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Man Handler (Man Cave - A Standalone Collection Book 3) by Shari J. Ryan (25)

 

Austin

I shouldn’t be doing this. I follow my gut most of the time, but I’m completely ignoring the hell out of that thing right now. I’ve got pinching pains and nausea. That should be enough of a reason to stop me from going any further, but nope. I have told every thought in my head to shut up.

I walk up a set of steps and take a seat on the bench outside just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out, ironically finding a text from Scarlett.

I can’t respond to her right now. I don’t even want to know what the text says, so I drop the phone back into my pocket. With a shit ton of discomfort coursing through me, I shift my position to ease some tension, but I don’t think there’s any way to relieve my stress at the moment. This was stupid. Shit.

I knew better, and I look like a complete idiot right now.

I should respond to Scarlett’s text and at least ask her how it went. She must know if she got the job or not. I just don’t think I’m ready to know.

I stand back up because sitting down is making my stomach hurt more. Instead, I pace, making me look just a little crazier than I feel.

The doors in front of me swing open and I see her. She’s walking with her head down, staring at her phone. Dressed in a pencil skirt with a fitting white blouse, the only thing I really notice is those fucking hot-as-hell heels. Then, her hair catches my eye—the red hues shimmering from what’s left of the daylight that’s peeking through the dark, thick clouds. She reaches into her bag and pulls out her sunglasses, so I clear my throat.

She looks up at me and gasps. I think I took her breath away, but I know very well that this could end badly. She’s not the type to be happy about a man getting on a plane and flying across the country for her after just a couple days apart. It wasn’t about the time though. It was about showing her that no matter how much she doesn’t want someone to love her enough, I do, and I need to know if it’s too much.

“Austin … ” she says, clearly still shocked. “I was just thinking about how mad I was that you weren’t responding to my text.”

“I know,” I tell her.

“You’re here,” she says.

“I know.”

Scarlett walks over to me a little slower than I’d like. “I’ve only been gone a day,” she says.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t understand,” she says.

“I have refused to chase anyone. I have refused to follow, get too close, or allow myself to fall in love with anyone. I’ve been too scared of the pain that could come along with it all. I’ve been scarred from what love can do to a person and I’ve never let myself even find out what love feels like until now, but I see why someone would do just about anything to show how they feel. Words aren’t enough, but if this is too much, I understand, and I can leave.”

“I—” she says, seeming at a loss for words.

“Everything in my head said not to come here and wait outside of your interview like some lovesick weirdo, but I ignored it all and came anyway.”

She’s not saying anything but she’s still inching toward me. “You’re in a suit,” she says with a little smile. Her hands yank on the lapels of my jacket. “I didn’t even know you owned a suit.” She gently runs her fingers through the sides of my hair. “You did your hair too.”

“I needed to fit in with you city folk.”

“You look like the reason I’d want to have a messy office desk that I could clear off with a sweep of my arm,” she says.

“You look like the reason I would have already done that,” I tell her. “Scarlett, if you want to take a job and stay here, I’ll come be with you if you allow me to. There are a lot of hospitals hiring up here and I’m sure I could find something.”

“Wow,” she says. I don’t know if that’s a good wow or a bad wow.

“I like your lipstick,” I tell her. It’s dark red and makes her eyes glow and her teeth whiter than white. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“You’d stay here for me?” She asks.

“I’d go anywhere for you.”

“What about your dad’s farm?”

“It ain’t going nowhere,” I tell her.

“Wait. Where’s Waldo?” she asks.

No shit. She said it. Holy crap. Yes. Yes. Yes. “Thank you, Scarlett. Thank you,” I say with all the seriousness in the world.

“What? Why are you thanking me?”

“I named that dog Waldo because I thought everyone would be asking where he was all the time. Now he’s eight years old, and not one person has ever asked me where he is until now.”

She closes her eyes and nods her head, looking like she’s trying not to laugh. “I guess this is a Cinderella story in the making then, huh?” she asks.

“Well, that would make me the poor guy,” I tell her.

“Until you found the girl who asked you where your dog was … ” she continues.

“What are you saying?” I ask.

“You’re crazy,” she says, finally letting the laughter out.

Scarlett takes my hand and leads me down the stairs. We walk quickly across the sidewalk and over three blocks until we reach a park. “Again, you’re running in heels, Scarlett? Do you ever learn?”

“I can run in heels here. It’s your silly streets I can’t run on.” She brings me up to a small cluster of trees and pushes me against one. “Kiss me,” she says.

The thought of her lipstick covering my face turns me on and we’re in the middle of a goddamn park, dressed in office clothes, but I think she likes it when my head is spinning out of control. I lean down and kiss her, inhaling her sweet perfume and minty breath. I wrap my arms around her back, feeling her warm skin radiate through her thin blouse. “Are you trying to kill me?” I ask, pulling away for a second.

“Why would I do that?” She asks.

“You still haven’t told me if you got the job.”

“You didn’t ask. Plus, does it matter right this second?” she asks. I want to say yes, but it doesn’t. I’ve decided I want to be with her, and I think by the way things are going at the moment, she’s on the same page. “You know how you said love can’t be described in words?”

“Yeah, it can’t,” I agree.

“Neither can commitment.” This woman is a mind-fuck. That’s what she is. The hottest mind-fuck I’ve ever met.

“I don’t know what that means,” I tell her.

“It means, I don’t want to plan out tomorrow. I just want to live today.”

