Man Handler (Man Cave - A Standalone Collection Book 3)

by Shari J. Ryan

  I send him a text message:

  Me: Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I fell asleep. I’m on my way.

  I drop my phone into my back pocket and run out the door, through the hotel lobby and out the front entrance.

  I’m walking quickly, but not running. I’ve learned my lesson about running in heels around here.

  I make it to the end of the road and cross the street to the downtown area.

  There’s some weird honking sound coming from behind me, and it sounds like a bike or something. What the hell is going on? Without slowing down, I twist my head around to see what the noise about. “Watch out!” I hear. “Betsy Blue, stop right now!” Betsy Blu—

  * * *

  “Scarlett, darlin’ can you tell me how fingers I’m holding up?”

  “I’m sleeping,” I tell Austin. Why is he waking me up? It’s got to be the middle of the night.

  “Scarlett, I need you to open your eyes for me, sweetheart.”

  “No, I’m tired,” I tell him.

  “Someone grab some smelling salts. That might work,” I hear him say. Smelling salts? What the hell is he talking about?

  “Austin, stop.” I try to pull my sheets up, but they’re stuck. “Give me some sheets.”

  “We need to get a CT scan,” I hear from another voice.

  Who else is here with me and Austin? An unexpected horrible smell assaults my nose, forcing me to open my eyes ... or try to open them, anyway, but I’m blinded by a million lights, so I throw my hands over my face to shield my eyes from the glare. “What’s going on?”

  “Dim the lights,” I hear Austin say. “Is that better?”

  Again, I try to open my eyes, and it’s easier this time. Okay, I’m definitely not in my bed or Austin’s, so where am I? I try to sit up, but my head feels like it weighs a million pounds.

  “Darlin’,” Austin says, leaning over me with a smile. “You’re okay.”

  “Where am I?” I ask, sounding like a frog croaking.

  “You fell. Again,” Austin says.

  “No, I didn’t,” I argue. “I’m much better at walking in my heels here, now.” He must be teasing me.

  Austin comes in a little closer, which is good because everything else seems out of focus. “What’s the last thing you remember, sweetheart?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him. “I was taking a nap.”

  “Do you remember coming to meet me at the bar?”

  “No,” I tell him. “Shoot, I was supposed to.”

  “Scarlett, you were coming to the bar. You were knocked over, and you hit your head.”

  “No, Austin. That’s not what happened.” My senses are slowly coming back to me and I really want to know where I am. “Where am I?”

  “You just asked that,” Austin says. “You’re at the hospital. It seems you might have a slight concussion.”

  “No, I don’t,” I argue.

  “You are feisty down to the bone, aren’t ya?”

  “How did I fall, then?” He’s got to be playing games with me, but I do feel an ache in my head, and I don’t think he could be responsible for that.

  “Well, um—”

  “Spit it out, Austin.”

  “There she is,” he says with a smirk. “You were knocked over by Betsy Blue.”

  “What? Who the hell is Betsy Blue?”

  I hear some giggles over in the corner, and I try to push myself up on my elbows to see who else is in this room. Austin’s friends, Clara and Daisy, that’s who I hear. Is the hospital that slow with patients that they have time to be sitting in here laughing at me for entertainment? “Daisy found you on her way home,” Austin says. “She called me.”

  Dammit. I can’t be mad at her if she helped me. “Okay, well who is this Betsy Blue? I’ll go kick her ass.”

  Austin’s laughing now too, but this is not funny. “Austin, what the hell?”

  “You can’t kick her ass. It would be considered animal cruelty,” he says.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I look at Austin, able to focus on him now. He’s not in his scrubs. He’s in jeans and a tee because I was supposed to meet him at Dickles. I was on my way to Dickles when I heard someone honking a bike at me.

  “You got knocked over by a pig on the loose.”

  “You’re fucking with me? This isn’t funny,” I say, squinting my left eye at him.

  “Hush,” he says. “You’re being loud.”

