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

by Ryan, Shari J.

  “I don’t have a problem, Liam.”

  “I was just going to tell you to take a hot shower.”

  I glance over my shoulder at him, knowing I can’t control the slight snarl screwed into my lips. “What does that have to do with you being a jerk?”

  “I jerk off in the shower,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I thought you might be interested in knowing that since you seemed so interested in my cock when you visited my bedroom last night.

  Now I’m picturing him jerking off in the shower, and squeezing my eyes as tightly as I can doesn’t seem to fix the problem, it makes it worse. “I can’t do this.”

  “Can’t do what?” he asks calmly.

  “These sexually-fueled exchanges of hate, lust, or flirting . . . whatever you want to call them. You’re driving me nuts.” I’m only slightly regretting everything I just said, but he needed to hear it because this must stop. I mean, it doesn’t have to stop, but it should stop. We’re living in the same house. Plus, I need to deal with Sterling as it is, and this is just adding fuel to the burning sensation between my legs that I can’t fix without Shermanator.

  “Whoa,” he laughs. “Can you repeat what you just said once more?” Why?

  “I’m sure you heard me.” Plus, I don’t know what was in my head and what would come out of my mouth now if I tried to repeat my sentiments. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “That’s great. You think I’m crushing on you,” he jests.

  Ha ha, Liam. Elbow to the gut, I get it. It’s all in my head, right? Yeah, no. Touching my panties, hiding Shermanator. The condoms. Come on.

  “Is that some kind of surf slang for flirting with a girl?” I ask.

  “We’re in Maine, not Cali, but sure.”

  We reach the hardened sand where the tide is easing away, and Liam wastes no time pulling off his shirt. Eyes forward . . . breathe. Look how pretty the water is. The sun is reflecting off the horizon line beneath the fluffy clouds in the bright blue—I just can’t do this! He’s too distracting.

  Swallow. Breathe. Blink. Remove shorts and shirt, kick off sandals, and walk toward the water. That is why we’re here, and it’s too early in the morning to banter.

  I approach the water’s edge and then quickly walk into the foamy sea scum like I’m walking down a long hall in a race to get into the bathroom, which is a huge mistake. This water is so shockingly cold that I might pee myself! “Holy shit!” I shriek. This is probably one of the reasons I don’t swim. I hate cold water.

  “It’s cold early in the morning,” Liam informs me.

  “You fucking think?” I yell back.

  “Easy, I was just trying to warn you.”

  “I’m already in the water, jackass.”

  “Yeah well, most people don’t normally rush in as if they’re being chased by a bull. Although, it is one way to get over the cold faster. I’ve always been a firm believer in getting it over with rather than painfully enduring it, but it might also help if your swimsuit covered some of you up, too.”

  I wrap my arms around my chest as I convulse from the frigid temperature surrounding my ankles and below.

  “Come on, you’ll be fine.”

  I don’t see how there is any possibility of taking another step further into this ice pit. Clearly, I’m not given that choice, though, because Liam’s hand is firmly wrapped around my wrist, and he’s pulling me against the current. “I can’t go in there,” I tell him, sounding weak and freaking cold, but right now I don’t care.

  “Trust me, okay?”

  “Trust you?” I shout back. “All you’ve been trying to do is piss me off since I crossed this state border. How in the world could I trust you of all people?”

  “You still think I’m trying to piss you off, huh?” Liam has managed to distract me with our passing words, and somehow, we are waist deep in the Arctic. I believe we have even crossed oceans. Actually, I think I see an iceberg ahead. “See, you’re okay now.”

  Either my body is becoming used to an iced-over version of hell, or I’m numb from the waist down.

  “What else could you possibly be trying to do, other than piss me off?” I press for an answer I’m sure I still won’t drag out of him.

  “I’m not trying to piss you off, Julia, despite what you want to believe.”

  “Then what is it?” I’m hardly able to annunciate my question through my chattering teeth.

