Help Wanted: Mafe Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2020 Cooper McKenzie

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0131-8

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To Michael Wayne Foster, actor, model, and kind, thoughtful, gentleman who allowed me to “use” him in a book.

  HELP WANTED: MAFE

  Red Hot Mafes, 1

  Cooper McKenzie

  Copyright © 2020

  Chapter One

  Mafe: A man-wife who willingly does the cooking, cleaning, and laundry while supporting his woman while she chases her dreams.

  “I’m sorry, Brenna, I just don’t have time for a girls’ night out,” Harper Ellis said as soon as Brenna Walker walked across the street separating their houses. As usual, her best friend since second grade looked put together and fabulous while she looked like something a dog wouldn’t drag into the house. “If I don’t get the yard finished before the Homeowner’s Association inspection team comes by tomorrow, I’ll get written up, again. And this time they’ll fine me a hundred dollars. A hundred dollars I don’t really have.”

  Though an evening of eating, drinking, and forgetting responsibilities as she reconnected with her lifelong best friend might be just what she needed, Harper wasn’t lying about not having any time for such frivolity. Between keeping up with Miranda, her too-smart, precocious five-year-old daughter, running her rapidly growing dress-designing and stuffed-animal-making business, and keeping their five-bedroom home from falling down around them, she truly didn’t have a minute to spare. If she ever got caught up with her always lengthening to-do list, Harper had promised herself she would catch up on sleep. Four hours a night for weeks on end just wasn’t enough.

  Even now, the sun was setting. It was getting darker by the minute, but here she was, outside, sweating through her clothes as she finished cutting the grass in ninety-plus degree weather. The push mower she used to add a bit of cardio exercise to her week didn’t make enough noise to bother the neighbors, but was taking forever to finish because she had waited three extra days to cut it and the grass was thick and bushy.

  As had been her way since the day they had met the first day of second grade, Brenna would not be denied. “We’re not doing girls’ night out. We’re doing girls’ night in. Now, come inside, take a cool shower, and put on your comfy clothes. I’ll deal with the fairy princess, fix the drinks and snacks, and queue up the movie. You need a break.”

  Harper looked across the front lawn and sighed. She really did need a girls’ night. It had been forever since she’d taken a night off to do nothing. It might be just what she needed to charge up her enthusiasm for life. “Give me fifteen minutes to finish up out here, and I’ll be in.”

  Brenna stared at her with narrowed eyes until Harper shifted uneasily. Finally, her best friend nodded. “All right, fifteen minutes. If you’re not inside by then I’m sending the munchkin out to take over.”

  Just the thought of her tiny daughter trying to push the mower had Harper getting back to work. “I don’t think so,” she said with a chuckle.

  Twelve minutes later, Harper finished rinsing off the lawn mower and pushed it into the garage. After hitting the button to lower the oversized garage door, she stopped at the door that led from the garage into the kitchen. Crossing that task off her endless to-do list, Harper made a mental note to do it again in a week.

  With a sigh of exhausted accomplishment, she toed off the ancient, grass-stained sneakers that she wore for yardwork. She pushed them under the bench she had bought for just this purpose shortly after she and Miranda had moved into the house three years before. It was a bench her father had been talking about building every spring for the thirty years the family had lived in the house. She had bought the house from her parents, who had moved to a retirement community in Florida.

  Entering the kitchen, Harper listened for a few seconds but heard only a soft murmur of a voice. The cartoons Miranda had been watching when she’d gone out to cut the grass were no longer filling the house with sound. Crossing the kitchen, she peeked into the living room. The television was off, and Brenna was reading aloud from her tablet. Miranda was curled around her green and purple monster stuffie with her head resting on Brenna’s thigh. Her daughter looked nearly asleep.

  Moving as quietly as she could, Harper walked to the couch. She bent and brushed a kiss on Miranda’s temple. “Ready for bed, baby?” she whispered.

  Her daughter blinked and turned her head just enough to look up at her. The little girl pulled a face and whispered, “Mommy, you smell yucky. Go take your bath.”

  Harper could only laugh at her daughter’s honesty. “Yes, ma’am. I just wanted to say good night. When Brenna finishes reading this story, you go right to bed, okay?”

  “Uh-huh, ’kay.” Miranda sighed as she settled deeper into the couch. “Read more, Aunt Brenna. Mommy, go get unyucky.”

  Straightening, Harper met her best friend’s amused gaze. “She’s right. You do smell yucky,” Brenna said. “Go clean up. I’ll get her to bed.”

  After kissing her daughter’s temple one last time, Harper left them to finish their story.

  Twenty minutes later, she returned to the living room. She was clean and dressed in her favorite, somewhat ragged, flannel pajama bottoms with crescent moons and stars on them, and a tank top with a badass unicorn glaring out from the front. She had stopped by Miranda’s room to make sure her daughter was sound asleep in her bed, which she was. Henry, the purple and green monster stuffie, guarded her from the pillow beside her head.

