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

by Ryan, Shari J.

  My GPS is guiding me through a quiet neighborhood just a few miles away from the hotel. I didn’t realize Denver went for a waterfront location, but these houses are all on the cliff. It’s beautiful and must cost a fortune.

  I realized after I agreed to Aya’s invitation that they literally moved in today and might not have much of anything set up yet, but I can help Aya with her room as she requested. She said she needed a girl’s touch and that Denver wasn’t always so good at that. It made me chuckle. I can’t imagine a big tough Marine being too familiar with things in the pink and purple department. Not that he hasn’t done a good job with her, but it must be hard. I’m not sure I’d know where to start with a boy after just being around Lea all my life.

  I pull in where the GPS tells me too, and I’m a bit taken aback by the size and beauty of this place. Either he saved up a shit ton of money, or he’s getting more tips than I thought at Man Buns, which I’m trying not to think about. I’m not allowed to think like that when we’ve only been on one date. Still …

  I park beside Denver’s truck and grab the bag full of things I picked up at a couple of stores after I got off work. I thought they might look cute in Aya’s room. Thankfully, I at least got the information about her wall and bedding colors. It was the first thing she told me.

  I go around to the back of my Jeep and grab the pizza I picked up too. Aya didn’t mention dinner, but I figured it was a safe choice in case she didn’t eat. Taking care of someone today has made me feel better than I’ve felt in a while, aside from my date. I kind of hope this all has a chance to go further. I’m not sure I can hide that little fact seeing as I’ve had a perma-smile on my face all day.

  The door is closed, but I manage to get the tip of my elbow up to the doorbell, hearing it simultaneously ring inside.

  The doorbell is followed by lots of pattering and thumping inside, and less than a few seconds later, the door swings open with Aya on the other side. Her face is just full of excitement. Her hair is dripping wet, and she’s in pajamas. He’s a good dad. I can tell so easily.

  “Well, hello, miss Aya. I’m here for our girls’ night,” I tell her.

  She throws her hands out to the sides. “I am so excited. Come and see my new room!”

  I follow her inside, wondering where Denver is, but I spot him toward the other side of the house, pushing a couch across the room. It’s so open and bright here, and the view is incredible. I’m kind of jealous. My house hasn’t changed a whole lot since the nineties. Mom and Dad didn’t do a whole lot of upkeep on the house, and I’ve done what I can to keep everything maintained, but I haven’t updated anything. There’s also no view, and not much of a yard, but it’s been home for as long as I know.

  “Wow,” I say. “The house is absolutely amazing.”

  Denver stops pushing the couch and straightens his posture, surprised to see me inside. I hope he doesn’t think I just walked in. That would be weird, especially since I think Aya is already waiting for me in her bedroom, wherever that is.

  “I didn’t know you were here,” he says. “I’m sorry. Did I not hear the bell?”

  “Oh, Aya let me in. I did ring the bell, though,” I tell him.

  He runs the back of his arm across his forehead, and I can’t help visually tracing a line from his bicep down to his hand, watching his muscles flex and tighten against his golden skin. “You okay?” he asks.

  Yup. Staring again. Must stop doing that. “Oh yeah, I was just admiring the view,” I tell him, trying to switch my glance toward the window before he questions me further.

  “Which view?” he asks, shamelessly.

  “Wow, listen to you being all egotistical and stuff,” I tell him.

  “What can I say? If you’ve got game—”

  “You’ve got no game,” I tell him. “I think we’ve been over this.”

  “Damn, you are not like any other woman I have ever met,” he says, walking toward me.

  “Easy? Blonde? Giggly?” Too mean? Maybe. That type of woman strikes me as his type.

  “Hey now. You don’t have to make it so obvious that I’m easy to figure out.”

  I place the bags down on the kitchen table and continue toward him. “I love it here,” I tell him again.

  “Thanks. It’s nice, but it may take a bit to make it feel like home, you know?”