  “Look, I figured if I pissed you off enough, you’d leave before anyone got hurt . . . meaning Dylan. I can’t stand watching that poor kid hurting every time he gets attached to someone, only to watch them leave soon afterward.”

  I feel like this is the first piece of honesty Liam has offered me outside of Dylan’s dad situation, but this isn’t only about Dylan. He feels pain watching Dylan suffer, which means he has real people emotions, and he’s not one-hundred-percent prick, infused with materials that make up a douchebag.

  “You still think I’m going to leave?” I ask.

  “Actually, no, but, you’re so damn cute when you get mad, it sort of just became fun to torture you.”

  Inside of my now frozen soul, I feel a slight wrath of fury swirling around inside my chest in response to his confession. I pry one of my arms away from around my chest and point at him. “Stop trying to piss me off.” It’s all I can come up with. How is he not even shaking?

  “Did you sleep with him last night?” Liam asks, serious as day, no hitch to his voice, no emotion, just a solid question like he just asked me what the weather is like.

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I tell him. “And why do you care?”

  “I would congratulate Sterling later. That’s all. He’s got a working tally, and he is a little behind his summer. I know he was worried about it, but it looks like you’re solving that problem for him.” Liam winks at me as if he’s convinced himself that I did sleep with Sterling last night. He can try to ninja his way into my head all he wants, but it isn’t happening.

  “A tally? Are you kidding me? Can’t you come up with anything better than that? Let me guess; he has notches on his bedpost too?”

  “That part, I can’t confirm. I’ve never been to his place, but I wouldn’t put it past him.” At least this time, he can see me rolling my eyes since we’re out in broad daylight.

  “Okay, put your face in the water,” he instructs.

  “What? Why?”

  He laughs. Because apparently, I’m funny. So funny. But as far as I’m concerned, there is absolutely nothing funny about my question. “Um, so I can teach you how to blow bubbles.”

  “And you’re laughing at me?” I ask.

  “Hold your breath, sunshine,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  “No, no, no, no, wait a minute. You’re not going to push my head down ,” I state and question at the same time.

  “I won’t push your head down, but I’m happy to if that’s something—”

  “Stop! Just stop.” I get down on my knees, feeling more of the water cover my body, wrapping me in its glacial death grip. I can do this fast or slow. He prefers fast seeing as he mentioned getting things over with, so we’ll do it his way today. I plunge my face into the water and pull it back out just as quickly like I were bobbing for apples and got lucky within the first second. It’s freezing! Oh, why couldn’t my nannying job be on the Florida coast instead of Maine?

  “I told you to blow bubbles. Do you need me to show you how to do that too?”

  “I know how to blow.” I leave him with that as I dunk my head back under the water to give him his stupid bubbles.

  When I re-emerge, he’s staring up at the sky with a stupid grin on his face. “Good, now let’s go in a few more feet.” The water doesn’t feel as stabby now, so it’s not as hard to walk in a bit further. “We’ll start with floating.”

  “Okay, but I can’t, so . . .”

  “Everyone can,” he corrects me. “Put your face back in the water, but this time lift your arms
and legs.”

  “I’ll just sink to the bottom,” I argue.

  “Okay, I get it, you don’t trust me, but you won’t sink.”

  At least if I do, there are only small waves over here, and I can stand back up. I dip back under and shoot my arms out first because that’s easy. Then I lift a leg, imagining what I look like now because if he can see into the water, I probably look like one of those Italian peeing statues in the middle of a fountain.

  However, I can tell he’s not looking because his hands just slid under my rib cage and he’s lifting me up. His hands are big like they take up most of my stomach. I’ve gone from a peeing statue to an elegant figure skating partner who can’t keep her head up. What adult needs to learn how to swim like this? I couldn’t just Google this shit? It can’t be this hard.

  One of his arms wraps around my body as I lift my head above the water for air. “Now you’re going to want to kick your legs under the water and move your arms at the same speed.”

