Naked Love(16)

He crosses his arms over his chest, widening his stance. “Hurry up.”

“Hurry up?” I step away from the chase, squaring myself to Mr. Not Helpful.

He grins that perfect surfer grin, with his stupid, perfect hair all perfectly messed up, and that annoying twinkle in his blue eyes.

I hate him.

“Yes. Chop chop, Avery.” He glances down at me with amusement gleaming across his face.

My teeth gnash together. “I have one good hand.” I hold up my left hand and move my puppet pad in his face.

A single eyebrow lifts up his forehead. “Is that a period pad?”

“Hold Swarley.” I shoot him a narrow-eyed challenge.

After a stare-off, I win. Jake brushes past me and hugs Swarley to his body. “You’ve got ten seconds before I leave you behind to work for Carley.”

I lift Swarley’s bobbed tail and grab the hair-bound turd. “Got it.” I stand.

Swarley dashes off to the truck when Jake releases him.

I grin, feeling a mix of disgust at the turd in the folded pad and a twinge of triumph that I got it without getting any poop on my hands.

Plop.

The pad slips out of my hand, landing turd side down on the top of my sandaled foot. “Eww!” I jerk my foot, but the moist turd is stuck and so is the pad. “Eww eww eww … get it off!”

“Clean up and get in the truck.” Jake saunters off, leaving me jumping on one foot while trying to fling off the turd and pad with my other foot.

The growing crowd at Carley’s produce stand watches in amusement. The burn of embarrassment crawls up my neck. I bend down and flick the pad off, leaving a smeared streak of shit on my foot and the toe strap to my sandal—my $300 Italian leather sandals.

I stomp back to the truck with a permanent cringe of disgust affixed to my face. Jake rubs a hand over his mouth. The bastard is laughing at me.

“Don’t speak.” I reach over the seat and grab his water canteen.

“That’s not—”

“Shut it!” I snap, shooting daggers at him with one look.

I unscrew the lid and pour. “Shit!”

Jake clears his throat. “It’s green juice.”

“I see that. Where’s my water?”

“You didn’t bring any.” He pops a blackberry into his mouth.

I hop on one foot, shaking the juice from my dirty foot. “I need water.”

Jake pops another berry.

“Ugh! You are the worst.” I glare at Jake.

Swarley whines.

“Both of you!” I slam the door and hobble to the produce stand. “Carley, do you have some—” My breath catches as I’m swooped up into Jake’s arms.

“You are a pain in the ass, woman,” he mumbles, carrying me to the truck. He opens the back and plops me down on the tailgate.

“I was going to ask Carley for some water.”

Jake opens a plastic tub. “And I’m sure she would give you her drinking water for the day so you can clean your foot because she’s nice like that. But it’s going to be hot, so only an inconsiderate person would accept such an offer.”

“I would not have taken her only water. I just thought …” My jaw drops as he pulls out a gallon jug of water and a roll of paper towels.

“Bastard! You watched me chase a turd with a sanitary napkin. You let me pour juice on my $300 Italian leather sandals while a gallon of water and paper towels were in the back of your truck?”

He unfastens my sandal and washes my foot and sandal without saying another word, without so much as a glance up at me.

“Italian leather doesn’t like water.” I frown at my shoe as he dries my foot and shoves it back into my sandal.

Jake glances up at me with a hard look. “Don’t even get me started on things I don’t like.” With zero effort, he lifts me off the tailgate. “Let’s go.”

*

“Thanks for offering me some berries.” As the skyline of Chicago comes into view, I break the silence again.

Jake turns down the country music. “What?”

“I said, thanks for offering me some berries.” I stare at the four empty pint containers between the seats.

“If you wanted berries, why didn’t you get some?”

“Because I had to deal with Swarley and the poop fiasco.”

“Then why didn’t you ask if you could have some of mine?” He shoots me a wide-eyed look with a tight smile.

“Because that’s not how it works. You don’t ask for something that’s not yours. You wait until someone with manners offers it to you.”

“You were going to ask Carley for her water.”

“Okay, okay … enough about the water. You act like I was going to take food from a starving child.”

“What are you doing?”

“Snapchat.”

“You just took a picture of me?”

“Yup.” I caption the photo of Jake.

“Beware! Satan has good hair, but he’s still a snake.”

“You can’t upload photos of me without a photo release.”

“Well, I did. What are you going to do about it?”

Jake snatches my phone.

“Hey!”

He tucks it under his leg.