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

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The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns Page 56

by Ryan, Shari J.


  “Oh my gosh,” I sigh, feeling my chest tighten like a knot.

  “I thought I would never have it all, Hannah. My world seemed to end when my baseball career ended, and I thought that was it for me, but you and Cora have proven that I can have it all, and this is better than I expected life could be. I want this—us, plus a cute kid with a sassy attitude who I can have tea parties with.”

  “I do like tea parties,” Cora adds in. “And I love Beefcake Batman, Mommy.”

  My hands are pressed against my chest, preventing my heart from exploding.

  I glance back down at my phone from the notification he sent and realize there’s a little bit of fate playing with us today because I happen to have the letters I need on the game board to respond to his question.

  I place the letters, Y-E-S, out in a row and click play. When I look up, he’s on his knee with a ring in his hand, smiling, with a look I’ve only seen when I watched the video of him walking up to the plate on the baseball field. I wondered what it would take to bring that smile back.

  “Mommy, say yes!” Cora says as she climbs down from the platform.

  He asked Cora first, which means he can have my heart.

  “I already did, sweetie.”

  “You did?” Logan asks? “I didn’t get a notification.” I throw my head back and roll my eyes. “Damn Internet.”

  “Yes, Logan, I will marry you.” I rush to him and wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him with as much force as I can offer, so he knows how much feeling is inside of that three-letter word. “You’ll always be my Dickle.”

  As the moments pass by, and Cora’s hug loosens from our necks, she looks at Logan and says, “Tell her.”

  “Tell me what?” I ask, looking at them.

  “Alan just announced his retirement, and Brett was promoted. Oh, and Nick and Taylor were let go on several counts of sexual harassment. Weird, right?”

  “So weird,” I say with a laugh.

  “Oh, and I might have overheard who the new vice president of the company is going to be …”

  “What? How would you hear that?”

  “Brielle was at the company meeting this morning,” he says with a laugh. I missed the company meeting—it’s the first one I’ve ever missed. “Your name was announced, and they said you’d be claiming your new title tomorrow.”

  Holy crap. “Are you serious?”

  “Serious as ever,” he says.

  “What about you?” The six-month temp term was only extended a few weeks, and there hadn’t been an approval from Alan on making Logan’s position permanent, so I’ve been worried about how that may turn out.

  “Tech needs help, so I’m switching departments. It’s more of my thing anyway, and that way, we’ll keep our personal life separate from work.”

  “So, when I need IT support …”

  “I’m your man, baby.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  THANK YOU!

  To authors, reviews are like our fuel, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving a few quick lines for me (even just a few words <3 ), I would greatly appreciate it.

  * * *

  I’m so grateful you took the time to read Man Flu. I hope you enjoyed it! If you need more comic relief in your life, make sure you continue reading to see what else The Man Cave has in store for you.

  Manservant and Man Handler!

  ____________________________

  MANSERVANT

  ____________________________

  ____________________________

  PROLOGUE - ONE YEAR EARLIER

  One final exam left to go. Thank God. Then, I can forget about everything and spend the summer with my Andy. Our schedules haven’t allowed us to be together nearly enough this year, and I hope to make up for that over the break by spending most of our time in bed.

  Since I’m two years behind Andy, it's been hard watching him get scooped up into the real world while I'm still living on campus, but he's here every weekend, and we talk a lot. Just one year to go, and then we can get an apartment together and finally be on the same life page.

  “How did you do, girly?” Jade pops up behind me and wraps her arm around my neck as we make our way down the dorm hallway.

  “Not too bad, but I felt like Professor Adams was staring at me the whole time I was taking my mass comm final. It was very distracting,” I tell her.

  She shrugs her shoulders. “He totally wants to get in your pants. It could boost your final grade.” She squeezes me and shrieks, “One more day in this hell hole, and it’s summer vacation."

  “That’s gross. He’s like sixty or seventy. Plus, that mole on his cheek has two hairs growing out of it, and the dried boogers he always has in his nose . . . how does he not know they’re there?”