  “I think that takes time, not things,” I tell him. I don’t exactly know by experience, since I haven’t ever moved into a new home, but for me, home is made up of the times spent there.

  “Yes, and no,” he argues. “It’s also the people inside the home. It’s memories, which are a part of people, not objects, right?”

  We’re standing in front of one another, and my heart drops heavily into the pit of my stomach as if I were flying down a steep roller coaster. “Yeah,” I say, agreeing but thinking of so many other things at once.

  “You look beautiful,” he says, leaning forward and placing a kiss on my cheek. “I have something for you. Come here.”

  “Kai!” Aya shouts from the other end of the house.

  “I’ll be right there,” I tell her. “Your dad is just giving me the rundown.”

  Denver takes me by the hand and leads me into his empty-looking kitchen. “I stocked the fridge, by the way, and got a few things at the store in case you guys get hungry. I didn’t want to leave you here with nothing.”

  “I grabbed a pizza too, just in case, but maybe I should give you more credit for being so put together.”

  “I’m not put together. It’s just an act, trust me,” he says. “Hang on.” He opens the refrigerator and pulls out a plastic container. I can’t see what’s in it with his back toward me, but he opens it and drops the container onto the counter before turning back around. “I found this at a little street cart on the way to the store. It’s a hybrid.”

  Every time we have intentionally seen each other, he has given me a hibiscus flower for my hair. Since I’m Hawaiian, it’s probably the sweetest thing in the world. Native men might do that for show around here, but it’s a tradition that seems to have gotten lost over the years. I’m not sure who taught Denver about it, but it makes my heart beat a little faster every time he gives one to me. I’m not used to people doing such things for me. “A hybrid?” I ask.

  “I guess it was created from a combination of red hibiscus seeds and violet hibiscus seeds, and the outcome is a radial gradient of purples and reds. They were telling me how they cultivated them, and I thought it was pretty cool.”

  “I’ve never heard of that before. It’s so pretty. I love it.” Denver sweeps his hand along the strands of my loose hair and tucks the right side behind my ear, then weaves the flower’s stem into place.

  “You really do have a way of making flowers look more incredible. I thought flowers were supposed to do the job of adding beauty to something, but not with you. It’s definitely the other way around.”

  “Where do you come up with this stuff?” I ask him, laughing because I don’t know how else to react to so much kindness and flirtation.

  “Uh, my head? Duh.” He’s looking at me like I’m nuts, but seriously. In my experience, nice men aren’t typically as smooth as Denver is, and part of me wonders if his kindness is an act. He hasn’t given up on me yet, though, so I’m hopeful it’s part of a bigger plan. Not that I know what that plan might be, but I guess I’ve built my surrounding walls up pretty high over the years.

  “I wonder what else is going on in that head of yours,” I ask with a raised brow.

  “Stuff you can’t know about,” he says, laughing, with a look of shame.

  I slap his arm playfully. “What do I need to know before you leave to get fondled for the night?” Hmmm. Maybe I shouldn’t have let that one slip out of my mouth, I think, biting my lip.

  The look on his face tells me he doesn’t appreciate my question. Oops.

  “Fondled?” He asks, seriousness filling in his deep voice.

  “I was kidding.” Kind of
. I saw the way all the women looked at him there in his “Man Buns” uniform.

  “No one is touching this,” he says, pointing to his body. “It’s only for show.”

  The sensation of pins and needles fills my cheeks, and I know my face is getting red. I’m a little embarrassed, but—I know I can’t be thinking this way. I shouldn’t have said that.

  “Really, I was kidding.”

  “Good, because the only thing I’ve been thinking about all day is how cool it will be to come home to you at the end of the night.”

  Without intention, my hands cup over my chest because his words keep taking my breath away, and I can’t stop the feelings flitting through me like a whirlwind of explosive emotions.

  Denver wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me in closer. A look of seriousness mixed with desire coats his face, and I wish I could read his thoughts. “This house felt really empty earlier, and suddenly, it’s not feeling that way at this moment. It’s nice.”

