Page 35 of Pretty Wild

We pass Marcus’s driveway and turn onto mine. I guess that’s something. At least he’s not going to drive straight to his house and expect me to walk the rest of the way back to mycabin, sopping wet. Under the cover of trees, that would have been a cold, miserable little jaunt, and as uncomfortable as this ride is, I’m grateful for it.

Marcus swings the truck and trailer wide, stopping in front of the porch steps. I reach for the handle and practically jump out. “Thanks for the ride,” I holler politely, shutting the heavy, old door hard. I bolt up the steps, anxious to get away from his broodiness. He’s already moving, heading back the way we came, before I even have the security code in the door.

I step inside and toss my clutch purse onto the couch. Thank goodness I left it locked in the truck while we were fishing. Marcus had his wallet with him, but it was in a little waterproof lockbox he keeps in the boat. Otherwise, it would have suffered the same fate as we did. I try to picture the contents of my clutch soaking wet, or worse, scattered on the bottom of the lake bed, and I’m so grateful nothing but us got wet.

But it was an accident.

He’s the one who thrust the dang fish at me, expecting me to grab and hold it. In what crazy universe would he expect anyone—especially me—to just be okay with that? Of course I jumped back! Of course I screamed! Of course I did what I could to get away from the fish! So if it’s anyone’s fault we fell into the lake, it’s his!

The more I think about his silence, the more annoyedIget. I didn’t do it on purpose, and itwasmy first time fishing, so why is he mad at me?I’mthe one who should be upset, not him.

Without thinking, I spin around and walk out the door. I don’t bother to lock the entrance, but I doubt it’ll be an issue. I’ve been here three days and the only visitor I’ve had is the grumpy landlord.

I take off for the pathway clearing and stomp through the woods. Am I cold? Yep! Do I wish I would have at least put ona dry pair of panties? Abso-fucking-lutely! But I’m not letting some wet underwear keep me from letting the big jerk have it.

When I reach the clearing, I spot the truck. It’s back behind the garage, dropping the boat and trailer into its spot. So that’s where I head. As I approach, Buddy either senses me or hears me, and trots in my direction, carrying a stick. I want to bend down and give him a little pet, but I’m on a mission.

“You have no right to just drop me off and then leave without saying a word. It was your fault we fell into the stupid water to begin with,” I seethe the moment I reach where he’s standing.

Even though he’s bending down, turning some handle on the trailer to raise the tongue, he tenses. Slowly, he releases the handle and stands to his full height. For some reason, he appears taller than normal, like a big sopping wet ogre. His shirt is plastered to his hard chest and arms, and the moment he turns, I catch the hint of dark ink beneath his gray T-shirt. Not to mention, his jeans are practically painted on his legs. I can see the outline of everything—and I do mean everything.

With his ball cap on backward, I can see the hard lines and rigid features on his too-handsome face as he narrows his gaze at me. “My fault?”

“Yes, your fault,” I insist, taking a step forward. My finger automatically jumps out, poking him square in the hard chest. “You practically threw a fish at me! Not only is it rude and very ungentlemanly, but it’s disgusting. So, the fact I jumped back and rocked the boat is clearly your fault.”

He snorts and inches closer. My fingernail digs into the wet material of his shirt and the skin underneath it, but it must not bother him much, since he doesn’t move. “Ungentlemanly?”

“I said what I said, buster.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk and his eyes seem to dance with humor. “Well, that’s a first.”

I bark out a laugh, but it lacks any humor. “I seriously doubt that. You’ve been nothing but grumpy and brash this entire time.”

He gets even closer, his lips dangerously close to my own. “You bring it out of me, Princess.”

“You’re nastiness?”

“My ungentlemanliness.”

“Same thing,” I insist, throwing my hands in the air. “Here I was, trying to be nice and getting to know you better, but nooooooo, you have just been all…difficult.”

He laughs hard. Again, he moves a hair closer, his lips practically touching my own. I can feel the warmth of his breath against me and almost reach out and wrap my arms around his waist. “If you want difficult, honey, you better look in the mirror.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” he asks, just as his right hand wraps around my waist. I can feel the heat of his palm through my wet clothes, searing my flesh with his touch. “What you see is what you get.”

I lift my chin, almost daring him. To do what? I’m not sure yet, but I think I have a list. We can start with strip off our wet clothes and running those full, kissable lips across every inch of my body.

“So, what do you want, Princess?”

Isn’t that the loaded question? What do I want? Again, there’s the list, and it’s growing longer by the second. “I want…”

Just say it.

“I want…you to kiss me. Like you mean it.”

If my request surprises him, he doesn’t show it. He watches me, studying me for a few seconds before doing exactly as I asked. He kisses me.

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