  “Yeah, good point. Don’t let him near your pants. A better grade isn’t worth it for that,” Jade says. “Oh crap, before I forget, do you have that dress I lent you last week? Chip is taking me out for our sexiversary tonight.”

  I laugh at the way she accentuates the sex part of their anniversary. Jade and Chip celebrate every milestone, no matter how small, or how large it is. “Oooh la-la! Where are you going?” I ask, reaching into my back pocket for my room key.

  “Probably a burger joint, but I still like to look nice. Plus, I don’t care if we just sit outside, and do nothing. It’s Chip," she says breathlessly. "I have no problem gazing into his eyes all night. That’s normal, right?”

  “You have it so bad for him, Jade. Please shoot me if I ever end up like you,” I jest.

  “Oh pa-lease, you and Andy are totally heading down the same path. He like totally worships the ground you walk on, and the air you breathe—all that crapola.”

  “You think so?” I ask with a small smile, wondering whether I truly am following in Jade's footsteps. It's never been my thing to fall head over heels for someone the way Jade has, but Andy does have a particular charm to him. Plus, it's been a year, and we're in love, talking about future plans. So, maybe she is right. “He’s good to me. I think I lucked out there.”

  “See, you thought all hotties were assholes. I told you that wasn’t the case,” she reminds me.

  “I was wrong," I lament. "Feel better?”

  Jade pats herself on the back. “I do feel better, as a matter of fact. Thanks.”

  “Andy’s here packing up my stuff so we can take off right after my final tomorrow. He’ll be happy to see you,” I tell her.

  “Oh, I didn’t know he was here,” Jade chirps. “Let me at the tough guy. He needs a Jade hug.”

  “Maybe I should warn him first.” I laugh with a raised brow because it takes a certain type of person to handle Jade's eccentricity. “Take a deep breath first and calm down, so you don't startle him.” Andy calls her Crazy Jade, but I've kept that to myself.

  I unlock my dorm room door and push it open. “Andy, look who’s here to see you,” I announce while pulling my key out of the lock.

  As I turn toward my side of the room, my heart does that thing where it beats twice at one time instead of beating at its normal rhythm, right before it sinks to the bottom of my stomach, and suddenly, I want to vomit.

  Andy is here, but he’s definitely not helping me pack. He’s in the middle of my three-hundred-dollar Pottery Barn comforter, butt naked, in the company of not one, but two naked girls. He has his face buried in one girl’s crotch, and his cock in the other. As I focus on the horrifying scene, I know it will be burned in my mind forever. It’s Lara and Kari from next door—with Andy—on my bed, on my comforter that cost me a whole month’s salary. There’s a naked ass on my pillow, and two sets of breasts furiously bouncing in the air. I feel totally disgusted and violated.

  Not one of them heard the door open, or my voice as I announced my entrance. They must be be having a really good time.

  Jade walks in beside me, and I shove the door closed, causing a loud thud. In response to the sound, body parts begin to fly and untangle as the three of them sit up, all with
looks of utter shock. Are they actually surprised to be caught having sex on my bed? Did not one of them consider that I might get out of my exam a few minutes early and catch them? Oh my God, how long has this been going on?

  “I can explain,” Andy says.

  Explain? I take a few steps forward, feeling bewildered, hurt, and raging mad. “Explain what? How Lara’s crotch fell on top of your mouth, and your cock fell into Kari’s? Is that the story?” I’m not sure how I’m even holding myself together right now and forming understandable words, but I never expected to see a threesome—especially on my bed with my boyfriend and two friends from next door. “You’re such a fucking douche bag,” I yell. “And you two skanks . . . I thought we were friends. Kari, I held your ratty hair last week while you vomited in a bush on the quad. What the hell are you doing?”

  "Oh man, she's totally going to kill all of you," Jade mumbles to them as she twirls her hair around the back of her ear.

  “I’m so, so sorry, Julia,” Lara says.

