Manservant

by Shari J. Ryan

  I watch as he bends over and . . . is his shirt purposely that short, just so everyone gets to glance at his v-cut muscles that are basically an arrow to his ass? He strikes me as the type to do that. Cocky.

  Liam places the dish on top of the stove and closes the oven door. “It was fine,” Liam responds to Samantha.

  “So, will there be a fourth date?” she asks like she’s trying to get her juicy gossip from Liam’s evident soap opera lifestyle.

  “I’m thinking no,” he says flatly. Oh, my God, was he stood up last night? Maybe it’s because he’s a turd to everyone.

  “Noooo,” Samantha whines. “What happened? You said she was pretty perfect just the other day.”

  Samantha’s words do something to my stomach, and I’m going to pretend I’m just hungry and not feeling any sort of emotion in my gut for this . . . mongrel of a man.

  “A little too self-absorbed for me,” Liam says. “I guess it took her a couple of dates to show her true colors.”

  “That and she ditched you last night,” I say out loud instead of in my head. Oh, shit. This conversation did not involve me, not even a little, and here I am smack in the middle of it while Liam and Samantha are both staring right at me waiting for something else to come out of my stupid mouth.

  “She—” Samantha looks at me first and then over to Liam. “She did?”

  “I guess.” He clears his throat and pins me with his darkening glare. “Should I make you a plate, Julia?” Liam asks.

  I want to smile as I construct the choice words rearing to pour from my mouth. “Thanks, but I have a date tonight. What time do you guys go to sleep? I don’t want to cause anyone to worry, and I don’t want to wake you up, of course,” I ask Samantha.

  “Daniel and I usually go to bed around twelve,” she says with some added excitement to her answer. “Who’s the guy? Where did you meet him?” While leaning on her elbows, she presses her fists into her chin, and her eyes widen as she leans forward with eagerness to hear more.

  “Sam needs to get out more,” Liam follows her questions. “You can become her new reality show now.” He winks at Samantha so she knows he’s joking, but he’s totally not joking at all.

  “It’s kind of funny, I met Sterling, Dylan’s lifeguard coach at the bakery in Ogunquit the other day, and we keep running into each other, so he convinced me to have dinner tonight.” I make sure to up the cheese factor just to get under Liam’s skin, especially seeing as he was stood up last night. This is starting to feel like a game, and I love winning.

  “Oh, Sterling is a sweetheart,” she says. “Good pickings. There’s nothing like a good ole’ Canadian boy, eh?” she mocks with a cute chuckle.

  “Exactly.” We both have a good laugh while Liam is clashing plates down onto the countertop.

  “Well, if everything with Dylan is all set now, I’m going to head upstairs and get dressed for tonight,” I tell her.

  As I leave Samantha and Liam alone in the kitchen, I hear her mumbling something to him, followed by him responding with, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Obviously, Liam can dish out all the assiness but can’t take it in return. I’m willing to bet all the other nannies have run away because of him. I wonder if Samantha has considered that.

  Little do they both know, I’m not sure I’m as excited about going out with Sterling tonight as I made it appear. I suppose I’ll get some better insight into what’s going on with his flirtatious nature and expertise in making a woman melt with just one stare. I’m juggling too much right now. I’m going to get myself in trouble. I guess since I’m already heading in that direction, though, I might as well go all out.

  I lift the flap of my suitcase and find it completely empty. Um, except, I didn’t put my clothes away yet. As the milliseconds pass by, I come to the quick conclusion that my clothes were put away by someone. A man who serves this house, possibly? I whip open the drawer closest to me and find my jeans all sorted by color and type. Oh no. Working my way down the row, I open one of the smaller drawers, finding my panties all folded nicely. Who the hell folds a pair of panties? He touched them all. Every single pair of my panties has been touched by this guy. My heart is racing, and anger is raging, or maybe it’s embarrassment. I don’t even know what the hell I’m feeling right now. He’s screwing with my emotional wiring, and it’s . . . AGH. I open the drawer a little wider, needing to continue suffering through the truth of what happened up here, and I find a goddamn sticky note with a smiley face on it and the word “Nice.” I fall backward onto my butt and run my fingers through my hair. How am I supposed to face him now? No, screw this. Payback is in order here.