  Brenna was in the living room, waiting for her. A tall shot glass of amber liquid and a bottle of her favorite hard apple cider waited on the small table beside the couch for her. The television was on but currently silent, the evening’s movie ready to roll.

  Harper settled into her corner of the extra-long leather couch. Pulling her legs up, she curled them under her and got comfortable before asking, “So what are we watching tonight?”

  “We have a lineup of perfect men movies. I thought we’d start with The Princess Bride, then Dirty Dancing, and if you’re still awake after that, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Harper said as the oven timer started beeping. “Do you want me to get that?”

  Brenna jumped up and headed to the kitchen doorway as she waved for Harper to remain where she was. “No, drink your shot and relax. Tonight, I’m here to wait on you.”

  “Now that sounds like heaven,” Harper said on a weary sigh.

  She picked up the shot and downed half of it in one swallow. The cinnamon whiskey burned so good as it flowed down to her stomach. After catching her breath, she threw back the rest before returning the empty shot glass to the table beside her. As she did, Harper sniffed the air, trying to disseminate what Brenna was cooking.

  “Did you eat lunch?” Brenna asked as she entered the room carrying one of Harper’s mother’s oversized antique platters in one hand, and a smaller plate with a number of ramekin bowls on it in the other.

  Harper frowned as she tried to think back through the day that had started well before daybreak. “Umm, I think so.”

  “I’ll take that as a no, so you wi
ll graze on this, eat all you can, and not feel guilty. Tonight, calories don’t count,” Brenna said as she set the plates on the coffee table.

  The women ended up pulling the large pillows from the pile in the corner Miranda used to flop on the floor with to the couch. They sat on them as they munched and caught up on each other’s lives and watched one of their favorite movies. By the end of the movie, Harper was relaxed, exhausted, and, after finishing a second shot and hard apple cider, unable to argue when Brenna said, “You need a man like Westley in your life.”

  “No, what I need is a wife. Someone to cook and clean and help take care of Miranda without making me feel bad because I am a strong woman building a successful business.”

  “Oh, so you need a mafe,” Brenna said.

  “A mafe? What’s a mafe?”

  Brenna chuckled then said, “A man-wife, of course. A man who’s not afraid to pull his weight around the house, outside the bedroom as well as in the bed.”

  “A man-wife, a mafe. I like it. Yes, I need a mafe,” Harper agreed with words that were beginning to slur around the edges. She was so relaxed that she hardly paid attention when Brenna pulled out her tablet and started typing.

  “So, what other sterling qualities would you like in your mafe?”

  “Someone who can do the laundry correctly. Which means to wash, dry, fold, and put a load away, all in the same day. Someone who can cook dinner without using the barbecue for everything and without causing food poisoning. Someone who can deal with Miranda in all her crazy wild child moods,” Harper said honestly.

  She then sighed deeply before exposing the deepest wishes of her heart. “Someone who can help carry the load, share the troubled times as well as the happy times. A man who doesn’t expect me to be the sole provider of finances as well as everything else around the house. And, if he’s hot, sexy, and great in bed, all the better, but I guess that’s only if we grow into a long-term relationship. Otherwise, I guess I just keep on having my regular dates with BOB.”

  Harper giggled at the mental image of a faceless man sleeping in bed next to her while she got off with her battery-operated boyfriend. Brenna joined her and in seconds, they both were laughing their asses off.

  “Maybe we should go shopping on Fetish,” Brenna suggested once they settled and Harper took a long draw on her drink.

  “For a mafe? I don’t think there’s a help wanted mafe column. I tried looking for a man once, but the men advertising for women on Fetish kinda scare me. Plus, they’re looking for a sexy playmate for now, not a relationship-type woman for the long term,” Harper admitted softly before she yawned widely. “I’m afraid the other movies are going to have to wait until next time. You got me drunk and now I need some sleep.”

  Brenna nodded without an argument, which was unusual for her night-owl friend. Harper yawned again, too tired to question her as to why. After the two women cleaned up the living room, rinsed the dishes, and loaded them in the dishwasher, Brenna hugged her.

  “Get some rest. I’m going to find you a mafe,” Brenna whispered before heading out the front door.

  After locking the front door and checking the back door to make sure it was secure as well, Harper prowled the first floor. She turned off the lights as she headed upstairs. She had just enough energy to brush her teeth and strip off her pants, leaving her in cotton panties with pandas on them and her unicorn shirt. Tossing back the covers, she curled up in the middle of the king-size mattress.

  She was asleep before the covers fully settled over her body.

  Chapter Two

  Foster Michaels was bored. Beyond bored, whatever that might be. Bored with his life to the point he didn’t know how he was going to keep trudging his way through it. He felt too old for his thirty-three-years and wondered how he would keep going for the next fifty or sixty years until he died of natural causes.

  He needed a new challenge, a new goal, a new dream for his future.

  He needed a woman in his life.

  He needed to find a place of his own that was more than two rooms with a month-to-month rental agreement.

