Page 34 of Pretty Wild

Cold. Water.

And just as I hit the lake, I hear the sound of another splash. The moment I come up for air, I see Ryan’s arms flailing about as she bellows for help. I swim toward her, my hands wrapping around her slender waist. “Are you all right?”

She gasps and sputters. “What the hell happened?”

“We fell in,” I deadpan.

“I know that, but why?” she screams, kicking her feet. “Oh my God, this water is nasty!”

I look for Buddy, who’s still in the boat, tail wagging and tongue hanging, ready to play too. He’s jumping around, and I can read his intent all over his face. “No, Buddy. Stay.” The last thing I need is to retrieve a dog from the lake too.

I give Ryan a gentle shove toward the boat, helping make sure she stays afloat. “Come on, Princess. Up you go.”

She grabs the side of the boat and hoists herself up as I push. She’s not graceful, but I’m not sure you really can be at this point. When she falls onto the bottom of the boat, I prepare to pull myself up. “Ryan, move to the other side. We need some counterweight.”

She rolls over, Buddy practically jumping on top of her, thinking it’s time to play. When she’s on the opposite side, I grab hold of the boat and pull. I fall just as gracefully into the boat and sigh.

“I can’t believe that happened. It was in my mouth, Marcus.”

It takes me a moment to catch up, and even though I realize she’s talking about the water, I laugh. Hard. Full belly, lying on the bottom of the boat and unable to catch my breath, laugh.

And do you know what?

It feels good.

Even better, Ryan joins in and laughs along with me. Of course, it could be crying I hear, but I’m pretty sure she’s laughing.

“Come on, Princess. That’s enough fishing for today.”

She turns, sopping wet and still looking absolutely breathtaking. “You know, I think I’m done fishing.”

“For today?”

She pins me with a look. “Forever, buster. For. Ever.”

11

RYAN

My teeth are chattering as we head back to the cabin. Even though the air is still warm and the sun is shining high in the sky, being soaked to the bones doesn’t feel good. I’m cold and dripping water all over Marcus’s grandpa’s truck. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about climbing inside while we were both wet, but we didn’t have a choice. It’s not like we can walk home. Instead, he quickly loaded the boat onto the trailer, secured everything in the truck bed, and took off for home.

The wild part about all of this is despite falling into the nasty lake water, having swallowed a big gulp of it that’ll probably give me some sort of bacterial infection, and having my nipples poke through my bra and tank top because it’sthatcold, all of a sudden I really want to kiss him.

It was hard not to throw myself at him when we were fishing. Not while I was putting the nasty worm on the hook and not while he was trying to get me to hold the fish, but in between. There were some moments where our eyes connected, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world. Even when he was asking about California.

Then, the whole falling out of the boat fiasco happened, and he’s barely said two words since. Well, after he laughed, that is. And if I’m being honest with myself, it was the best sound in the world. His laughter sparked my own, and it was as if I’d never really laughed before. It felt…liberating.

But now, here we are, driving home and barely speaking. I can’t tell if he’s mad at me, the situation, or maybe a little of both. He uses fishing as his outlet, a way to unwind, and falling into the lake and soaking ourselves doesn’t exactly scream relaxation. In fact, quite the opposite. Especially when Buddy decided he wanted to go for a swim too and ended up jumping in after Marcus and I got ourselves back in the boat. Well, I didn’t get myself back in. He used brute strength and threw me in.

And I didn’t hate it.

Not even a little.

His hands on my hips sparked ideas of his hands onotherparts of my body, and while being wet is hot, looking like a drowned rat isn’t. And despite the fact there’s all sorts of thick tension surrounding us right now, all I can think about is getting a shower. Cleaning the lake off my body. Putting on dry clothes.

I rest my hand on Buddy’s wet head and sigh. Even the dog can tell there’s extra tension riding shotgun with us. He shifts between us, having a hard time getting comfortable on the small section of seat he’s given. I try to scoot closer to the window, but that just makes the wind feel colder and stronger, so I remain where I sit.

When we finally reach the lane that leads to the cabins, the air inside the cab is almost suffocating. Not only that, but it smells like wet dog and fish, two aromas I can confidently say I never want to smell again in the same small space.

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