  I’ll start with my black, thigh-length dress. By the length of her short shorts, I doubt Samantha will think much of it, and God knows Dylan hasn’t noticed anyone come in or out of the living room in two hours. The only person whose attention might be affected by this is Liam, and Sterling of course. I can handle him, though.

  I take a few-minute shower, freshen up, get dressed, spritz some perfume over myself, and head downstairs. Liam is on the couch, looking over Dylan’s shoulder at whatever game he must be playing, but his attention is quick to shift over to me as I make it to the bottom step without falling this time.

  His mouth parts just slightly, enough that for me to take a guess at the thoughts he’s trying to hide, except he’s not so good at hiding the struggle within his eyes. “Thank you for putting all of my clothes away,” I tell him. I press my lips firmly together and offer him a gracious, not-so-gracious smile.

  “Did you get my note?” he asks.

  “No? I must not have needed that drawer tonight. However, I did dump all my dirty clothes into the hamper, so if you need to tend to that, have it. Was the note important?” Sorry, Liam, I’m not wearing panties tonight, or if I am, you definitely won’t see the lines through my skintight dress while you stare at my ass on the way out of the house. Take that, manservant.

  Liam bites down on the tip of his thumb and slouches into the couch, looking away from me.

  “Ah, no note. Well, I guess you’ll see it the next time you choose to wear—” His gaze drop to my thighs as he swallows whatever lump must be in his throat. He’s very uncomfortable all the sudden. I can’t imagine why? Weird.

  “Next time I wear what?” I question.

  “Never mind,” he snickers nervously, with apparent frustration.

  “Oh, okay, well, thank you for folding and organizing my clothes today. I appreciate it. Have a good night,” I say, chipperly.

  “Have fun!” Samantha yells out from the kitchen.

  “I sure will,” I tell her, holding my focus on Liam with a raised brow to make my point clear.

  The second I leave the house, I feel like I won some kind of tournament. Game on, manservant.

  The twenty-minute drive to Jade’s apartment is filled with fending off my bundled nerves as I question the right and wrong of going on this date tonight.

  I’m in the prime of my life. This is what I should be doing—dating, trying new things, meeting new people, and finding what I do and don’t like, even though I’ve already learned that I don’t like good-looking men, which is why I shouldn’t be going on this date tonight.

  In addition to Andy, my other past relationships contain enough content to fill an entire book, which is exactly what I plan to do. Some day when I get the nerve to do so, I’m going to write about my awful dating experiences and title it He’s Just Too into Himself.

  While I’m not proud of the fact that I have enough knowledge on the subject to write an entire book, I can’t be the only one who keeps experiencing these types of men, and maybe the lessons I’ve learned can help a few others avoid the heartache I’ve suffered.

  Before Andy, there was Brad. Brad had super light blond hair that every woman just needed to touch, baby blue eyes, a tan—even in the winter—and of course, gorgeous muscles. He had dazzling white teeth and a perfect smile, surrounded by his perfect pouty lips
.

  Brad and I dated for . . . ohhh . . . just less than a week, but in that week, I endured awkward situations such as our first date when he sat down across from me, lifted his spoon, held it up in front of his face, smiled, and actually said . . . “Wow, Brad, you are looking fine tonight.” I thought to myself, okay, maybe he’s just joking. However, when he pulled out his phone and asked me to take a picture of him because selfies weren’t his “thing,” something felt a little off. In any case, I took the picture, then later that night, I saw it on Instagram with one hashtag that said, #lookinggood. I endured two more dates by drinking enough to convince myself his behavior was normal until he took me home and got me into bed. Things started out okay, but then I caught him staring at himself in his mirror while thrusting into me. At that moment, I decided enough was enough, so I got up mid-thrust, got dressed, and walked out.