  Between the money he had saved during his time as a wartime paramedic in the Air Force and the inheritance from his grandparents, Foster was financially set for life. He had left the military six months earlier and had taken a job as a paramedic in town, but had quit that last week because twenty-four hour on/forty-eight off shifts sucked and his co-workers didn’t appreciate his screaming PTSD nightmares when he was finally able to fall asleep.

  So, now unemployed and bored, here he sat on a Sunday night, lying in bed and scrolling through the women-seeking-men ads on a sexy community website, looking for something.

  Or rather someone.

  He doubted the virtue of woman he’d dreamed about even belonged to such a site, but he had to do something to end the relationship desert he’d been wallowing in.

  He hadn’t had a serious relationship in two years and was no longer interested in one-night stands. He had to admit, at least to himself, he felt lonely as well as bored. But could there be a woman looking for a war-weary, PTSD-ridden, too-caring veteran for more than a night or two?

  He continued scrolling until a posting that was only a couple of hours old caught his eye.

  MAFE WANTED.

  ****

  Three days later, Foster sat at the bar in one of the local chain eateries in town, nursing a glass of ice water as he watched the door for his “date” to walk in. At least, he thought it was a date, but maybe it was just a job interview. Especially since he still didn’t exactly know what this “mafe” was the woman was looking for.

  If it was a job interview, he wouldn’t make much of an impression in jeans, a tan Henley shirt, and black cowboy boots. Though after reading the ad a couple hundred times over the past few days, and texting back and forth with Brenna, the woman who had placed the notice “for her friend,” he wasn’t sure what to expect.

  This was the first time he’d ever been tempted to answer a Fetish ad, and when he told her, Brenna admitted this was her first time placing one. She had also shared that she was happily married and the stepmother of two teenagers from her husband’s first marriage and had placed the ad for her best friend who was in serious need of a mafe.

  Checking his phone, which lay on the bar by his drink, he saw there were still five minutes before their agreed-upon appointment time. Even if nothing else came of the evening, Foster was determined to find out what a mafe was. Brenna had promised to tell him once he met her friend, whose name he couldn’t remember.

  His gaze was drawn to the front door when it opened and two laughing women came in at two minutes after their meeting time. The blonde scanned the room while the dark-haired one talked to the hostess, who greeted them as if they were either longtime friends or regular customers.

  The blonde looked at him and mouthed, “Foster?” with a raised eyebrow.

  He nodded and stood as the two women followed the hostess to a table in the corner of the bar area that was separated from the dining area by a short wall.

  The blonde was obviously Brenna, the person he had been texting back and forth with.

  Foster then turned his attention to the brunette. He took his time looking the woman up and down as she followed her friend to the table. She was taller than her friend, but still much shorter than his own six and a half feet tall. He thought she might be round and curvy, but it was hard to tell. Her top hung on her, disguising rather than emphasizing her curves.

  He liked that she was dressed casually in leggings and knee-high boots to go with the oversized shirt. Her dark-brown hair was caught up in a messy bun high on the back of her head. He allowed himself a moment to wish her hair was loose so he could see how long it was. He loved to play with long hair on a woman.

  His cock twitched as he scanned down and then back up her body to focus on her face. Her features were fine, her nose slim, her chin pointy, making him think of the elves on the Hobbit movies. When she turned her
head, he was almost disappointed to see that the top of her ear wasn’t pointy, but was small and round. The lobe boasted two earrings, a small silver hoop earring and a small silver ball. He wondered for a few seconds what other secrets her clothes hid.

  A tramp stamp on her lower back? Or maybe a clit piercing? Something about the woman said that there was a lot more to her than it appeared.

  Grabbing his phone off the bar, Foster left his glass of water behind and stalked toward the high-top table. “Good evening, ladies,” he said in his most casual, non-threatening manner.

  Brenna smiled at him as she climbed onto a stool, while the other woman whirled to look up at him. In seconds, her expression raced from fear through shock to shy interest before she blinked and blanked her expression.

  “Oh, my,” she breathed as she took a step back, bumping into her chair and having to dance a little jig to maintain her balance.

  He grabbed her arm to keep her from tripping over the chair as it fell to the ground. “Foster Michaels, mafe applicant,” he said with a grin. He waited until she was steady on her feet before releasing her arm. He picked up the fallen chair before offering his right hand.

  “Harper Ellis,” the woman said, still sounding a little off-balance.

  She shook his hand with a firm business-like handshake, which impressed him. The tingling warmth that flowed between their palms had his cock twitching with interest.

  “Are you all right?” he asked when she simply stared up at him.

  “You’ll have to excuse, Harper. She’s out of practice when it comes to talking to men,” Brenna said from her seat. “Girlfriend, let go of the man and sit down.”

  Harper blinked then glanced down at their hands, which were still moving up and down in a long, drawn-out handshake. Then she looked at her friend and squeaked. She immediately released his hand, pulling her right hand around behind her back.