully release her hand and jog over to Brendan, Daisy, and Clara. “Guys, I have to get Scarlett to the hospital. She has swelling and her fingers are turning blue. We have to get that cast off.”

  “Do you want me to come too?” Clara offers.

  “No, it’s okay, I’ve got it.”

  “I’ll come with you guys,” Brendan says.

  I give him a look and a shrug. “I can help her out if you’re okay with that?” I don’t want to make him uncomfortable since he obviously owns the role of Scarlett’s most trusted person, but I could go for a little one-on-one time with her right now, and there’s no sense in dragging everyone away from the ice cream festival. He might as well hang out with Clara and Daisy.

  “No problem,” Brendan says. “Let me give you my number so you can let me know what’s going on. I worry about her.”

  “Of course.” I take my phone out and start a new contact. “Go ahead.”

  Brendan gives me his number and I toss my phone back into my pocket. “I’ll keep you updated. I’m sure it’s just a matter of getting a new cast, and we can come right back. Daisy and Clara will keep you company.” I wink at the girls. “They’re always a good time.”

  “We’ll take good care of him,” Daisy says.

  Scarlett is still inspecting her fingers as I rejoin her. “This isn’t dangerous or anything is it?” she asks.

  “I’m sure everything is fine. It’s better to err on the side of caution, though.”

  “Yeah, I don’t seem to live that way most of the time,” she says.

  “Trust me, I wasn’t figuring that you do. In this case, though, you need to make an exception.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Scarlett

  My stupid heart has been doing flips in my chest since I saw Austin turn around at the festival. There’s something hot about a guy who prefers a plain t-shirt and a torn pair of jeans over expensive threads that never last more than a few washings. In Boston, you wear your income on your body most of the time, so it’s rare to find rugged looking guys in the city. I kind of have a thing for that look, so I’m not complaining about that part of this town. Actually, I’ve gone a few days without a negative thought about Blytheville. It’s way easier to get around than Boston. Besides the heat factor and our small living space, Brendan seems to love it, so things might just be okay here for a while.

  “Are you enjoying your new job?” Austin asks as we walk.

  “Yeah, I do kind of like it. Everyone is super friendly. It’s nice, and a pleasant change of pace for me.”

  “You seem different,” he tells me. “More relaxed, maybe.”

  “Well, in my defense, you did meet me under shitty circumstances.”

  “True.”

  “Can I say something rude?” I ask. I’ve been working on asking before spitting out my inappropriate thoughts. It seems to bode better for me here than my filterless ways.

  “Do people actually agree to this kind of question?” he asks with a snicker.

  “Not usually. I typically just say what I’m thinking without asking permission.”

  “You can say what you’re thinking with me. I won’t judge.” He looks over at me and huffs with a nod that says he thinks I’m being funny and not serious. “You crack me up.”

  It hasn’t been often that people have told me I crack them up. In any case, I don’t think he’s laughing with me. “You don’t strike me as the nurse type of guy. If I saw you in your casual clothes and didn’t know where you worked, I’d think you might enjoy an outdoorsy kind of job.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily call that rude, but maybe stereotypical,” he says, deepening his voice at the trailing end of his statement. “However, since I grew up on a farm and still tend a farm after work hours, I think you hit the nail on the head.”

  “How the hell do you have time for all that?” I ask him. I could hardly manage an eight-hour shift then go out and have a few drinks when I was at home. I can’t imagine going home to more work.

  “I do what I love. Simple.”

  “You love taking care of people.”

  “I do,” he says.

  “Hmm. That’s nice of you.”

  “I try.”

  We walk through the parking lot of the hospital and weave through the scattered cars until we reach the sliding emergency doors. “How old are you?” I ask him.

  “Thirty.”

  “You hit the hill, huh?”

  “Hey now, watch it, missy. Just because you’re only twenty-nine doesn’t mean you’re far behind me.” I’d ask how he knew my age, but he’s had his hands on my files. I’m sure he knows way more about me than I know about him.