  After Brad, there was Zach. I had high hopes for Zach. Just like Brad, he was a lot to look at: dark hair, light inset eyes shadowed by thick lashes, a perfect nose, and lips I couldn’t look away from. He also knew how to dress, which is a total turn on for me. He looked good all the time. I took that as a good sign that he took care of himself and probably wouldn’t stop showering a month into our relationship if it were to end up going that far. So, I gave it a go.

  It started off great. Zack took me to a lovely, five-star seafood restaurant, but when we arrived, he waited in the car until I came to open his door. A bit confused, a bit, I asked him if everything was okay. He said he just needed to check something on his phone, so I figured it was a coincidence that I ended up opening his door.

  We walked to the entrance of the restaurant, and he stepped to the side and stared at the door like a dog that needed to go out. If only his tail had been wagging, I might have picked up on his need a little sooner. After an odd few seconds, I finally opened the door and waved him on in. Not even a thank you came out of his mouth. He did, however, greet the hostess, who had roaming eyes and a smile just for him. Zach’s response? A smile, followed by, “I know, right?”

  Right then, before we even got to our table, I looked at him and saw a hideous man.

  Because I don’t learn from my mistakes or that some men are too beautiful for their own good, I soon met Andy.

  Andy was good. He pulled the wool over my eyes like no man had before. He opened doors. He didn’t take selfies. He didn’t stare in the mirror, and he even told me I was pretty on occasion. It was a step forward from what I had experienced before.

  Oh, Andy. What a prick.

  A year into our “decent” relationship is when I found him in my dorm room with my friends. That’s when I realized it didn’t matter how much time I invested into what I thought was a monogamous relationship or making future plans, it still takes less than five seconds to erase all of it and shatter my heart.

  After our breakup, I found an Andy Rake Facebook “Fan” page. Seriously . . . it was the biggest what the fuck moment of my life. It turns out; he wasn’t just cheating on me with my two friends. There were at least twelve others. Most of them found out before me and were already busy planning his demise. I left the group and the idea of good-looking men behind for the indefinite future.

  Another year later, here I am, facing the option to go back down that path or to go running in the opposite direction. I realize there are good-looking men who aren’t total assholes, but I’m not sure my radar is working the way it should be, so I’m not sure which category Sterling fits under yet. I hope I’ll figure out quickly if he’s jerk.

  When I pull into Jade’s parking lot, I recognize Sterling’s Jeep out in front, and for like the twentieth time today, my stomach twists into tiny little knots. Why must we do this dating thing? Why can’t a man just be walking around holding a limo sign with my name on it, informing me he’s the right guy? Life would be so much easier. Knowing my luck with men, though, the right guy lives in Antarctica or hasn’t even been born yet.

  I hike up the stairs and open the door to a super awkward scene, which is strange for Jade of all people. Sterling, and what looks like a mirror image of Sterling, are sitting at the edge of her bed while she leans against the back wall with her arms crossed over her chest, touting an annoyed look.

  “You’re late,” Jade scolds me.

  I glance down at my phone, finding I’m less than sixty seconds late. “Not really,” I laugh.

  “We should get going then,” Jade says, making her way over to me quickly and looping her arm through mine. “Ready guys?”

  Everyone is quiet as we load into Sterling’s Jeep. Jade and— “What’s your name, Sterling’s brother?” I ask.

  “Cleary,” he says. He’s so quiet, I can already see a vivid difference between the two brothers. Sadly, for Jade, though, quiet is not her type. I still don’t think Jade is in any position to be dating so soon after breaking off an engagement anyway, but I’m a supportive friend, and I will keep my lips sealed.

  “Everyone good with the Beach Fire?” I remember Sterling mentioning that place last night, and I’m not sure if it’s on the beach, or if it’s the name of a restaurant, but whatever it is, I hope it loosens everyone up.

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” Jade pipes up from the backseat.

  “Sure,” I agree.

  The only one who doesn’t say anything is Cleary . . . strange.

  “So, did you recover from nearly drowning today?” Sterling announces. Well, if that doesn’t break up the uncomfortable silence in the Jeep, I’m not sure what else will.

