Naked Love(15)

Jake drums his fingers on the top of the steering wheel a few times.

“I turned down a scholarship to the University of Illinois.” Drawing in a slow breath, I wait for his response.

No response.

“Did you go to college?”

“Nope.”

“Not even culinary school?”

“Nope.”

“Probably a good thing. Speech is usually a freshman requirement for most degrees, and you clearly would have failed that class.”

He takes the next exit and pulls off on the side of the road by a produce stand. “Let Swarley out, but be back in five or I’m leaving without you.”

I frown.

He winks.

Stupid wink. I hate winkers.

“Jake Matthews!”

Shooing Swarley toward the grass, I roll my eyes at the lady’s enthusiasm to see Mr. Anti-personality.

“Carley, you look younger every time I see you.” He hugs her, lifting her off the ground.

My gaze flits between Swarley and the flex of Jake’s muscles. All muscles. No brains. That’s what I tell myself to tame the itty-bitty part of me that physically reacts to him.

I’m done with men. Period.

“I just turned forty-five, but I feel better than I did at thirty-five. I like this.” Carley ruffles Jake’s thick, blond hair. “I bet all the girls like it.” She winks.

Great. Another winker.

“Whatcha got today?” He follows her to her produce stand.

“All the berries—blue, black, strawberry, and raspberry. I also have asparagus and red leaf lettuce.”

“Sold.” He pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket, shooting me a quick glance, eyes squinted against the sun.

I jerk my attention back to Swarley. “Oh, Swarley. No, no, no.”

He pooped. I suppose it’s better now than passing his lethal gas in the truck. I grab a poop bag from the backseat of the truck.

As Swarley sniffs his way back to me, I cringe. He has a piece of poop hanging from his backside, suspended by a long hair—probably one of mine—that he ate. This dog hates me on every level, conscious and subconscious.

“Hi.” I smile at Carley.

“Hi, darling.” She gives Jake an inflated grin. “Who’s your lady friend?”

Jake keeps his focus on bagging his produce. “Friend might be an overstatement. We just met. Hitchhiker would be more accurate. Carley, Avery. Avery, Carley.”

Carley laughs. “You don’t pick up hitchhikers.” She holds out her hand to me. “So this stunning young lady must be someone really special.”

“No. She’s not,” he deadpans.

I narrow my eyes at him while shaking Carley’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Carley. Jake offered me a ride to L.A. My car died. I can’t fly because I have my sister’s dog with me, and my dad’s heart wouldn’t handle me making the trip alone. And do you by chance have a napkin or paper towel?”

“Oh. I have a rag.” She grabs a cloth towel from a crate beneath her table.

“No. I need something disposable.”

“Time to go, Avery,” Jake says my name with less contempt. Must be the Carley effect.

“I have a tissue in my purse. Will that work?”

I glance back at Swarley and his dangling turd. “Several tissues might work. Thank you.”

Carley digs into her purse and pulls out a wadded-up tissue.

Just one.

One, one-ply tissue.

Possibly already been used.

Biting my lips together, I wrinkle my nose. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I’m afraid so, darling.” She leans closer and whispers, “Did you get your period? I have a sanitary napkin in the glove compartment of my truck.”

I look back at the dangling turd one more time. It’s the size of a large walnut. “Would you mind if I took what’s in your glove compartment?”

“Not at all.” She goes to her truck, and Jake gets in his driver’s seat.

“Avery, let’s go! Get your dog.”

“Just a minute!”

Carley hands me the wadded sanitary napkin. Thankfully, it’s simply old, not used. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. It was nice to meet you. You’ve got yourself quite the guy there.”

I find my fake grin. “He’s something all right. Bye, Carley.” I press the pad together in my good hand like a puppet. It slips out, falling to the ground, so I pick it up and remove the paper strip. The adhesive isn’t the best, but it should keep it from slipping from my hand while I nab the dangling turd.

“Avery? In the truck or you’re getting left behind.”

“I said, just a minute!” I whistle for Swarley. He comes right to me.

A miracle.

“Hold still.” I rest my injured hand on his back to steady him while I move in for the kill. “Hold still!”

He wiggles, arching his body to sniff the pad in my hand.

I chase him in circles. “Swarley! Would you just stop and hold still?”

True to his evil nature, he wiggles more, whipping the turd every which way, making it impossible to nab it.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I glance back at Jake as I continue to chase the turd in a circle. “He has a chunk of poop dangling from his backside. Do you really want him getting in the back of your truck with it?”