Page 39 of Pretty Wild

“Wow,” Ryan whispers, stepping into the open space. With her hand on the railing, she moves into my bedroom, taking it all in. I can’t help but realize she’s one of the very few women to ever be in this room.

I stand back and watch her. She slowly walks to the bed, a king-size masterpiece I handmade when I built this cabin. It’s rustic, made from old barn wood from the original barn beside my grandparents’ cabin. It suffered severe damage from a tree falling on it when I was in high school and ended up being torn down and replaced.

“Closet’s the first door on the right and bathroom the second.”

She walks over to the closet, places her hand on the knob, and grins. I don’t stop her, so she turns the handle and steps inside. “Holy shitballs!”

I can’t help but chuckle.

Her head pokes out, her eyes wide as she meets my gaze. “This is…huge!”

I shrug, knowing I fill very little of it. When I say I’m a simple man, I mean it.

She returns inside. “I could totally fill this bad boy,” she says, and even though I know she’s not meaning literally, right now, my heart skips a beat at the idea.

When she makes her way out of the closet, she shakes her head. “Did you use an interior designer? Because most closets don’t have anything more than a shelf and a basic hanging bar. Butthatis perfect.”

“Hallie helped me,” I state with a shrug.

“Well, she has an amazing sense of style. She really used the space to its full potential.”

“It’s the same size as the bathroom. When I built it, it was just easier to divide the whole space in half.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait, you built this? Like…the whole thing?”

“Well, not the shell. I paid a contractor to pour the basement, do the entire outside of the cabin, and all the support beams outside. I did the inside.”

Her mouth drops open. “Yourself?”

Again, I shrug my shoulders. “I had help. My friends would come over, especially Logan. He owns the lumberyard and hardware store in town, so he helped a lot.”

She looks around the room once more. “I can’t believe you built this.”

Feeling uncomfortable with the kudos, I say, “It wasn’t too hard. My grandpa was great with his hands. Not only as a mechanic, but he could build about anything. He taught me a lot and helped through the whole process.”

She looks around the lofted room with the high ceilings and exposed beams. “Wow, I guess, I’ve never really known anyone who actually does the building. I’ve seen some amazing architecture, but I suppose never really thought much of the build.” She gives me a look I can’t decipher and turns her attention to the bathroom. With a wide grin, she heads straight for the doorway and walks inside.

“Oh my God!” she bellows from within. “I don’t know which I love more, the closet or the bathroom.”

That makes me smile, because personally, I love the bathroom. I put a lot of extra work into the shower, since it’s one of the most-used spots upstairs, and there’s nothing better than a long, hot shower after a day of work. Especially in my line of work. But I can see the attraction for a woman like Ryan. The soaker tub was something Hallie pushed for, claiming most women would lose their minds—and their panties—for a chance to sit in the tub. Personally, I find it gross to sit in my own filth, but whatever. And chances are slim to none that a woman willever be here long enough to enjoy the very tub Hallie insisted I get.

But I can see Ryan sitting in there, the jets creating bubbles around her glorious breasts as she leans back and relaxes.

In fact, that just might be one of my fantasies.

“Wow, Marcus,” she starts, returning from the bathroom. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting all this.”

“All what?” I inquire, even though I pretty much know what she’s going to say. People have been making assumptions and underestimating me my entire life, thanks to the fact I’m just a small-town grease monkey raised by his grandparents. Just because I don’t mind getting my hands dirty doesn’t mean I can’t do anything else. I’m good with my hands, period, and that includes small or large construction projects.

“Such a lovely home. Not that your cabin isn’t beautiful from the outside, but there’s no…I don’t know, woman’s touch? Flowers or landscaping or those little garden welcome flags. But the inside, while sparsely decorated, has beautiful bones and features. It’s like a woman, sometimes they just need a little makeup and skincare products to enhance their natural beauty.”

I watch her, noting the passion filling her eyes at even the mention of makeup. I may not understand the obsession some get with makeup, but I can certainly respect her take on it. It seems like she’s not just out to make millions of dollars, peddling crappy product. If what she’s wearing is from her own line and her videos teach women how to apply it tastefully and without looking like it was done with a paintbrush and a putty knife, then good for her.

She walks toward me, that glint in her eyes darkening. It makes my cock jump in my jeans. “I bet the women are lining up to use that tub,” she says when she reaches me. Her manicured nails dance across my pecs.

I shrug my shoulders, trying not to be a total douche and just stare down at the cleavage of her dress. “I wouldn’t know. No one has ever used it.”

Her face reflects her shock. “What? Seriously?”

---