Page 17 of Pretty Wild
I nod, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s all.”
“Okay,” I reply, returning my attention to the exit as I push out the screen door.
As I step off the porch, I hear the door creak open behind me. “Thank you for your help. With the window and…the hat.”
I climb onto my four-wheeler and face the beauty in front of me. “You’re welcome.” Before she can reply, I turn the key, firing up the machine, and press on the throttle. Any words she speaks are drowned out. I lift with my foot, engaging first gear, and press the throttle lever with my right hand. I take off, turning the machine around and heading for the path that leads back to my own cabin. Grandpa and I cut the path when I built my own place as a more direct way for us to get back and forth without having to drive the lanes.
Reaching my property once more, I park my four-wheeler in the garage and close the door. It’s a great night for a ride, but I don’t feel like dealing with all the tourists on the trails. Stepping inside my cabin, I find myself walking to the room I use as a home office, my boots echoing through my quiet home. I go to the closet and reach for a box. It’s already open, since I get in it more often than any other box in the closet, and I pull out two different items.
When I replace the box in the closet, I spot another one right beside it. Reaching inside, I grab a fist full of can koozies and the items from the other box, and head for the kitchen. I check the fridge, ready to pull a beer out, but know I probably shouldn’t. You never know when a tow call will come in, and the last thing I need to do is drink alcohol. So I close the door empty-handed and move to the cabinet.
As I fill a glass with tap water, I can’t help but chuckle. I can’t believe she was throwing such a fit about drinking tap water. I’ve been drinking it as long as I’ve lived here, probably longer. We never bought bottled water growing up. It was perfectly acceptable to drink straight from the hose on a hot summer day.
Chugging the contents of my glass, I set it aside and look at the items I grabbed from the closet. I shouldn’t do this, but that doesn’t stop me from picking up the two ball caps and two of the can koozies and making my way back to the door.
Instead of jumping on the four-wheeler, I opt to walk.
Maybe a little air will do me some good.
And keep me from showing back up at my rental cabin.
It takes me a few minutes to reach the clearing where the cabin is positioned. Her SUV is still here, but as I reach the porch, I notice the door is closed. I almost reach for the knob to see if it’s locked but stop myself before I can completely invade her privacy. Instead, I go to the back of the house, where the trees give way to the lake.
She had mentioned something about walking around the lake, except that’s not what I find. Ryan’s standing in the clearing, her blond hair blowing in the gentle breeze as she gazes out at the expansive lake before her. There’s something so…beautiful about her, and it doesn’t exactly have to do with her good looks. She looks peaceful, content, and so right standing on the shore of my lake.
Notmylake, but you know what I’m saying…
I don’t know how long I stand here, watching her as she stares out at the water, but eventually, I realize I need to move. Returning to the front porch, I place the hats and koozies in front of the screen door and take off for the path.
The temperature is cooler under the canopy of the trees, and it’s a welcome reprieve from being close to Ryan in the bedroom. I don’t know why, but standing there, I started to feel a little flush at her nearness, even though she wasn’t even right next to me. I’ve never had a reaction to a woman like that before, felt her proximity and felt overwhelmed with her presence.
When I reach the clearing for my own cabin, I keep walking. I’ve always been outdoorsy, spending as much time in nature as possible. My grandpa was that way, always taking me fishing or camping whenever possible. That’s why I do what I do for a living. Not only is it all I know, but plowing in the cold and towing in any condition doesn’t bother me.
I start walking my property, checking to make sure the signage indicating it’s private is still firmly in place and visible. I’ve got signs at each corner of the property lines, as well as on the trails. It’s not too often someone from the park comes onto my land, but it happens. Most of the people visiting don’t know where the Bluff Preserves National Park ends and private property begins, even though maps are available throughout the park and most everyone has their property marked with signs.
Moving a few downed limbs, I make some piles of brush to pick up later. I keep moving and end up cleaning a big section of land to the east of my cabin, away from the one Ryan is renting.
Just as I start moving another branch, I hear a noise in the distance. It’s the whimper of an animal, which puts me on high alert. Slowly, I creep toward a grouping of young trees with a large stump in the middle, finally spotting what made the sound. There’s a dog, hiding behind the stump. He peeks out, his eyes filled with fear and wonder as he watches me.
“Hey, buddy,” I say softly, hoping not to scare it. Making eye contact, I drop to a knee about ten feet away from where he’s cowering. “Come on out, little fella. I won’t hurt you.”
It takes a solid minute of me talking to him, but slowly, the dog emerges from his hiding spot and carefully makes his way toward me. Lifting my hand to pet him, he shakes and stops moving. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re safe.”
I keep to my knees and hold out a hand, hoping to coax him to me. He isn’t wearing a collar and is on the skinny side. His fur is matted in places and by the frightened look in his eyes, it appears he’s been scared and on the run for a while.
After several minutes, he finally reaches my side. I made a big gesture of keeping my hands visible as I bring them down on his head. He jumps under my touch, but leans into me, grateful and appreciative of the mercy I’m extending.
“Poor guy. How long have you been on your own?” I ask, letting my eyes roam over his body, checking for visible injuries. I don’t see anything except some cockleburs matted in his fur. I’ll try to get those out, but right now, that’s not a huge priority.
“Wanna come up and get something to drink?” I ask, wondering if I should pick him up, so he doesn’t run off. He’s not a terribly big dog, probably about forty pounds. He appears to be a mutt, most likely a mixture of beagle and something else. Lab, maybe? He has long legs and dark hair, but his face looks like that of the smaller breed dog.
When I stand up, he moves back a little, so I place my hands in my pockets. The gesture must comfort him enough that he slowly moves toward me once more. “All right, buddy, we’re gonna go up to the house and see what we’ve got to eat and drink. I don’t have any dog food, but I might have something that’ll work until we can figure out what’s going on, okay?”
He watches me intently, as if understanding what I said and gauging my sincerity. He walks beside me the entire waythrough the timber, occasionally stopping to sniff the ground or a stick before trotting alongside me as we return to my cabin.
I walk onto my porch and open my front door. The dog hesitates, glancing from me to inside the house. After a few seconds, he takes a couple hesitant steps. “Good boy. Let’s get you something to drink.”