  “Sorry? Out. Everyone out.” I feel the sobs creeping up my throat, so I grab what’s closest to me, which happens to be a keyboard. I tear it from the computer and throw it at them, missing all three.

  “Jules, you know you have a bad throwing arm. That’s not going to work,” Jade whispers in my ear.

  I take my phone out of my back pocket and snap a picture of the horrifying scene on my pretty comforter. “You’re right, Jade. It’s better to post this picture on Instagram later, so everyone knows how slutty these three are.”

  “Guys aren’t usually called sluts,” Jade whispers again.

  “Shh,” I tell her.

  “Please,” Lara begs. “I’m up for a scholarship next year for the community service projects I’ve done this semester. This will ruin my chances.”

  I laugh. “Fuck you.”

  “Babe, let’s talk this through,” Andy says, standing up from the bed in his full glory. He quickly moves across the room and grabs my arm, pulls me into him, and presses his lips to my forehead. “I love you. I was just—"

  "You were just testing out the skanks from next door instead of helping me pack?"

  "Well—"

  “Get the hell off me,” I seethe, trying to push him away. His grip is tight, and it’s pissing me off even more than I already am.

  As I try to squirm away, he tightens his hold. “Please, Julia.”

  Fine. So be it. I knee the asshole so hard in his exposed balls that he flops to the ground like a jellyfish, moaning in pain. “Don’t worry; your little pecker problem never did much for me anyway.” I snap one more picture to make one of those cute collages, then take Jade by the arm to leave. “I told you all hot guys were assholes,” I remind her as we walk out the door.

  “Only the hot guys you seem to find, sweetie.”

  “Fuck all hot guys. No, wait. I will never fuck another one again.”

  "You just handled that so well. I could never do what you just did," Jade tells me.

  I learned long ago that it's either tears or anger—weakness or strength. I've been gutted before, and I know anger is the best way to deal with the pain draining from the core of my heart. "Don't be fooled to think I'm okay," I tell her. "I don't ever want to date again. I’m swearing off all guys, especially hot guys.”

  “Oh—uh, okay well, let’s just get out of here for a few minutes, so you don’t say anything else you’re going to regret,” Jade says, trying to pacify me at this life-altering moment.

  "It's true, Jade. I will never make this mistake again.” Three men, all too into themselves to care even just a little bit about someone else—me. Andy, though, he's the icing on the cake made of douchebags, and this heartache I'm about to go through will be enough to last me a lifetime.

  ____________________________

  CHAPTER ONE

  CURRENT DAY

  There you are. I slide my hand into the back of my bottom drawer and pull out the one thing I’ve been hanging onto like a childhood blanket. There was a point in time when I avoided the thought of a little treasure like this because of the naughty behavior it’s used for. Then, I broke up with Andy, and suddenly there was an ache between my legs that needed a type of attention it wasn’t getting anymore. Seeing as how I've crossed out the idea of dating, my mind was on overdrive, causing me to have wet dreams—because, evidently, it can happen to women too. However, this issue morphed into nightmares that would end with the equivalent of whatever blue balls are for women, which I’ve proclaimed to be a purple peach. Hey, Just go with it, okay?

  Anyway, I could either fix my problem with another guy who would break my heart, or I could solve my own problem. Seeing as I’m a DIYer, I’m all for finding alternative solutions.

  About a year ago, I pulled up Amazon and searched for vibrators. Little did I know, there are at least a hundred different varieties; some are simple and get the job done, others . . . well, some are big, and some are small, some are quite fancy, some have numerous features, and then there are the types that I couldn’t make heads or tails of (pun intended). I went for simple and cute, figuring it was my best bet, but it was like a dying battery in an electric razor. I needed something with a little more power. So, I moved up a few levels and felt like I was being pried open by the thing. Anyway, it took five tries, but I finally found the “one,” which I call Shermanator because I’m one of those people who need to give everything a name, and I’m just that lonely. In any case, my problem has been solved—no more purple peach.