  “I’m pissed,” I tell him. “Seriously, are you kidding me? A pig? Really? Why was there a pig on the loose? A pig? Really?”

  “She got out of her pen,” Austin says, simply. “She felt bad if that helps?”

  “She?”

  “Betsy Blue,” he says, as if I should be acquainted with her name by now.

  “Oh, did she feel bad after she knocked me over, and apparently almost killed me?” I say, snidely.

  “She gave you some kisses I guess.” I feel like gagging at the thought of a pig’s snout on my face. They roll in the freaking mud.

  “You know what … ” I say, gritting my teeth.

  “What, darlin’?”

  “I’m in the mood for bacon.”

  “Hey now,” Daisy says from the corner. “Don’t talk about Betsy Blue like that.”

  “She tripped me!” I shout.

  “Scarlett, how many women have you seen wearing stilettos around our town?” Austin asks me with a raised brow, chastising me for trying to look pretty for him. How rude can he be?

  “I. Like. My. Shoes.”

  “I do too, but walking down a cobblestone road in them isn’t the best idea. Haven’t we already been over this?”

  “Neither is having a loose pig in the middle of a town!”

  “Fair enough,” Austin gives in. “Anyway, we’re just going to do a quick check on your head, but I think you’re okay.”

  “Great.”

  “Does anything else hurt?” Austin asks.

  “My brain.”

  “Besides your brain?” he continues, speaking calmly, unaffected by my mood.

  “No.”

  “I suppose this didn’t help your decision about staying here or going back to Boston,” he says, looking down at his hands.

  “I’m going to go ahead and agree with that,” I tell him. I know that’s not what he wants to hear, but I’m at such a loss right now. I don’t know what to do and my heart is becoming more involved by the day.

  “Okay, I have to go check on something. I’ll be right back,” Austin says.

  He stands up from his stool and adjusts his pants like he always does when getting up. Watching him walk out the door just makes my heart feel heavier than it already did.

  Clara plops down into his seat and takes my hand in hers, which is unusual since we haven’t said a whole lot to each other. I’ve gotten the feeling in the past month that she might have feelings for Austin, so I didn’t want to tiptoe too closely to that subject with her.

  “Hey,” she says. I twist my head to look over at her. “That guy out there, he’s falling in love with you.”

  Her words hit me like a bucket of cold water, and I gasp in shock. Austin and I haven’t even touched upon that subject, seeing as we were arguing about labels just a few hours ago. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been talking about going back to Boston.

  “How do you know?” Did he tell her?

  “I’ve known Austin since we were ten years old,” she says, laughing. “He was such a geek back in the day.” She rolls her eyes. “He had to grow up quickly and man up, though. He’s stayed away from gettin’ his heart hurt, and I can’t say I blame him, but this is the first time I’ve seen him care about someone as much as he cares about you.”

  “Really?” I ask. I’m not sure I’m surprised, but now that she mentions it, he hasn’t mentioned a past relationship, just flings.

  “I have loved that boy since we were kids, but we would never work. I’m too passive for him. Anyway, you are like his perfect match, and anyone would be a f
ool not to notice. I want Austin to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.”

  “That’s really sweet of you,” I tell her. I appreciate her honesty more than I can express—it’s not a trait I’m familiar with.

  “Now, I’m not about to tell you to give up your career ambitions or nothing, but things don’t have to be black and white, you know?”

  “Do you ever get bored down here?” I ask her.

  She purses her lips and shakes her head. “No way. There’s always something going on. I’ve always loved living here, but I haven’t lived anywhere else, to be fair.” While I’m thinking that nothing she said has been helpful, there is one thing that might have given me an idea.

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  “You know, I know your friend left, so I just wanted to tell you that I do make for a pretty good friend if you’re in need.”

  Clara has the sweetest personality. It’s easy to see why she’s in healthcare. “I’d like that. Really. Thank you for being so kind.”

