Page 15 of Pretty Wild

5

MARCUS

My phone chimes with an alert. Pulling up the message from the rental management company, I shake my head.

Arrow Rentals Management

Received a call from your renter. One of the windows is broken. How would you like us to proceed?

I sigh and close my eyes. These are the times I wish I didn’t bother with renting my grandparents’ old cabin. It’s not like I need the extra income or anything. The old place is paid for, but the rental income covers the property taxes and for the most part, I rarely have to deal with issues. I keep the cabin well-maintained in between renters, and block out days, weeks, and sometimes months when I don’t have time to deal with the extra responsibility. But I try to keep the cabin open from Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day weekend. It’s the busiest tourist season, and if we ever have a cancellation, it’s usually filled right away.

Which is what happened with Ryan.

I had just received notification the previous renter cancelled their reservation, and it seemed just minutes later, I was emailed a new agreement for a new renter. Because my cabin is promoted for long-term rentals with a seven-day minimum commitment, I don’t get any weekend stays. You know, the party boys who want to get away for a couple nights, drink beer until they’re fall-down drunk, and tear up anything in their path. Logan had a problem with renters like that and eventually removed his cabin from the rental agency. Now, he and Hallie keep it for their own use, and let our friends use it too.

My mind flashes back to the text I received. What could have happened to the window? Was Ryan hurt? Did she cut herself somehow?

I fire off a quick reply as I head for the door.

Me

I’ll go check it out.

Arrow Rentals Management

Thank you. Let us know if you need anything.

My agreement with Arrow is they try to contact me first. If it’s something I can fix and have time, I take care of it. If not, they’ll dispatch the appropriate repair person to take care of the problem.

I bypass the tow truck and head for my garage. Jumping onto my Honda Rancher four-wheeler, I rev it up and take off toward my rental. The dirt roads are dry and leave a trail of dust in my wake as I head toward the path that leads me to the cabin.

When I get close to the clearing, I back off the speed and slowly creep into the yard. Parking the machine beside Ryan’s rental SUV, I hop off and make my way toward the old, screen door and knock. The main door is open, the warm breezeblowing through the cabin. It takes only a moment before she appears.

“Oh. Hi.” She seems surprised to see me.

“Hey, the agency told me there’s a broken window?” I ask, glancing around.

“Yes, well, the one in the bedroom,” she informs me, walking over and releasing the lock on the door.

I pull it open and step inside, the scent of fresh air and flowers filling the space. Taking a quick stock of her surroundings, making sure everything is all right, I follow behind her to the master bedroom. As soon as we step inside, I swear her scent is overpowering and the air seems to be sucked out of the room. It’s like some Ryan-induced vacuum, and my eyes immediately move to the bed.

Bad idea.

Now all I can picture is her wrapped up in my grandma’s quilt, her long, naked limbs sliding against the sheets, her long, blond hair fanning out against the pillow.

“Marcus?”

I startle, ripped from my own head like I’m doused in cold water. Removing my ball cap, I lift it up, run my fingers through my hair and replace the hat on my head. “Yeah. Sorry. Which window is broken?” I ask, turning my attention to the glass panes.

“This one,” she says, walking over and grabbing the ledge. “It won’t move.” She pulls up, but the window doesn’t budge.

All I can do is stare at it. “They said a window was broken.”

She huffs. “Itisbroken. It won’t open.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “It’s not broken,” I mutter, walking over to the window and giving it a tug. It’s tight and doesn’t move easily, but I get the window up, nonetheless. “There.”

Her eyes narrow and she crosses her arms over her chest. It’s the first time I realize she changed out of the blue dress she was wearing earlier. Now, her toned, tanned legs are on full display, since she’s donning a pair of denim cutoffs and a fitted pink tank top. “You barely got that up. You had to turn all Hulk on it. How do you expect me to get it open?” she asks, tapping her bare foot on the hardwood floor as she waits for my reply.

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