  Now that it’s been almost a year since I found Shermanator, he hasn’t cheated on me once, and I don’t know what I’d do without him. Changing the batteries once a month is way easier than putting up with the good-looking men I tend to be attracted to, and the typical issues come along with them. I know I’m discriminating against hot men, but they have a track record with me, and it isn’t good.

  After burying Shermanator under my clothes, I zip up my last bag and hoist it up on my knee to get a better grip, then clamber out of my bedroom and head down the hall to the front door. “That should be it,” I chirp, before tripping over a stupid random shoe lying on our matted, green shag carpeting.

  As I’m flying forward and my bag is tumbling through the air, I realize I’ve been so busy packing these last few days that I haven’t had much time to clean up. It’s right this second, just as I’m hitting the ground and temporarily branding my clumsy body with a new bruise that the guilt settles in—or was settling in until the big gasp Dad always makes every time I fall or walk into a wall. You'd think I was getting hit by a car every single time I have a Julia-moment. His gasps are so loud that they actually scare me enough to make me jump. Yup, that's Dad.

  "Oh, dear God," Dad shouts, running toward me. "How have I managed to keep you alive for twenty-two years. People are going to think you've been raised by wolves who never taught you to walk. Are you okay?"

  "Dad, I'm fine," I tell him, pushing myself up to my knees. I love him to death, but he can be very overly dramatic at times, or sort of all the time.

  “Let me get that for you, Jelly-Bean.” Dad takes the heavy bag from the ground. Thankfully, it didn’t fly open. Obviously, the only thing that could make this dramatic scene worse is if Shermanator had flown from the bag and fallen in front of him. I can hear it now: What’s this Jelly-Bean? Is it one of those funky, thick pens with all the different colors, like the ones you had when you were a kid? I didn’t know they were still around.

  “I can get my bag, Dad, really, it’s okay.”

  “I don’t want you falling again, walking into the closed door, tripping down the steps, or . . . seriously, Jelly-Bean, please try to be more careful. I’m not going to be with you in Maine to scrape you off the floor every ten minutes.” Yeah, yeah. My clumsiness is nothing new. Some people have two left feet, some people constantly have their head in the clouds, and some people are lucky enough to be a part of both categories. That would be me. However, I did survive four years of college, so I'll
be okay in Maine too.

  I meet Dad at my little, circa-1995ish blue coupe—it’s my other pride and joy, or piece of shit, as Dad refers to it, but right now, it’s my ticket to freedom. “This thing is going to shit itself on the way to Maine. You have that AAA card I gave you, right?" he asks.

  "It's not going to die, and yes, I have the card," I groan.

  "All right then, I think it's time for you to hit the road, kiddo. Let's get moving."

  I give him an odd look because he's rushing me. Dad doesn't rush me away from the house, ever. He's usually trying to figure out a way to make me stay longer, unless—"

  Dad opens my car door and pats my seat. "Who is she?" I ask, grinning with mischieviousness.

  "She? Who? What are you talking about?" Dad replies, looking so confused, yet I can tell he's lying.

  "Okay, Dad. I'll play along."

  I slide into my seat, and he slams the door closed, but pokes his head in through the open window. "You know, you were supposed to leave an hour ago, right?"

  "Am I raining on your lady friend parade?" I crank my seat back and rest my hands behind my head. "Is it a little bit of Monica who's in your life?"

  "Julia," he says with a hint of haste.

  "Ooh, do you like Erica by your side?"

  "Julia, please, mind your own business."

  "Rita. You said she was all you need."

  "Okay, now you're acting ridiculous. You're going to hit rush hour traffic if you don't get going."

  "Oh my God, it's Tina you like to see.

  Dad pushes away from my car and folds his arms over his burly chest. "Let me know when you're done singing Mambo #5.”

  "Fine, is it Sandra, Mary, or Jessica?"

  "Okay, now you're just being annoying. It's none of those women. God, you're just like your old man."

  "Can't blame me for that," I say, batting my eyelashes at him.

 

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