  “Yeah, I’m breathing on my own and on solid ground, so all is well,” I respond, glaring at him.

  Jade leans forward from the back seat and places her cold hand on my shoulder. “Excuse me? What did I miss today?”

  “She almost drowned trying to save the kid she’s caring for . . . except he wasn’t drowning. He got snapped by a crab, and Guppy here got hit with a big bad wave. Prince Merman had to save her butt.” Sterling tells the story with so much sarcasm it almost sounds like he’s making fun of the situation. Maybe someday I’ll laugh about it, but I was truly scared today. The wave dragged me at least twenty feet deeper into the water I couldn’t swim through. If Liam hadn’t saved me, would Sterling have sat there watching in laughter?

  “It wasn’t funny,” I correct him.

  “It was a little funny,” he croaks, trying to sound cute. “Tomorrow morning, I’m showing you how to swim.” So, when he says tomorrow morning, does he think I’ll be rolling out of bed with him to hit the beach at an early hour, or does he think I’ll be meeting him there? The thought has my head in a jumble, and I can’t figure this guy out, even a little bit. So, that now makes two guys in one day that I can’t figure out.

  “I can’t believe that happened,” Jade says, snorting through her stifled laugh. “Did you need CPR or anything?” Why wouldn’t she have asked that before laughing? What if I seriously almost drowned? She’d feel bad right now. I’d hope.

  “No,” I grunt.

  Sterling glances over at me, “So, how’s it been working with the jackiest ass ever?”

  “I thought you guys were friends?” They looked chummy last night. Liam obviously had his warning and disclaimer about Sterling, but they appeared to be friendly.

  “Eh, we surf together, so we’re just brochachos.”

  “Sorry, what was that?” I’m twisted in my seat, staring at Sterling’s profile, waiting for clarification of his non-English word.

  “They’re surfer friends,” Cleary inserts his second comment in the last five minutes.

  “Brochachos,” I repeat.

  “What would Jade and I be then?”

  “We don’t surf, dorkus,” she reminds me.

  “Well, we might,” I retort.

  “After almost drowning today, I don’t know about you,” she argues.

  I roll my eyes and straighten my position on my seat, keeping my gaze set on the street of the downtown area in Ogunquit. It is so cute here at night—white light
s line the streets, and there are so many people strolling down the sidewalks, walking in and out of small mom-and-pop shops. Live music echoes from one of the outside restaurants, and it’s like a small town out of a movie set. “I love it here. Is it always so lively at night?”

  “From Memorial Day to mid-September it’s pretty much just like this. It’s a New Englander’s weekend go-to spot,” Sterling says.

  “I can see why.” Enamored by the lights and music filtering in through the open Jeep top, we pass through the small area and continue up the street about a mile where I spot the largest fire pit I’ve ever seen. “I take it that’s the Beach Fire?” which is not so much at the beach.

  “You’re so attentive,” Sterling jokes. Taking his sarcasm down a notch wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, especially since we’re on a date. Is that too much to ask?

  After pulling into the full lot, we unload from the Jeep and walk toward the restaurant. “Are you guys starved?” Sterling asks everyone.

  “Not starved, but I could eat,” I tell him.

  “Same,” Jade says.

  Oddly, or not so oddly enough, Cleary doesn’t even answer.

  “Okay, how about some apps and drinks? We should grab those seats before the pit fills up. It’s still early enough that we can claim those bar stools for the show,” Sterling continues.

  “What show?” I question.

  “Just wait,” Cleary finally says.

  “We’ll be right back. Go grab those four seats.” Sterling takes Cleary’s arm and drags him into the restaurant. As they walk in, he places his arm around Cleary’s neck and says something into his ear.

  “Dude, this fucking sucks,” Jade whines. “He’s like a mute.”

  We take the seats on the farthest end of the fire pit, closest to the street. “It’s not like you’ve been talking up a storm,” I inform Jade.

  “I tried talking to him before you got there. It was like talking to a brick wall. What the hell is his problem?” she continues, placing her feet up on the stone siding of the pit.