  I place my hands on his chest, remembering what it felt like to touch him in the same place with just a wet t-shirt between us. He’s making me want things I’ve avoided even considering in the past. It’s both exciting and frightening. “I’m scared to get hurt,” I tell him honestly. “I’m not good at pain.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says with a look of sincerity washing through his entrancing eyes. “I want everything but that, honestly.”

  “Why me?” I ask him. All of this happening so suddenly seems almost too good to be true.

  “I thought I would be the one to have to ask that.”

  “I can’t find anything I don’t like about you, not yet anyway. I mean, your job is kind of meh,” I say, wrinkling my nose, “but, I can deal.”

  “You mean, I’m not just all buns?”

  “You’re not?” I ask, feeling my cheeks pucker a bit. Wrong thought at the wrong time.

  He leans in slowly, coating the air around us with a breeze of mint from his breath. The cool sensation brushes against my lips, causing me to silently plead for his touch. I can feel his heart beating against my chest, and if he can feel mine, he’d know we’re feeling the same thing at this moment.

  “Kiss me,” I tell him.

  The words are like a trigger as he steals my breath by the force of his lips pressing against mine. His hands slide up my sides to gently cup my cheeks. My knees feel week. It’s hard to stand while feeling as though I’m melting from the inside out. I can’t breathe, and I’m not sure I care. A soft moan rasps in his throat, and my knees literally give out. I didn’t think that really happens, but yup, he caught me because evidently, he’s perfect. “Whoa,” he chuckles. “You okay?”

  “No,” I tell him, reaching up to touch my fingertips to my lips. “I’m not.”

  “Kai!” Aya screams again. I’m nearly blindsided by her shout because it reminds me I’m here for her, not Denver. I’ve been keeping her waiting, and she could have just walked out and seen us kissing. She doesn’t need to know about us in this way until he kisses me like that at least one more time. After that, I’m not sure I’ll be able to willingly leave again.

  “You smell like coconut and flowers. It’s probably the most incredible scent I’ve ever inhaled,” he whispers in my ear. “I’ll be back for another kiss at eleven. Is that okay?”

  “Yes,” I breathe the word, unable to form sound. “I’ll be waiting.” He reaches for the flower in my hair, straightening it a bit before taking a step away.

  “Aya, come give me a hug and a kiss. I have to get going, sweetpea.”

  She nearly gallops down the hallway toward us, looking back and forth between my face and Denver’s, and I’m not sure I want to know what she’s thinking.

  “Why are you two so red? You look weird.”

  I swallow hard while trying to come up with an answer. “Oh, Kai was helping me move the couch a little more. I still can’t seem to find a good spot for it,” Denver says. He’s quick on his feet with words.

  Aya leans back to look toward what I think is the living room area. “That’s where it was, though?”

  “I know. It looks better there than where I was trying it out.”

  “It’s just a couch,” she tells him.

  “I know, Aya.”

  “You’re so weird,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “Can you make sure she brushes her teeth and washes her face before she goes to bed?”

  “Of course,” I tell him. “I hope you like pizza, Aya?”

  “You brought pizza?” She asks with excitement.

  “Yup.”

  “Thank goodness. Now I don’t have to eat the healthy stuff dad bought at the store. It was just to make us look like good eaters. We’re not though. Don’t let him fool you.”

  Denver shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I’m going to be home late,” he says. “Maybe just talk about yourself tonight, Aya. Okay? Don’t give away any more of my secrets.” I’d probably be a bit nervous if I were Denver right now too. Aya has no filter.

  “Love you, Daddy,” she says in an angelic, yet devilish, tone. The sound of it would scare me if I were Denver. As if echoing my thoughts, he takes a deep breath and kisses her on the forehead.