Her words knock the wind out of me, and I don’t know why. It’s not anything prolific, but it makes so much sense. I’m not sure why I’ve never thought like that before. I’ve been so consumed with what I should do or shouldn’t do, or who to ignore, who to avoid, and who not to be that I stopped thinking about what I’m doing in the moment.

“You want to live without commitment,” I confirm.

“No, dummy. I want to live without an expectation for tomorrow.”

“How will you plan things?”

“The way I always have,” she barely explains.

“Basically, what you’re saying is, you don’t want a happy ending.”

“Actually, I’m saying the exact opposite. If I focus on being happy in the moment, I know no matter what, I’ll have a happy ending.”

“There’s a song about you, Scarlett.”

“What’s that?” She says, fidgeting with buttons on my shirt.

“Freebird.” I laugh.

“That’s me,” she says, quietly, with a small smile.

“I want to ask you so many things, but they’re only relevant to the future and not for this moment,” I say, more for my own understanding than hers. Avoiding the thought of anything past this moment is a hard way to think, but I’ll try it for her.

“It’s the best way to keep learning about each other, don’t you think?”

“You’re brilliant,” I tell her.

“Will you still think that after I bring you into a wild house with two arguing men?” she asks.

“Oh no, what’s going on?” I ask.

“It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” I tell her.

“No, you don’t,” she says.

I give her a look, making my confusion clear. She takes my hand yet again, and tugs me along. “Listen here, darlin’. I know you don’t like to be out of control, but I don’t either, so why don’t you go ahead and tell me what we’re doing?”

“Do you trust me?” she asks.

“No,” I laugh.

“Yes, you do.”

“It’s really questionable,” I argue.

“You won’t question me in a minute.”

We enter an area filled with gardens of flowers. “Who would have thought you know what flowers look like up here?”

“What did you think it was like up here?” she questions.

“A desert with buildings.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she says.

“Yeah because you definitely had clear expectations of what Blytheville would be like,” I remind her. If I recall, she spent the first two days making fun of everything around her when she arrived in South Carolina.

We keep walking, going deeper into a maze of vines and roses, encasing us between a cluster of tall shrubberies. “It’s going to rain soon,” she says.

“It looks like it should have started raining about fifteen minutes ago. It’s all I smell,” I tell her. Almost as soon as I say the word rain, big, fat droplets start to fall. We can hear people running around outside of the enclosed garden area we’re hidden in. “I already know you like the rain, if that’s what you’re trying to show me.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to show you,” she says. “I like the rain, but most people don’t like to sit in it. Not here, anyway.”

“I can understand why,” I tell her. She takes my jacket within her fists and pulls it down my arms. “What are you doin’?”

“Shh,” she says.

She places my coat down on the bench behind us and starts working at my tie, which is off in a matter of seconds. The buttons on my shirt are next and I’m now standing here half naked in between several rose bushes. No one is around or can see us, but the thought of public indecency runs through my head briefly until her hands move to my belt. With her lip bitten between her teeth, she whips the leather from the belt loops. Oh, dear God. Scarlett’s fingers unclasp my pants, and I’m now done sitting around in shock. I nearly rip the buttons off her shirt, and it takes all my self-control to prevent myself from doing just that, but I know she has to be able to dress decently enough to make it back to where she’s staying. I kneel and sweep my hands up the sides of her legs, latching my thumbs onto the sides of her lace panties that I slide down to her ankles. She steps out of them and I place them with the rest of the clothing on the bench. I press her skirt up and release myself from my boxer briefs. It’s pouring rain, I can hardly see anything, and her body is slick from what must be lotion.

With clothing hanging off us, she lays down on the bench and closes her eyes as the rain continues to pound down on us. I kneel down and kiss up her thigh, knowing we don’t have a whole lot of time for foreplay here. In any case, I trace my tongue up the center of her thighs, kissing her where there’s a pulse begging for more attention. She’s crying softly, but her sounds mingle with the drops of rain hitting the surrounding stone-lined path. I’m so hot for her right now, I can’t keep going like this without being a little selfish. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the condom I thankfully slipped in there this morning with the hope of Scarlett not running from me. I tear the wrapper and slip the condom on while switching up my position. I place a knee on one side of her body and rest my chest on hers, using my other leg for leverage and momentum. I run my hands up her wet chest, squeezing her perfectly perky breasts that are covered in nothing but a thin silk. Her nipples harden against my touch and I feel a hunger and thirst work through me as I kiss every inch of her body, while feeling her world envelop mine in every other way. The warmth the rain is bringing me, is strangely surreal. It shouldn’t be comforting, but it’s like bliss.

We go on for longer than I thought we could, but she’s moaning and grabbing her breasts. Dammit it to hell, how did I get this luck? I’m taking every free inch there is and climbing up her body with a tight grip. “You’re unreal,” I tell her.

“Rain, sex, you. Nothing else matters,” she says, breathlessly. “Rain sex. I want rain sex every day for the rest of my life.”

Her words bring me to the finish line and I rest on top of her, kissing her cheek with soft pecks. “You just said you want rain sex every day for the rest of your life. What happened to just thinkin’ of today?”

“I changed my mind,” she says.

“You can’t just change your mind after trying to sound philosophical.”

“Do you want more rain sex?” she asks.

“Obviously. It’s the only kind of sex I want now.”

“Then I can change my mind,” she says.

“All right, but only this once.”