  “It’s my pleasure, sweetie.” She releases her hand from mine and taps me gently on the arm. “Take care of yourself. Austin will be back in a moment, I’m sure.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Austin

  I made Scarlett stay in the hospital overnight for observation. That went over well, and I’m pretty sure I learned a whole new set of obscenities I’ve never heard before. She’s asleep now and I’m trying my best to fall asleep in the guest chair next to her. The only thing that really stood out within her angered rage was the amount of times she told me I can’t tell her what to do. I know she likes to be in control of her life and doesn’t like being persuaded to do things, but she seemed to take her anger to a new level tonight. It makes me wonder if there’s something more going on in her life—something she hasn’t told me.

  The moment I find a comfortable position to sleep in, I hear Scarlett’s sheets rustle. “Hey,” she says. “Are you awake?”

  I clear my throat, trying to snap out of my haze. “Yeah, yeah, what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” she says

  “Don’t worry about it. I get it.” I don’t, but we can talk when she’s feeling better.

  “So, I’ve never told anyone this before … ” Oookay, I guess now is good too.

  “What is it?”

  “My dad was abusive,” she says.

  I didn’t mean to stand up and shove the guest chair out from beneath my ass, but it was my only instinctual reaction. “What? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, no, can you be calm? That’s what I need.”

  I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. I place my hands up to show I’ve calmed myself, and I sit back down. “I didn’t mean to react that way.”

  “It’s okay,” she’s keeping her voice down because the room is dark for the most part, and the hallway is still since it’s the middle of the night. “I should have said, he abused my mom.” I’ve felt connected to Scarlett on a variety of levels, but from the beginning, there has been a missing piece about her that I haven’t figured out. She’s so forward and determined that it seems like a form of protection rather than a way of life. “He pushed her around and hit her.”

  “That’s pretty shitty that you had to watch.”

  “I didn’t just watch. I hit him back, but it didn’t do much damage,” she says. Scarlett’s tiny. Not that I would ever question her ability to take care of herself, but there’s only so much she could probably do. Again, I wouldn’t go about testing her, though. “I told my mom to leave him, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. My grandparents all died when I was younger, and she didn’t have a leg to stand on. Basically, my parents sleep in different bedrooms now and only talk when necessary. I feel so sorry for her, but I’ve offered to help her a million times and she just sticks by his side.”

  “I heard everything you just said, but ... you hit him back?” I ask her, rewinding everything she just said to focus on that tidbit.

  “You know what’s weird? When you see someone you love hurting someone else you love, emotions sometimes cause you to react in unexpected ways.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I tell her.

  “I know you do,” she says. “Austin, I don’t know what I want to do with the rest of my life, but I know I don’t want to be under a push pin, stuck somewhere.”

  “I understand that more than I can explain,” I tell her. I know our stories are different, but I really do get where she’s coming from.

  “You do?” she asks.

  “I don’t plan on staying here forever. I never have. I was just waiting until I figured out what to do next.” In response to my confession, Scarlett releases the arm that’s holding her head up and falls back into her pillow with a smile.

  Now that I’m wide awake and staring at her, I’m left waiting for a resolution to this conversation, but Scarlett is the queen of half sentences and partial thoughts. “Okay, well nice talk,” I tell her.

  “I’m not done talking yet,” she says.

  “Oh, well, I just figured since you were closing your eyes and pulling the sheets up—”

  “Shh,” she says.

  I drag my chair across the floor, making way too much noise. “Are you playing more games with me, Miss Scarlett?”

  “What?” she asks.

  “Do you even know what you just said?” I ask her.

  “Yup.”

  I close my eyes and place my forehead on the armrest of her bed. “You’re making me crazy.”

  “You’re making me stay in a hospital bed all night,” she replies.

  “You got knocked down by a pig,” I remind her.

  “I got knocked down by a freaking pig, Austin. This town is dangerous.”

  “And you didn’t hit the thing back. I’m kind of proud of you.”