  We’ve graduated folks. I’ve gone from a figure skating partner to a wind-up figurine like Scuba Steve.

  Just as I’m starting to find a rhythm between my arms and legs, a small wave gushes into us and his arm tightens around me, but slips at the same time, forcing his hand up and around my right breast, which I can feel very clearly since the tiny wave yanked my bikini top up to my neck. You must be kidding me right now.

  The second we recover and find our footing in the sand, his hand “degropes” me, and he releases his grip on my boob. While I assumed he’d jump back a foot and apologize or something, he just nonchalantly helps me with my top. I mean, he’s pulling my bikini top back down, over my breast and letting it— “Ouch!” Snap back into freaking place.

  “This isn’t the best type of bathing suit to learn how to swim in, just for future reference.”

  I should be in utter shock. Not only did he just touch my breast, then fix my bikini top . . . for me, but he is completely unaffected by the exchange. “I got it, thanks. I’ll be bathing suit shopping this weekend, trust me.” He grabbed my breast, and I’m already past the thought of how large his hand is, considering he made me feel like an A-Cup when in fact, I’m pretty well endowed.

  “Oh, watch yourself,” he warns.

  Another wave, slightly larger than the last one, is coming for us, and rather than find a way to avoid being knocked over by it, I obviously protect the bikini situation, so I don’t have to be exposed again.

  Wrong choice . . .

  The wave shoves me forward—not once, but twice—right into Liam. I still have my bikini top and bottom on, but I’m flat against his body. Ripples from the wave are making it hard to push back from him, so I release my hands from his rippled chest, dropping them into the water, but—oh, I have an idea—not so accidentally grazing his—massive boner. We’re in freezing water, and I’m sure I’ve heard it’s nearly impossible to have that happen in such icy waters. That size can’t be possible in a resting position, though . . .

  “So, this isn’t going well,” he finally spits out.

  “I’d say so. We’ve both been fondled, and I still can’t swim.”

  “It’s going to take some time. Most people don’t learn to swim in a day,” he says, ignoring the fondling part of my statement.

  “Most children, yes, I’m sure you’re right. I’m twenty-two, however.”

  “We’ll just have to keep at it until you know how to swim.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what we’ll have to do.”

  Wave. Fucking wave. His chest is so smooth, hard, and my hands are trapped between us, so I kind of want to grab his pec just to see how hard it is, but I won’t. I should. My cheek is resting on his chest, which feels nice on my face too, and he smells like . . . ocean mist with a hint of coconut from his sunscreen—a scent I want to bottle up and keep.

  Liam’s hand wraps around my back as if he were embracing me, and for less than a split second, I feel like something is right about this.

  It was just another wave though.

  “Let’s head out. We’ve ended up a far distance from the shore. That’s why the waves are getting bigger. You don’t always realize you’re moving when the current is pulling you out.”

  The momentum of everything is stronger out here. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling. His hand is still against back as he helps me walk against the pressure of the ebb and flow from the forceful tide.

  As we approach the sand, I hear, “Brochacho!” shouted from down the beach. It takes a minute for my eyes to focus, but when I see who it is, I realize why it’s so important to learn how to swim: If I knew how to swim right now, I’d be out of here before Sterling or Cleary has a chance to see me.

  This is totally not awkward. Not even a little bit. I kissed one of you last night and fondled the other ten minutes ago. After only two days, I think am officially a beach whore. It does have a nice ring to it, I suppose.

  I grab my towel and quickly wrap it around myself, hoping to detract some of the attention away from my body, which is apparently under a spotlight. “Guppy, what are you doing here?” Sterling’s words sound chipper, but at the same time, there is an inflection of what the fuckery. Because, yeah, he offered me swim lessons too, and probably not at zero degree thirty in the freaking morning. Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer instead.

  “Oh, uh—“ Name. Name. His name. “Liam, offered me swim lessons.”

  “Ahh, nice, nice. How’d she do?” Sterling asks Liam.

