Page 59 of Pretty Wild

“Is everything all right?” I ask, crouching down to give Buddy some pets.

“Yep. We’re going for a ride. Get in.”

I stand up and blink. “A ride?”

“Yep,” he says with a crooked grin. “Got a tow call and won’t be done by our eight o’clock appointment, so I figured we could have another adventure.”

“An adventure,” I grumble, taking a step closer to where he stands. “I’m not sure this is the adventure I was looking for.”

He openly smiles now, lines crinkling around the edges of his eyes. “Ever been in a tow truck, Princess?”

“Uh, no, can’t say I have.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat. And if you’re lucky, I’ll let you honk the horn.”

I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Lucky me.”

“Get whatever you need from inside. We gotta go.”

Spinning, I move up the stairs and reach for the door handle.

“Oh, Ryan?”

Before I slip inside the cabin, I look back at Marcus.

“Leave the panties here.”

All I do is smile. Why? Because I’m not wearing any.

When I got home and unloaded my shopping bags, I spent a little time removing tags and checking out my purchases. None of it was items I’d choose—or find, frankly—in any ofthe boutiques I frequented in Los Angeles and Beverly Hills. I purchased bags worth of clothing for the same price as one or two shirts back home. Everything I found would work perfectly for my little vacation here, helping me blend in better than my usual attire.

I flip on the small light above the kitchen sink, so I can see when I get home later, and grab my clutch purse. However, as I walk back to the door, I set the bag down. I shouldn’t need it, right? I don’t need keys to get into the cabin, and if I’m just going on a tow run and then back to Marcus’s place, I shouldn’t need money. I mean, he’s already made it very clear I won’t be paying when he’s around. Not that I wouldn’t—or can’t—considering I’m worth millions, but whatever. It’s not worth the argument.

Except picking a fight with Marcus might be fun.

At least the making up part…

I slip out of the cabin and lock the door. Buddy is right there, spinning circles around my feet.

“Ready?” Marcus asks, his eyes landing between my legs. Even though you can’t see anything through my dress, I can tell he’s trying to figure out if I followed his directions or not.

“Very ready. Let’s go tow a truck,” I say excitedly, stepping down the stairs and making my way to the passenger side of the vehicle.

“Actually, we’re off to tow a van, as well as a car. MVA near the main entrance to the Bluff Preserves National Park. That’s a motor vehicle accident,” he informs me, opening the door for me to climb up. It’s not huge, like a semi, but there’s still a good amount of elevation between the ground and the seat I’m supposed to sit on.

Before I can ask how I’m supposed to get up there, big, warm hands wrap around my waist, and I’m practically hoisted up. A squeak slips from my mouth as I reach out for something to stabilize my weight and movement. Buddy barks, as if findingit humorous I’m being manhandled into a truck, and I suppose, in some weird sexually fueled way, it is. That big dick energy he possesses.

He’s pretty good at manhandling me.

I sit in the seat, glancing around the cab of the truck. It’s dirty, if I’m being honest, but not filthy gross. There’s dust and maybe a bit of dirt on the dash and floorboards, probably because he drives around with the windows open all the time. And let’s be real, it’s not a clean job. Auto mechanics is messy. I’ve seen it on his clothes and under his fingernails.

Back in California, I never would have been caught dead with a man with dirt and grease embedded under his nails, but after spending just a little time with Marcus, it’s not so bad. He’s rugged, manly, blue-collared, as the internet would call him.

And I kind of like it.

Buddy jumps onto the driver’s side floorboard before climbing up onto the seat. “Keep moving, Buddy. You can’t drive.”

The dog looks my way, clearly not impressed he’s being relinquished to the floor for the ride instead of the passenger seat, but this truck doesn’t have a bench. He moves to the floor between the seats, carefully around a bin holding papers and clipboards. He gazes up at me, big puppy dog eyes pleading for me to share.

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