  “I was unconscious. Don’t think I won’t be on the prowl for Betsy Blue when I get out of here.”

  “Darlin’, I would not recommend beatin’ up a pig in this town,” I tell her.

  “Why not? Is it like the town mascot?”

  “No, but it’s a blue-ribbon-winning pig.”

  “What?” she asks with shock. “Who the hell rates pigs?”

  “This town,” I say as if the answer is obvious.

  “Well, she should have her ribbon revoked for breaking out of her pen and almost killing someone.”

  “That’s a little dramatic,” I tell her.

  “So is having a pig with a ribbon.”

  “Okay, fair enough,” I give in.

  “I’m going back to sleep in this comfy, cozy bed,” she grumbles.

  “Goodnight, darlin’.”

  “Goodnight, Austin.”

  * * *

  I wake up in a hospital room with an ache in my neck, and no one in the bed next to the chair I’m still sitting in. I shake my head around to snap out of my grogginess and look around the room. What the—what time is it? I look up at the clock, waiting for the numbers to clear up from my blurry vision, and I see that it’s eight.

  I get up and head down the hallway, wondering why no one would have woken me up, especially Scarlett. I move around the front desk and find Scarlett in a johnny, her good hand holding the thing shut on her behind, while she and Daisy are deep in a conversation.

  “Uh,” I say, scratching my head. “Good-mornin’ … ”

  “Did ya sleep well?” Daisy asks, snickering.

  “Sure.” Something’s going on, and I’m not sure I like it.

  “Your hair looks like you stuck your finger into an electric socket,” Daisy tells me.

  “My hair may be standing up, but Scarlett here is wandering around the halls in a piece of fabric with no backside.”

  “You can’t see anything,” she says.

  I close my eyes and smile. “Sure, I can, darlin’.”

  “Rude. No, you can’t,” she argues.

  I reopen my eyes because if she’s going to try and prove me wrong, I’
m going to have myself a look, and that thing is definitely see-through. “Just so you’re aware, and I’m not trying to have a bicker-war about it with you, that thang is see-through. I can see every … damn … thing, darlin’.”

  She shrugs. “Whatever, stare all you want.”

  Relentless. I drop my arms onto the counter and throw my head down because I’m wiped out after working a full day, then taking care of Scarlett, followed by spending the night in a chair. Thankfully, I do have the day free, but I think Scarlett has to work later today at some point. “How’s your head feelin’?” I ask her.

  “It’s fine. I don’t feel anything.”

  I raise a brow at her statement. “You don’t feel anything, or it doesn’t hurt?”

  “Same difference,” she argues.

  “No, not exactly.”

  “Ugh, why are you so grumpy? Do you need some caffeine or something?” She snaps at me.

  “Yes, please,” I tell her.

  “I have some spare clothes in the locker room. I’ll grab them for you,” Daisy offers Scarlett. I almost forgot that Scarlett’s clothes were covered in dirt and pig spit. If only I saw what she looked like when she came in. They had her cleaned up by the time I got to the hospital.

  “Oh, thank you so much. I’d really appreciate it. The clothes I came in with are sealed up in a bag, and I’m not sure I want to open it … ever,” Scarlett says.

  Daisy shakes her head with wide eyes. “That’s why I’m offering.”

  Scarlett follows Daisy into the staff room, and I take a seat in the waiting area. I’ve never actually sat out here and looked in at all the action from this angle. Besides the reception desk and the triage area, everyone’s moving around, looking like they’re in a busy train station. If I were a patient, this might make me a bit uneasy.

  “Hey bud,” Clara says as she grabs a stack of folders from Daisy’s desk. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Waitin’ for Scarlett,” I tell her.

  Clara comes over and takes a seat next to me. She slaps the stack of folders down on my lap and sighs. “Don’t let this one go, okay?”

  For Clara to say this to me, it means something. We’ve both selflessly wanted the best for each other over the years, and it’s nice to know that mutual feeling is still intact. “You think so?” I ask her.