  “Before or after the wave almost stripped her bare?” Liam asks, laughing. Holy crap, why would you say that to him? No.

  “It was nothing.” I laugh nervously, combing my fingers through my wet strands.

  “I wouldn’t call that nothing,” Liam adds in. “I copped a feel.” What, are we . . . fifth graders in the boys’ bathroom?

  “You do know I’m standing right here,” I pipe in.

  “Yeah, you should um, pull your towel up a bit,” Liam mutters and gestures to me, pointing at my on-alert frozen nipples. I grip my towel and hold it against my neck for full coverage. I look back and forth between the two of them, and I feel the testosterone in the air. Sterling expressed that he’s interested in me, but why is Liam acting possessive all of a sudden? I feel like he might come over here and claw his mark into me to claim his territory or something.

  “I’m going to get going,” I tell them. I think that would be best for all parties involved at this point.

  “Where’s your stuff?” Sterling asks Liam. “You not going back into the water today?”

  “I’ll be back at it tomorrow. I pulled something yesterday, so I’m taking a rest day,” Liam tells him.

  I feel completely uncomfortable right now, especially seeing the somewhat crushed look on Sterling’s face. It was bad enough I basically told him he couldn’t call me last night after he kissed me, but seeing/hearing all of this now is kind of a slap in the face. He’s misreading this whole situation, and understandably so.

  “Hey, Guppy, I know what you said last night, but—“ I should just start running now. Sterling makes his way over to me and takes me by the arm, bringing me a few feet away from his brother and Liam. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night. That kiss—” Yeah, that word was a little louder than the rest of his words. “It was something else and—did you feel it too?”

  I’m trying to avoid the obvious peripheral stare Liam is hiding, not-so-subtly, when I look up at Sterling. “Yeah, I felt it too, but—I told you my reasons. I just need to get settled here for a bit and figure some things out.” Like, do I want to have some nice sex all summer, then go home and pretend like it never happened, or should I just auction my heart out to someone who wants to have the first crack at breaking it open like a piñata?

  “I gotcha. Liam, though, he’s not bothering you, is he? I can handle him if he is. I know he can be a little rough around the edges sometimes.” What is the right answer here? Yes, he’s
bothering me . . . he grabbed my breast, acts like a jerk, and he hid Shermanator from me, but other than that, he’s been perfectly charming?

  “No, I can deal with him. It’s not an issue, really.”

  “Are you diggin’ him?” Another question I can’t honestly answer.

  “I—I ugh, Sterling, I just don’t know anything right now, okay? I got here less than a week ago, and my head is all over the place. It’s a lot to take in at once. I’ve never left Indiana before last week, I lied to my dad about what I was doing here, and he’s out there alone, probably living in a filthy house, eating leftovers from dinners I made two weeks ago. I need—just I need some time, like I said.” I don’t leave my statement open ended, or the opportunity for another question to pop up. Instead, I turn and jog back to the house.

  It isn’t until I reach the small boardwalk leading up to the path that I realize I forgot my flip-flops, but I don’t want them badly enough to go back down there right now. I’d rather get new ones later.

  I reach the side of the house and rinse my feet with the small foot shower, then rush inside before Liam can catch up with me. No more questions. No more teasing. No more groping. I need a break from it all.

  When I close myself inside of the house, I find Samantha and Daniel in the kitchen having a heated but quiet conversation in the kitchen. At the sound of the door closing, their voices go mute, and Samantha turns the corner. “How did the swim lesson go?”

  She’s decked out in her yoga clothes, ready to leave, but it’s only eight. I thought she didn’t head out until nine. This getting up early business is new to me. I’ve never understand how anyone is completely functional before nine in the morning. Daniel turns the corner too, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. He’s dressed casually today, unlike yesterday.

  “It went okay, I guess.” I’m still holding the towel up to my neck, afraid of anyone seeing more than they bargained for, now knowing I’m wearing the wrong type of swimwear for almost all occasions.