  “What’s going on, Austin?” the receptionist asks. She’s a bit older than most of the staff I’ve seen here but seems as nice as everyone else.

  “How long is the wait, Mary?” Austin asks her.

  “What do you need?” Mary asks.

  “This is Scarlett. She was treated here for a broken wrist last week, but she has some swelling under her cast and her fingers are discolored.”

  “Radiology is open, and Dr. Lane is finishing up his shift right now. Do you want me to alert them?”

  “Please,” he tells her.

  “You can take her down to room eight. Go around the back, though.”

  “Thank you,” he tells her.

  We get settled in the room, and Austin rolls the sleeve of my country-style, red-and-black-plaid shirt up above my elbow. “Sit down on the bed,” he tells me with a look of concern pooling within his dreamy eyes.

  I hop up and squiggle back so I’m comfortable. Austin pulls up a rolling stool and sits down in front of my dangling legs. He lifts my hand and runs his fingers down the length of my fingers. His touch sends shivers up my spine. “Can you feel my touch?”

  I can feel everything. “Yeah,” I say, sounding more breathless than intended.

  “Do your fingers feel cold?”

  “No, just sensitive.”

  “Your fingertips are cold to the touch,” he says.

  “Is that bad?”

  He squeezes my fingers gently, then closes his hands over them. “We gotta warm them up.” Oh, you are.

  “I don’t have to get undressed again, do I?” I ask him.

  “Not unless you want to,” he says with a quick wink.

  “Real professional,” I fire back. I know he’s been trying to be as professional as possible around me, especially at the hospital, but I can play too.

  He gasps softly and looks around, seeming worried as if he’d be in trouble if someone just heard that exchange. “I’m sorry. It was a joke,” he says, placing his hand on his chest. “Honest.”

  “I’m fucking with you,” I tell him.

  His lips form into the shape of an O. “Wow, here I am trying to care for you, and you’re screwin’ with me?” His voice is soft, probably so no one hears the way he’s speaking to me, which makes me laugh.

  “I won’t get you fired.”

  “Thank you,” h
e says.

  “Today.”

  “Girl, you are trouble, looking for trouble.”

  I raise a brow and pinch my lips to the side for a short second. “Well, it looks like I might have found it.”

  “Feelin’ better now?” Austin asks me. I’m scraping at a speck of the cast material that stuck to my arm, and he’s leaning against the doorway of the room with his feet crossed, arms folded over his chest.

  “I do. Thank you for noticing that there was a problem. I wouldn’t have thought much of it.”

  “You’re lucky you ran into me tonight,” he says. I think I can agree with that for more than just medical reasons.

  “Am I?” I ask with a quirky grin.

  “I ain’t answering that for you. Let’s get you back to the festival before it’s over.”

  I look down at my watch, noting it’s nine. I’ve learned that everything in this town shuts down early most of the time, so I don’t know how late the festival runs. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already over. “Does everything close down at ten around here or what?”

  “No, the festival will go through midnight, but the shops close at ten.”

  “I’m trying to get used to everything closing down early around here. Most places are open all night in Boston.”

  “I heard that’s why you were kicked out of Massachusetts,” He snickers with just his breath, testing the waters to see if his joke is funny or too soon to comment on. Sounds like Brendan told him why I’m really in South Carolina.

  “My clocks are all off by a few minutes. It’s not my fault,” I explain.

  “Mmhmm. I’m calling your bluff, Miss Bruiser.”

  “Why are you so worried about getting me back to the festival in time if it’s still open for a few more hours?” I ask him, curious to hear his intentions.

  We start walking down the hall toward the front lobby as I wait for a response. It takes him a minute, though. Maybe he didn’t think I’d ask, or maybe he didn’t know what time it was, but I’m guessing he did.

  “I was going to let you lead the way to see how well you were doing with getting around town,” he finally says.