  “Bed, no later than eight-thirty. No games. No bribes. No nothing. Got it?” he tells her.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Aya, be nice to your dad. He doesn’t want to have to work tonight. It stinks being a grownup sometimes,” I butt in. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did.

  “Yeah, I know he doesn’t want to go to work. He’d rather be here with us, but that’s what he gets for being an adult.”

  Oh, boy. He’s got his hands full with her. Maybe I should be a little scared about how tonight will go, but I raised Lea from a teenager on, so I’d like to think I can handle an adorable seven-year-old too.

  17

  Denver

  I’ve been trying to put all these pieces together for the past week or so now. I meet a chick who apparently hasn’t dated anyone before, and I don’t get it. I have an idea why Kai has remained solo, but she’s gorgeous, funny, sweet, and no one has pursued her before me? It’s not entirely adding up. I’m definitely not one to judge another’s actions after life takes a dump on a person, but why am I the lucky guy she’s found interesting enough to take a step in a direction she hasn’t considered before? Maybe it is just Aya that makes her interested in me? Women don’t do that kind shit, right? Nah. That’s ridiculous. They want to have their own kids most of the time. I think so, anyway.

  As I pull into the parking lot of Man Buns, I do my best to put on my game face. Despite feeling like I’m losing just an ounce of respect for myself each time I put those damn tiny shorts on, it’s for a paycheck … a nice girthy paycheck. Girthy … ha ha.

  I’ve been just sort of just going through the motions here. Noa isn’t here most nights, and I’m not a huge fan of the other waiters. I get the feeling they’re here for an ego boost. I mean, hey, if that’s the only way to get a boost, all the power to them. The funniest part is that they all stuff socks into their shorts, and I’m not sure any one of them realize dicks shouldn’t be clumpy, but I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.

  Thankfully, Lani is cool, and I can have a normal conversation with her here and there. “Hey, buddy,” she says as I walk through the doors. “I didn’t realize you were on the schedule tonight.”

  “Last I checked the schedule, I was on it,” I tell her.

  “Oh, I might be wrong. I scanned it pretty quickly when I came in.”

  “I’ll check it out. Thanks for the heads up.”

  I head on back into the locker room and over to the back wall where the schedule is pinned to a corkboard.

  Weird. I’m on here but only until nine. I’ve had full shifts since I started, but maybe it’s been slow on Tuesdays. I shrug it off because I know if it were for any other reason, Noa would have said something to me when we spoke earlier.

  I drop my shorts, already t
ucked in snuggly to my “Man Buns” shorts, and remove my shirt, before throwing my shit into one of the lockers.

  Once I make my way back out onto the floor, Lani’s waiting to see if she was right or not. I’m not sure why she didn’t think I was on the schedule at all. “Yeah, I’m working tonight, but he only has me on until nine, though. Are Tuesdays usually slow or something?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was wondering,” she says while wiping down the counter. “Noa usually only has one waiter on the floor on Tuesday nights. Danko is here too.”

  “No clue,” I tell her. Noa has had me on the schedule five nights a week, and I’m wondering if he’s doing it just to give me shifts. I don’t want to go pissing off the other waiters because I’m getting special treatment. I’ll have to bring it up to him.

  “Whatevs. Just so you know, tonight’s special is Bum Bum Burger, Cheeky Cheese Sticks, and the drink of the night is Hiney-Kin.”

  “Got it. So, is the Bum Bum burger a double or is it fully loaded? Oh, and is the Hiney-Kin hoppy, dark, pale, or just flat?”

  “Wow,” Lani says with a snarky laugh. “You are just full of bun puns, huh?”

  “Well, I don’t like to bust balls, and with all due respect, you don’t have those, so—I figured bun puns might be more relatable.”

  “All right, get out of here,” she says, shooing me off.

  “Hey, hot cakes!” an older woman with a toothy grin shouts from a nearby booth, waving a dollar bill in the air. It looks like I need to remind the customers once again, that “Man Buns” is not, in fact, a strip club, though I can understand how it can be easily confused for one.